Sgrios Mass: The Weight of Endings

 A Reflection by Priest Heva of Sgrios

((Much more was added as improv such as emotes, roleplay flavor, interaction with attendees, etc - this is the abridged note version))

My brothers and sisters who gather for this sacred Mass, I speak to you as one who has walked many paths in service to our Lord Sgrios. When I first took the cloth in Deoch 28, I believed that prayer and ritual alone would bring me closer to His crimson embrace. How naive I was then.

It was through the discipline of the monk that I first began to understand. Hours spent in meditation, feeling my own flesh grow heavy with mortality, taught me that our bodies themselves are vessels heading toward one destination. Every breath we draw brings us closer to that final exhale. In those quiet moments, I felt His presence not as some distant deity, but as the inevitable force working within my very bones.

When I embraced the ways of the druid, true revelation came. In the deep forests, I discovered what our Lord had been trying to teach me. There, among the rotting logs, I witnessed His most honest sermons. The fungi that consume fallen trees do not create new life from death. They simply finish what time began. They are His agents, breaking down what once was into dust and memory.

The spores became my teachers. These tiny messengers of ending drift on every breeze, settling into anything that lives, beginning their patient work of dissolution. They ask for no grand temples. They simply exist, doing His work in silence, preparing all things for their final rest.

The texts speak truly through Tenes and Dubhreal. We serve the God who offers no false promises, no hope of renewal. While others chase illusions of permanence, we who follow Sgrios have embraced the hardest truth of all: everything ends. Everything becomes dust. Everything feeds His endless hunger for finality.

Now when I stand before you during our sacred Mass, offering the traditional prayers, I do so with understanding learned from watching autumn leaves surrender not to spring's return, but to winter's final claim. Each word of supplication carries the weight of accepting what others fear to acknowledge.

When we leave this Mass today, remember that every spore drifting past whispers the same message: all things must end. We are not witnesses to renewal; but to the beautiful, terrible truth that nothing lasts forever. In this acceptance, we find our devotion.

Priest Heva

Servant of Endings, Student of Dust