When humans first set foot on Khorvaire, they thanked Kol Korran for seeing them safely across the water. King Galifar I believed that it was Dol Arrah who guided him to victory and looked to Aureon to inspire his rule. But the humans didn’t invent the Sovereign Host. Explorers in Xen’drik have uncovered a vast temple dedicated to Ouralon Lawbringer—a clear parallel to the Sovereign of Law and Lore, worshiped by the giants tens of thousands of years before human civilization existed.
For many hundreds of years, the Sovereign Host stood as the bedrock faith of Galifar and the Five Nations. But over centuries, cracks began to form. In Thrane, a young paladin delivered the nation from fiendish domination, crediting her victory to an ancient force of light. The people she saved were quick to embrace the faith of the Silver Flame, and it gradually spread across Galifar. Meanwhile, in the far northeast, a small but devoted following held to the teachings of the Blood of Vol.
Some scholars say that the growing power of industry and arcane science weakened faith. Why should a blacksmith make an offering to Onatar when he could use his copper to take Cannith courses and learn magecraft? Others say that the Last War is to blame. Whatever the cause, there are certainly many in Khorvaire who have no deep devotion to any religion. None would deny that divine power exists, but in a world with sorcerers and dragonmarks, the ability to perform magic is no assurance of the existence of gods. But many faithful see no conflict between the wonders of the modern age and their devotions. Even House Cannith has always claimed to prosper through the blessing of Onatar, and there have always been those within the house who have asked the Traveler for dangerous inspiration. While the Mourning caused some people to question their beliefs, for others, their faith was the source of stability and comfort in a bleak world: Whatever horrors we face, surely there is a reason for our suffering . . . a divine purpose we can’t yet understand.
This chapter examines the role of divine power in daily life and explores the differences between arcane and divine magic. It examines the three major religions of Khorvaire and delves into the occult mysteries of the cults of the Dragon Below. It concludes with revelations about the aasimar and their place in the world of Eberron.
The Role of the Divine
While scholars debate if the Sovereigns truly exist, the presence of divine forces can be felt in everyday life. This is more pronounced in specific places—Thrane, Aerenal, a Seeker community in Karrnath—but even on the cynical streets of Breland, you can consult an oracle of Aureon or get help from an exorcist of the Silver Flame. Similarly, people may criticize the actions of the Church of the Silver Flame, but no one doubts that the Flame itself exists, and everyone knows that its champions wield mystic power. Player characters are remarkable, and paladins are rare, but it’s common knowledge that paladins exist. When a paladin heals a wounded soldier by laying on hands, it’s impressive, but not unprecedented. How is divine power encountered in the world, and how does it differ from the magic of wizards and artificers?
What is Divine Magic?
A cleric, a bard, and an artificer can all cast cure wounds. Working strictly by the rules, the only difference between the three characters is the spellcasting ability associated with each, so arcane and divine magic aren’t concrete mechanical concepts. Rather, it is part of the story itself, with the artificer and cleric each doing something fundamentally different; the artificer creates a quick healing salve, while the cleric lays their hands on the victim and calls for a miracle. This section explores the difference between arcane and divine magic, suggesting flavor that you can employ in describing the actions of spellcasters.
Arcane Magic
Arcane magic is a form of science. There are predictable rules that shape reality, and with proper study and force of will, anyone could potentially perform arcane magic. This is what makes arcane magic the foundation of civilization in the Five Nations: it can be taught, and once learned, it is entirely reliable. Arcane magic involves channeling ambient magical energy—the powers of the planes, the emanations of the Ring of Siberys—and focusing it to alter reality. The components of a spell—like verbal incantations, somatic gestures, and focus items—help this process, but the most important element of spellcasting is mental focus. Though a fighter could perfectly duplicate the words and gestures of a wizard, nothing would happen. You must cast the spell in your mind, harnessing and shaping mystical energy, and this is dangerous and exhausting; this is why most spellcasters are limited in how many spells they can cast each day.
All arcane magic consists of reliable skills you can master, but there are different forms of arcane magic. While a wizard and sorcerer can both cast fireball, there’s a difference, tied to the ability associated with spellcasting.
Intelligence. Spellcasting using Intelligence is grounded in knowledge and logic. For these characters, casting a spell is like solving an equation—harnessing and carefully channeling the precise quantity of mystical energy required to produce the effect you’re looking for. A wizard may use words of power and mystic gestures to generate power, while an artificer instead relies on tools. But either way, you fundamentally know what you’re doing, which is why both artificers and wizards can prepare new spells each day. Arcane magic is a science, and you’re a scientist.
Charisma. Spellcasting using Charisma is tied to instinct and force of personality. For these characters, casting a spell is like knowing a few amazing family recipes even though you have no concept of the fundamental principles of baking. Your spellcasting talents may come from an arcane bloodline, a mystic patron, or a magical song. Regardless, you still have to perform similar actions to a wizard; to cast a fireball, you still need somatic gestures and verbal incantations along with a ball of guano or an arcane focus. But you don’t have to understand what you’re doing the way a wizard does; you just know that if you follow the recipe, you’ll get a perfect result.
In general, wizards, sorcerers, warlocks, artificers, bards, wandslingers, and magewrights use arcane magic. This still leaves room for individual flavor, and the techniques of an Aereni wizard may look quite different from those of an Aundairian wandslinger. But the same basic science underlies them both, and the principles of verbal and somatic components are familiar, even if the precise gestures or words are different. You can decide your character breaks this tradition, but this doesn’t change any mechanical rules. You might say that your bard uses divine magic to cast spells— singing prayers to the Sovereigns, for example. However, this won’t change your spellcasting ability or allow you to use a holy symbol as a spellcasting focus, unless you make arrangements with your DM.
Divine Magic
There’s no logic to divine magic, no pure science that can explain exactly how it works. An acolyte might spend years meditating and praying, performing virtuous deeds, and tending their flock, and still never gain the power to cast a spell; meanwhile, a smith who can’t even read might feel Onatar’s guiding hands and cast magecraft. Divine magic requires two things: absolute faith and a connection to a divine power source.
Faith is about conviction. It can’t be something you approach rationally. You need to know in your heart that the magical effect you seek to produce with your spell should and will happen. Whether you’re smiting an enemy or healing an ally, you know that the enemy will fall and that you will save your friend. This doesn’t mean that you have to be a zealot with no doubts whatsoever; you can question your overall course of action. But you can’t think about your doubts in the moment of casting the spell; in that instant, you must have pure and absolute certainty that the spell will come to pass.
But faith alone isn’t enough; you also need a connection to a source of divine power. In Eberron, no one can prove whether the Sovereigns or other deities exist—if Onatar actually guides all artisans or if Dol Dorn and Dol Arrah truly watch over every battlefield. But whether or not Dol Arrah exists, when her paladin smites a foe, they draw that power from something. The paladin believes it to be Dol Arrah granting her favor, and maybe it is. Or maybe the shared faith of the tens of thousands of people who believe in the Sovereigns has created wells of power in the collective unconscious, and the paladin draws on this powerful force instead. In a practical sense, the truth is irrelevant; regardless of its nature and source, the power exists. And this is where science fails. The Silver Flame is a source of divine power, a force that has held demons at bay for millennia. Those who seek to defend the innocent and fight supernatural evil can draw on its power. But why does one templar become a paladin over another of equal faith? Why does an illiterate farmer gain the gift of divine magic when a religious scholar who’s spent decades studying texts doesn’t? People of faith usually respond that it’s because the farmer was chosen by Arawai, or because one templar was more open than the other to the Voice of the Flame. Maybe that’s true, or maybe it’s all just luck.
As a paladin or cleric, you are tied to a source of divine power. Have you been chosen for a grand purpose? Did you earn this gift through piety or virtue? No one can prove the answer one way or the other. All that matters is that you have your faith, and that when you call for divine power, something answers.
Manifestations of Divine Magic. To the outside observer, divine magic is very different in flavor from arcane magic. A wizard traces glowing sigils and speaks words in a language older than humanity; a priest simply points dramatically at their enemy and calls on the Silver Flame to strike them down. Whether a spell is fueled by arcane or divine power, however, it still requires verbal and somatic components. Practically speaking, this means the spellcaster has to be able to speak and use their hands, and that these are somehow tied to casting a spell. But where a wizard may recite a complex incantation, the verbal component of divine magic could be the simplest of prayers: “Dol Arrah smite my foe!” or “Stand revealed in the light of the Flame!” Or it might be more complex, perhaps singing a hymn or reciting a passage from an ancient text. In both cases, the verbal components are statements of conviction and intent. Just as arcane magic is more than words and gestures, divine magic likewise has a mental component. The caster doesn’t just ask for something; they reach out and take the power from the divine source, and if they draw too heavily on this connection, it’ll be exhausted until they can rest.
The Value of Uncertainty. Mechanically, there’s no difference between arcane magic and divine magic. But Eberron’s divine magic is inherently more mysterious—it’s not a science and shouldn’t be entirely consistent or reliable. If you and your DM both agree to it, the DM could add some uncertainty to your divine magic. Consider a few ways this could manifest:
- A spell could have a more powerful effect than you expected, as if cast with a spell slot of a higher level.
- The target of a spell could gain advantage or disadvantage on a saving throw against it.
- A target could be unexpectedly included or excluded from a spell effect.
This uncertainty should never become commonplace. It’s the sort of thing that might happen once or twice during an adventure, if at all, and it should never be something you demand. It’s a way to add that sense that divine magic isn’t logical—not to create a concrete advantage or disadvantage for divine casters.
You should generally have a sense of why the uncertainty is happening. If you doubt the righteousness of your cause, it would make sense for you to have disadvantage on your attack roll; conversely, if you’re a Silver Flame priest facing one of the Lords of Dust and you’ve just made an impassioned speech condemning them in the name of the Flame, you might expect a surge in power. But divine magic should never be entirely logical. If you cast flame strike and one of the targets is entirely untouched, is it because your faith faltered, or could it be a sign that you are supposed to spare this person’s life?
Visions and Portents. As a divine caster, you are in touch with a divine power source. DMs can add a sense of mystery to divine magic by granting you divine visions. This might be clear and direct: during a long rest, you have a vision of a dark cloud over a nearby town. You know that evil forces are gathering there and that you have been charged to defend the townsfolk. This can be an easy way to set an adventure in motion. But it can also be more cryptic and intriguing: as your paladin enters the village, you see a burning crown floating above the head of a crippled beggar. The vision lasts an instant and is gone, with no further guidance. Is it a sign that the beggar is the rightful ruler and you should restore him to power? Is it a warning that he’s an agent of Rak Tulkhesh? There is no clear answer; it’s up to you to interpret it. The divine power is telling you something, but can your mortal mind make sense of it? As with unreliable magic, visions should be rare and remarkable. Such a vision is a reminder that you are in touch with a higher power, but you should never take this gift for granted or come to expect it.
Divine magic and arcane magic are the two most common forms of spellcasting, but they’re far from the only paths. Primal magic draws on the ambient power of the natural world, and is commonly used by druids and rangers. The verbal components of a primal spell might include a bird call or invocation of an animal spirit; somatic components might mimic the motion of a beast or spreading roots. Psionic magic uses the focused power of the mind, and chapter 2 includes suggestions for adding psionic flavor to kalashtar characters. A warlock might say that they are directly channeling their patron, acting simply as a vessel for that power.
Divine Magic in Everyday Life
Faith is a part of everyday life in the Five Nations. The people of Galifar were devoted to the Sovereign Host, and this echoes through its institutions—marriages are sanctified by Boldrei and judges swear oaths to Aureon. The Sovereign Aureon is the patron of wizards and magewrights, and Cannith artificers look to Onatar and the Traveler for inspiration. Many dragonmarked heirs assert that their marks are divine gifts.
So faith remains widespread, and there is no inherent clash between arcane and divine magic, but most commercial magical services are provided by arcane magewrights, not divine adepts. Priests can often cast thaumaturgy or ceremony, but rarely wield other forms of magic. The job of the priest is to provide spiritual guidance to their community; if you’re looking to fix your injured leg, you go to a Jorasco healing house, not to a temple.
As a result, people are well aware of divine magic, but it’s not taken for granted in the same way arcane magic is. The people of Eberron understand that divine magic isn’t necessarily reliable, as discussed in the “Gifts in Time of Need” sidebar. A paladin player character will never lose their class abilities, but an NPC templar might gain divine power only when fighting supernatural evil and be unable to produce those effects at other times.
People with the abilities of clerics and paladins are usually found serving as champions of their faiths. They are exorcists, templar commanders, inquisitors, and missionaries venturing into dangerous lands. You wouldn’t just go into a temple of Boldrei and demand to be healed. Clerics and paladins are remarkable, and people will assume that you were given your powers for a special purpose. NPC clerics of Boldrei might be found operating charitable clinics or fighting outbreaks of plague.
While it’s rare to find people selling divine magic as a service, it’s not unheard of. Breland is infamous for corruption, and an NPC cleric could demand gold for mystical assistance. Oracles of Aureon typically demand “donations” for their insights. And in places where faith is especially strong or widespread, adepts can be found providing services commonly performed by magewrights. In a Seeker community in Karrnath, you may find skeletons animated by the local priest tilling a field. A devout blacksmith might cast magecraft by calling on Onatar instead of learning it from Cannith—but unlike with arcane magic, this devout blacksmith can’t teach the spell to an apprentice. Divine spellcasting is a gift, not a job; an apprentice might earn that gift with their own devotion, but it’s never a sure thing.
Within the Five Nations, Thrane is the greatest example of divine magic being worked into everyday life. Even there, Jorasco still provides healing and people rely on Sivis speaking stones to communicate. But in Flamekeep the streets are lit with silvery everbright lanterns created by adepts instead of artificers, and many other common services are provided by divine faith instead of arcane science. Beyond the Five Nations, the cultures of Aerenal and the Ghaash’kala orcs of the Demon Wastes use divine magic nearly as commonly as arcane services.
Questioning Faith
Divine magic is real. For a player character, it’s reliable, and under fifth edition rules, clerics and paladins don’t risk losing their powers if their actions aren’t perfectly aligned with their faith. As discussed in the “What is Divine Magic” section above, there are many ways to reflect the importance of faith and what makes playing a divine spellcaster feel distinctly different than playing a wizard.
But what happens when that faith falters? A DM and player could work together to reflect the evolution or even loss of faith by an equally dramatic mechanical change to a character. Consider a paladin who discovers or does something that deeply undermines their faith. If the character simply loses their class features, no one will have fun. But you could redesign the character as a fighter of the same level, reflecting the idea that their divine abilities are gone, but they’re still a tough, hardbitten warrior. Or in reverse, you could start a campaign playing a fighter as a former paladin who lost your way; if you find redemption or new faith over the course of the campaign, you could eventually redesign the character to be a full paladin.
Similarly, a character’s beliefs might evolve rather than be lost entirely. Tira Miron began as a paladin of Dol Arrah but later embraced the Silver Flame. It’s equally possible for a cleric of the Sovereign Host to have a journey that leads them to embrace the Blood of Vol; this sort of character evolution can be a remarkable story, and be reflected mechanically by the DM and player working together to swap their class archetype.
These mechanical changes might require some suspension of disbelief, as the paladin who becomes a fighter might suddenly be a significantly better fighter, and the cleric who swaps domains might lose proficiencies and have to throw away their armor. This is an imperfect process, and it’s up to both player and DM to find ways to push past this and explain them within the story: “My armor was a prison. Now that I’ve embraced the light, I can’t bear to carry the weight of war on my shoulders.” It’s important to maintain game balance, even if it means overlooking a few blips in the story. But changing beliefs can be a good reason for a dramatic mechanical shift within a character.
Ultimately, your beliefs—or lack thereof—don’t have to be limited by a class choice you made at 1st level. Whether it’s ultimately strengthened or abandoned, questioning and exploring faith can be an interesting path for any character.