You already know what you want. This is the moment that's been missing: your wish, in your own handwriting, in real gold, given an ending worthy of it. Fire. Water. Earth. Breath. A torn half. A sealed year.
Twenty minutes. Arrives flat in a sealed envelope. From $34, shipping included.
This is what your handwriting will look like, in gold, on the card.
Six rites · six kinds of wish
Every rite begins the same way: your wish, in gold. What changes is what you want from life — and how the ceremony ends.
Pick the line that sounds most like you. We'll point you to the rite.
The year that changes everything. A goal big enough to need twelve months.
Gild it, fold it, seal it, and write a date one year from today on the face. Don't open it until then. You'll meet the person who wrote it.
A letter to who you'll be.
A relationship you want to deepen, repair, or begin. A promise between two people.
Tear the gilded card along its rough edge. Keep one half. Give the other to exactly one person. The halves fit each other and nothing else on earth.
Two halves. One wish.
Money. A home. A family. A body of work. Anything that takes a season to arrive.
Fold the gilded card small and put it in the ground — a garden or a pot on the windowsill. The paper feeds the soil. The gold waits there for years.
Buried, not gone.
A worry. A habit. An illness. A person who still takes up room.
Lower the gilded card into a glass of water. It comes apart and vanishes in seconds, gold and all, leaving the glass clear.
Let it leave you.
Grief. A goodbye you never got to say. The words you'd give them if you could.
Your words stay gold on the card. Everything that didn't become the words — the loose leaf around them — you brush into your open palm, say what you have to say, and breathe out. Gold leaf weighs almost nothing. It goes.
What you said stays. The rest goes.
A promotion. The business. The move. The thing you'd do if you weren't scared.
Write it, gild it, and give the card to a flame. The paper burns to ash. Your words, now gold, come out of the fire intact.
The paper burns. The wish doesn't.
How it works
Everything you need is in the envelope. You need a quiet room. Everything else is in the envelope.
Unscrew the little gold-capped vial of mordant — an old gilder's word for the clear ink that makes gold stick — and write your wish with its applicator. A few words. Your own hand. It goes on almost invisible.
While the ink turns tacky, turn the card over. Four short prompts walk you through it: the wish, the day it comes true, the moment you know, and the first step you'll take tomorrow — eyes closed. This is the part that changes something in you.
Lay the leaf over the card, smooth it with the edge of your palm, and lift the backing away. Your handwriting is suddenly gold. Then give it the ending you chose — flame, water, earth, breath, a torn half, or a sealed year.
No experience needed. Most people get it right the first time.Ruin it? We send another card and gold, once, free.No open flame required — four of the six rites use none.
Why it works
Humans have sealed their wants in ceremony for five thousand years — candles, coins, letters to the fire. It turns out we were right. Here is what the research measured.
Egyptian wish-letters to the dead. Roman coins in springs. Japanese ema plaques. Chinese sky lanterns. Birthday candles. The urge to make a wish physical is universal — because it works on us.
In controlled trials, people who performed a short ritual before a high-stakes task felt less anxious and performed measurably better — even when told exactly why they were doing it. The ceremony doesn't need your belief. It needs your hands.
Anyone can say a wish. The vigil makes you sit inside it — the day it comes true, the room, the faces, the exact words — and then ends with one plain question: what will you do tomorrow? A wish you have rehearsed in detail and attached to a first step is a different thing from a wish you have only said.
Will your wish come true? Nobody honest can promise you that, and we won't. Here is what we can promise: by the end of twenty minutes you will have said the thing out loud, written it in your own hand, watched it turn to gold, and decided what you'll do about it. Almost nobody has ever done that for the thing they want most. You will have.
The moment
A few words say more than a paragraph. These are the kinds of wishes people write.
Studio photography of the ceremony in production
Begin
Every kit includes a wish card and a sheet of real gold leaf for each rite, the mordant in its own applicator vial, and the folded rite card that guides you through it. Shipping is free.
The Burn · The Split · The Sowing · The Dissolve · The Breath · The Sealed Year
Checkout opens shortly — the store is being connected. Write to hello@cermoni.co and we'll take your order by hand.
Free shipping30-day returns, unopenedOne free replacement if a rite goes wrongShips in 2 business days
Heavy cotton stock, 4 × 6 in, with a torn deckle edge. No two alike. The Dissolve comes on water-soluble stock.
Genuine gold leaf, transfer-mounted on its own backing sheet so it lays in one press. Real gold doesn't tarnish and doesn't burn — it's what the fire refuses.
Clear gilding ink in a small gold-capped vial with its own applicator — no brush to buy or clean. Tacky in ten minutes, workable for hours.
A folded card: the six steps inside, the ten-minute vigil beside them, help on the back. The vial rides in its fold. One for each rite you choose.
Questions
Start with what you want, not which looks best. Afraid to want it? The Burn. About someone you love? The Split. Something you want to grow? The Sowing. Something to let go of? The Dissolve. Someone you've lost? The Breath. The year ahead? The Sealed Year. Can't choose — that's what Three Rites is for.
Yes. Every kit ships with genuine gold leaf — the same leaf gilders lay on frames, domes and manuscripts. It doesn't tarnish, it doesn't burn, and it weighs almost nothing, which is why The Breath works and why what comes out of the fire in The Burn is still gold.
We can't promise that and we won't pretend to. What we can promise is the ceremony: twenty minutes of undivided attention on the one thing you want most, said out loud, written in your own hand, turned to gold, and decided upon. Research says that changes how you act next. The rest is yours.
About twenty minutes. Two to write, ten with your eyes closed while the ink turns tacky, a few to lay the gold, and however long the ending deserves.
Better. Gilding ink doesn't make neat handwriting — it makes yours. Keep it to a few words and let the letters be uneven. Uneven is what looks like a person.
Write to us and we'll send another card and sheet of gold, once, free. No receipt, no questions.
It was built to be given. Tell us at checkout and we'll leave the invoice out. The Three Rites set is the most common gift — one for you, two for people you love.
No. The rites borrow their shape from things people have done for thousands of years — writing something down, burning it, burying it, giving half away — but they belong to no tradition and ask you to believe nothing.
The card is small and burns for a few seconds. Use a fireproof dish, over a sink or outdoors. Four of the six rites use no flame at all.
Thank you
Your kit ships within two business days, flat, in a sealed envelope — it fits through a letterbox, so nobody needs to be home. Stripe has emailed your receipt.
Between now and then, one small ask: settle on the words. A few, not a paragraph. The kind of thing you'd only say once.
Anything wrong, at any point — reply to the receipt or write to hello@cermoni.co. A person reads it.