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Her voice grows quieter, as though the very air might betray her words. “For centuries, the Fomorians have sown chaos across the Celtic regions. Their presence isn’t random—it’s deliberate. The havoc they wreak fuels a poison, an insidious corruption that seeps into the land itself. This poison feeds them, strengthening them while the land grows weaker.”
“Our once-mighty Tuatha held them at bay, their light and power countered the darkness of the Fomorians, maintaining a fragile balance. But when the Tuatha retreated into the fairy mounds, the chaos of the Fomorians grew unchecked, their poison spreading through the veins of the earth, choking the life from Ériu and her people.”
“They are not mere myths, Triona,” she states, her voice firm now. “The Fomorians are still here, lurking in the shadows of this world, feeding on the discord and suffering that plagues the land. Manipulating events to weaken the land further. Every war, every famine, every moment of despair—they thrive on it. And the longer they endure, the closer we come to losing our connection to the land entirely.”
“The time is coming when their poison will threaten more than just the land. It will threaten everything, and it’s more urgent than you know,” Amelia cautions, her expression darkening further. “They’re setting the stage for something catastrophic. If we do nothing, in twenty years’ time, the land will wither beyond recovery. Crops will fail. The rivers will run dry. And famine… what we’ll call ‘The Great Famine’ will sweep through Ireland like fire through dry brush. More than half of the country’s population will starve or be forced out.”
My dreams of the poisoned glen resurface in vivid detail—the disease creeping through the land, unstoppable. The kind of devastation that leaves scars not just on a person but on the soul of a place.
My stomach churns as the enormity of her words sinks in. “I’ve dreamt of this…” I reveal, my voice barely above a whisper.
Amelia leans closer, her gaze piercing. “I had wondered when you might share that bit of information.”
Casey titters from behind me. “All this time, all those dreams ye’ve talked to me about. They’ve had true meanin’,” he states.
Amelia nods her agreement. “See… you have a purpose in this. You can stop it. That is why you must be prepared. Why you must understand what is at stake.”
“Where would I even start?”
Amelia’s hands grip mine tighter. “You start right now by believing. Believing in yourself, in the connection that still lingers, faint though it may be. By remembering who we are. By rekindling the bond with Ériu herself. The land has not forgotten, Triona. And neither must you.”
“Why me?” The words tumble out before I can stop them, laden with fear and doubt. “Why am I the one tasked with this? I’m just… me. I don’t have the strength of the Tuatha or the wisdom of someone such as you. How can I possibly do this?”
Her face softens, a flicker of understanding breaking through the sombre lines of her expression. She leans closer, her voice low but firm. “Do you think the events leading up to this very moment were happenstance? You, Triona, were born with a connection to Ériu. Your existence is no accident. The blood of kings and guardians flows in your veins; it’s what makes you different—what makes you capable.”
“You were right to believe I would doubt your words,” I whisper, the weight of her expectations pressing heavily on my chest. “It sounds unreal.”
“Let me do my best to convince you,” she says, her grip on my hand grounding me. “You carry a legacy older than you can imagine. You were chosen, not because you are perfect, but because you will fight for it. Despite all hurdles, all pain, you care.”
The fire pops, startling me into the quiet room. How can I believe this? It feels as if I’m going mad. I should have long since stopped questioning the impossible. I’ve seen the impossible, and somewhere deep inside, I can feel what she’s talking about. The stirrings inside me.
The faintest ember of resolve stirs within me.
“It’s not just you who has been tasked with this,” Amelia says, pulling me from my thoughts. “There are others… others who carry their own pieces of this fight. Together, you are meant to stand against what is coming.”
I furrow my brow, the words barely sinking in before she continues. Her voice drops, becoming almost melodic, her eyes distant as if she is recalling something from deep within her memory.
“You journey now with sun-born kin,
To find the spear, the battle’s twin.
The warrior bold from Gorias’ might,
Seeks the blade of eternal light.
Two hearts entwined, a cauldron they crave,
A vessel of plenty their fate will pave…”
As the words linger in the air, the door creaks open, and Mannie walks in, his voice carrying the last line as if summoned by fate.
“And you, my child, seek what’s been torn—
The shard of your soul, to be reborn.”
His tone is grave, and Amelia’s eyes cut to him as mine widen in recognition. “That…” I stammer, feeling as though the floor just dropped from beneath me. “That’s what the maiden in the tavern recited to me. Weeks ago. Word for word.”
Finn stands straight, looking me in the eye. “Triona, why are we just hearin’ about this?” His voice is low, raw, but not angry. “When I asked, you said she’d approached askin’ for coin.”
