Page 4
In the breath that followed, none dared stir, and silence seemed to blanket them. Ériu laid herself in eternal slumber atop the high ground of Uisneach. She became one with the land, ensuring her essence would endure as a protector of Ireland for all time. The hill became a place of reverence, where violets bloomed year-round as a reminder of her sacrifice and enduring protection.
Amergin sat upon that hill in silence. Alone. The weight of Ériu’s departure settled heavily in his chest. With Éber Donn out of the way, he was named Chief Ollam of Ériu.
He split the land in two, granting his brothers rule over their halves, while dedicating himself to documenting Ireland’s wonders so that Ériu’s legacy would endure for all time. But Amergin knew that words alone were not enough. In his heart, he understood that the land would not always be left in peace, and so he made another vow—one spoken only to the winds and hills that had once carried Ériu’s voice.
Should Ériu’s lands ever need defending, his bloodline would rise—bound by honour, waiting for the call.
Ériu’s solemn rest could be felt across the land, sending silent warnings that the Age of the Gods was over. The hour to seek refuge had dawned on them.
As the world above changed, the Tuatha Dé Danann did not vanish, nor did they fade from existence. Instead, they dwell in the radiance of their undying essence—
In the Otherworld."
Triona’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why are there still bad folk? Where is her magic?”
James placed a steadying hand on Ellen’s shoulder, ready to take the lead. Crouching down to meet Triona’s gaze, he said, “Ériu’s magic still lingers, but it cannae always shield against human choice. It’s woven into the land and lives in the hearts o’ good folk, but even the strongest magic can fade if mankind allows hatred to take root.”
Triona’s posture shifted, almost in defeat. James took her small hand in his. “But there are far more good folk than bad, and as long as they’re here, evil won’t prevail. It’s hope that fuels them, keeps ‘em fightin’—for themselves and for those they’d sacrifice everything for. Hope gives ‘em the strength to believe that a lass as fierce as mine might save ‘em all. Ériu’s magic still breathes in them, waitin’ to prove themselves worthy of her return.”
“How? You said she died.” Triona questioned, her eyes wide with innocence.
“Not died—” James considered his words carefully, “just slumberin’, in a sense.” Despite Triona’s puzzled expression, James pressed on.
“Do ye wanna ken what Ériu means now?” She nodded enthusiastically.
“It means Éireann.” James paused for a moment to give Triona a moment to ponder the importance of what he was saying. Though her middle name was not a typical one, Ellen and James loved it.
He continued. “Ériu’s spirit still lingers, not just in the land, but in those who refuse to let darkness take hold. Folk like ye, my fierce one, is why the world hasnae fallen to ruin. Ye’re filled with the love of others, ye’re bountiful, and life in ye is abundant and everlastin’.”
She smiled at him. “Casey said it was a daft name.” He chortled and looked up at Ellen.
“Remind me to have words with that boy come mornin’.”
Beneath the warm glow of the flickering fire, the room brimmed with a tenderness that wrapped around them like a soft, encompassing embrace. Ellen, her heart brimming with love, brushed a tender hand over Triona’s cheek and spoke softly.
“It isnae a silly name, my bonnie lass. Yer cheeky brother’s just fond o’ teasin’. The name ye bear is a promise of grand adventures yet to come—jus like the one ye got it from.”
With a mother’s grace, Ellen cradled Triona’s cheek lightly, as if to leave a whisper of her affection. Ellen’s eyes were deep pools of emotion, and danced with the light of a thousand memories, glistening with the sheen of tears unshed.
“Yer father speaks true. Ye carry more than jus a name, my love. Ye carry a spark of something greater—something the world cannae afford to lose. The fire in yer heart’s set to turn the world on its heid. The name ye bear is the breath of Ireland herself. It’s a strong name, like the emerald lands of old.” Triona stared into Ellen’s eyes, and frowned, noticing the silver glisten there.
“Mama, why’re cryin’?” Ellen let out the faintest chuckle, and blinked forcibly, containing what was sure to be an onslaught of tears.
“Oh, I am jus so proud to be yer mother. Da and I-” Ellen paused, unsure how to even explain such emotions to a child. She continued, “We’re so grateful the heavens saw fit to give us an angel on earth.”
That single statement was as close to the truth as Ellen would ever willingly get.
With eyes wide and full of youthful curiosity, seeming to mull over some statement Ellen had made, Triona turned to James.
“Will I be stronger than ye, Da?” James let out a full belly laugh.
“Oh, my sweet girl, ye’re gonna be strong enough to defeat many a foe. The strength ye wield will rival the legends! Grown men, in their pride and glory, will quiver at the mere mention of yer name!” James spoke with melodramatic flourish, making hand gestures as if he were a stage actor. The sight of it had Triona and Ellen rolling with laughter.
“I have no powers, I’m just a wee lass!”
James impulsively reached out and teasingly pinched the tip of Triona’s nose. Like that of a little lion cub, she burst from Ellen’s lap to unleash her playful wrath, pinning James beneath her. The surprise of the attack knocked the wind out of him, causing Ellen and Triona to laugh harder at his expense.
“Seems ye’re already well equipped with that strength.” With a resonant laughter that echoed through the hearth-warmed room, James stood, pulling her close as he twirled her in his arms. Holding her tight, he pressed a kiss to her temple, a seal of eternal fatherly love.
