wildbluefaerie's profile

I lay on my back in the cool grass and felt the gentle warmth of the sun on my face. Yet simultaneously, so faint as to be almost imperceptible, I could feel the hard grain of a chair beneath me and the gravel of the road on my bare feet. The dew of the grass was wet against my cheek, but my skin remained dry. It was easy to ignore such distant sensations in the presence of the vividness of my surroundings. Colors were heightened beyond their usual vivacity. They were somehow more full of lif...

Prologue In the days of King Áedán, a legend was born. A legend whose acts of faith and miracles would be carried from generation to generation in tale. In the days when druids ruled and evil magic permeated the land, a figure rose up to fight for what he believed in. But fight with a sword and a shield he did not, instead using the wit of his tongue and the blade of his reason to bring people to the truth. His name was Diarmid. The son of a bishop and the grandson of a priest, ...

Dew clung resolutely to the leaves of the age-old oak, which quivered in the pre-dawn rapture. I stood with my eyes closed and my chin raised and allowed the unearthly strain to wash over me. The notes of the melody poured forth, each one simple and beautiful, and when they came together as one they shimmered in my mind’s eye. I sang from my heart, allowing the melody to lead my voice along unknown paths. A call in the distance cut through my reverie. I stopped singing abruptly, and soon the ...

It was dawn, and life could never be the same. Oh, the trappings of life would go on as ever before – unchanging and unrepentant, day after day, and year after year, hideously enduring until its inevitable end. Yet the one living it was but a shadow of her former self, and could never again occupy her life in such a manner as she had before that fateful, white night. For who could go on after such a dreadful experience? Who could live on – hoping, wishing, pretending that life could be joyful...

Dew clung resolutely to the leaves of the age-old oak, which quivered in the pre-dawn rapture. I stood with my eyes closed and my chin raised and allowed the unearthly strain to wash over me. The notes of the melody poured forth, each one simple and beautiful, and when they came together as one shimmered in my mind’s eye. I sang from my heart, allowing the melody to lead my voice along unknown paths. A call in the distance cut through my reverie; I stopped singing abruptly, and soon the vesti...