I squared my shoulders and closed my eyes, breathing in deeply before stepping over the discarded gown into the spring. Cool water closed around my ankles as my feet sank in the sandy bottom. I moved forward until the water rose to the juncture of my thighs.

The singing continued, but it seemed as though it came from a distance. I cupped the water in my hands then lifted it skyward.

“Mother Anu, we stand under your moon, on your ground, in your sacred water.” Water streamed through my fingers, down my arms, over my breasts and down to my stomach and thighs. “We, your children, sing your praise. Queen of Life, and Beauty, and Fertility. You give life to all things. You are all things.”

While I spoke aloud, the words sounded distant, like an echo in my mind.

“Bless us with abundance. Oh, loving Mother, we invoke your life essence into our bodies.”

My vision wavered. The sky bent in a wide arc of streaming stars. The moon hovered above me, so close I could reach out and touch it. “Spread your abundant gifts over the land, and we shall honor you for all of our days, as we honor you now.”

The sky moved in a slow circle, light and dark going faster and faster. My knees buckled. Time slowed as I sank into the water and into darkness.

My hair floated around me. It waved in the gentle motion of the water, brushing against my skin like seaweed. The temple bed chamber flashed before my eyes. Balen and I, naked. Mating. Sweating. My heart beat quickened.

Life, Deira, a wise female voice whispered in my mind, and I saw water and felt peace. Life and Light are one.

Another flash. Balen and I moving together, my legs wrapped high around his back, pushing him, urging him.

Worlds die and new ones are built upon the remains. Life, death, rebirth. It is the cycle of everything. No one can stop it; though they might stay the inevitable for a time... If you fight it, it will destroy you.

Darkness. Looking up at gray, storm-filled skies. Rain streamed down, and with it the raven, its caw echoing like a terrible omen in my mind as it fell from the sky.

A sorrow so great gripped my heart. I curled into a ball.

The gift of life is yours. Blessings upon the land and children of Éire.

My lungs strained. Sharp pains shot through my chest. I twisted in the water, fighting. Panic. Fear. The water was too heavy to swim through. I flailed, getting nowhere, struggling.

Arms pulled me up. Air hit my face, and I gulped it in, gasping breath after precious breath and coughing in between them, so hard it burned my throat and chest.

Deirdre helped me to shore and knelt, pushing the wet strands of hair from my face. All around me were the bare feet of the priestesses. I raised my head. “The goddess has given her blessings.”

She’d also given me a powerful omen, but that had been for me and me alone.

A cheer went up, and beyond the woods on the hill of Tlachtga another cheer carried on the wind. Over the tree tops, sparks shot into the night sky.

The fires had been lit.

Deirdre helped me stand as the priestesses waded into the sacred spring to leave offerings of flowers, food, and tokens by the altar.

“Here, this will warm you,” she said, drawing a thick fur blanket around my shoulders.

She didn’t speak as we made the long trek back to the temple. Instead, she held me tight, her arm around my waist as we walked. I leaned into her, seeking comfort and warmth, welcoming the silence of the forest.

By the time we emerged from the black forest, the tremors had increased, my teeth clattering together. Everywhere, I saw villagers in their finest clothing. Flowers adorned the long, free flowing hair of all women of child bearing age. Men wore their finest. Most of the hearth fires in the village and temple had already been extinguished, and they’d be lit anew from the sacred fire atop the hill. The goats, cattle, and sheep had been brought in from the fields. Tonight they’d be driven between the fires to be blessed for another fruitful year.

Musician played drums, lutes, and harps, the lively melody mingling with talk and mirth. A great feast had been prepared, and my stomach grumbled at the aroma. A hot meal might ease my shivering. So would Balen sharing his warmth…

Children weaved their way through our procession, making me laugh at their antics and sweet, carefree laughter. Soon, they’d go to bed and leave the night to us.

“This way.” Deirdre entered the main temple then led me back to the inner chambers where thankfully a fire still burned hot in the hearth.

Shaking, I stopped on the rug as she removed the fur, walked me closer to the fire, and the bathed the mud from my body with a soft towel and fresh water that had been waiting when we arrived.

“Is it like that for you as well?” I finally asked her when my teeth stopped clattering together.

“Sometimes.” She placed each of my hands into a smaller basin and washed them. “I’ve never been pulled under,” she said quietly, her hair shielding her face from view.

“Perhaps you’re stronger than I and can stand on your own two feet when the goddess speaks.”

She tilted her head to smile at me. “Perhaps. Or your vision was so strong it stole your strength to stand.”

I sensed she wanted to ask what Anu had revealed, but I couldn’t speak of it. It was too raw, and I didn’t want to dwell upon what I’d seen and felt. Aye, I’d heard the voice of my goddess, the one whose blood ran through my veins, but her words were a warning as much as they were a blessing.

Deirdre finished washing my limbs. “Come sit on the floor by the fire while I brush your hair. It will dry quicker that way.”

She dropped onto the chair and tossed her thick hair behind her shoulders as I sat on the floor in front of her. Mother used to brush my hair. So had Lidi. I closed my eyes as Deirdre lifted my wet hair into her lap and began to separate the tangles, thinking of how far I’d come since the days of Lidi tugging and pinning my hair.

* * *

Deirdre and I proceeded up the hill, my clean white gown swishing around my ankles. A small chain of delicate white flowers had been placed upon my head. The light fragrance hovered around me like a gossamer veil. I was bare under the loose-fitting fabric, as were all the women who would give themselves tonight. My hair was dry now and it fell in unbound waves to the small of my back.

Here, I didn’t have to hide. I lifted my chin a notch, feeling lightness in my soul, as I gathered the gown in my hands as we climbed higher and higher.

So many smells and sounds, so much energy, greeted us at the top of the hill. The moon had risen high and glowed against a backdrop of black sky and twinkling stars. The massive stones stood sentinel over the hill, watching in stoic silence. Several bonfires roared. Sparks shot into the air, popping or floating high into the night. Everywhere people danced, and ate, and sang.

We stepped onto a raised platform where Liath and Balen watched men and women link hands and skip in wide circles around the fires.

As I approached, Balen rose from his chair and pulled out the empty one next to him. His face was clean shaven, making the tattoo on his neck and jaw starker. His hair was wet and looked as though he’d recently swiped a few fingers through it.

But what struck me the most was the sense of lightness surrounding him; the darkness usually there had gone. A slow grin built on his face, creating a devastatingly handsome picture.

Heat and trepidation rushed through me as I met his amused eyes. He held out his hand. I slipped my in. And everything was better.

He tugged me forward until I bumped against him. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, his breath warm on my skin. Erotic shivers danced along my nerves. His scent filled me with fresh memories of our morning together. My chest went tight with emotion. Then the vision of the raven falling from the sky suddenly flashed in my mind.

“Deira,” he said, feeling my sudden stiffness and pulling back to stare down at me with concern. “You have regrets.”

“No, no,” I assured him, trying to shake off the vision. “No regrets.”

His jaw clenched and his expression went somber. “There’s much you don’t know about me. Things you need to understand…” He squeezed my hand in reassurance. “Tonight, we’ll talk.”

“All right,” I replied with a curt nod. Inside, confusion grew. I took my seat next to Balen, wondering if tonight he’d tell me what a terrible mistake this morning had been.

I shifted uneasily in my chair, half watching the festivities and completely frustrated by my lack of understanding when it came to men. Because of my halfling status, I’d never had much opportunity to cultivate a good understanding of the opposite sex. I’d had some interaction, but not, apparently, enough. And I really hadn’t tried all that hard because it had been pounded into me from an early age that no Danaan would ever be interested in me or in passing along my human blood to his child. I’d come to accept that I’d never find a mate, never have a child of my own.

Until Balen began changing my views and giving me hope.

I drained my cup of wine then poured another. Before long, the wine flowed like the river beyond the hill. Everyone was deep into their cups, the dancers, the priests and priestesses. Even Balen, I noticed, was drinking freely. He spoke and laughed with Liath, joined in with the songs, and clapped as the herds were run between the flames.

He won’t die if you leave him.

I froze, my cup halfway to my lips.

Do you hear? He won’t die if you break from him now.

The resonating voice shook me to the bone. A tremor of instant fear crept up my spine, making the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. The music and talk fell to the background. The scenes around the great fire slowed.

I, too, know what it’s like, Deira. We will never be good enough, pure enough, loved enough. They turned their backs on us, and they’ll do it again.

I blinked hard several times, trying to clear my head and regain control of my thoughts. Still, the scene before me moved too slow. Swept away by the magic of the festival, women pulled their loose gowns over their heads and danced naked in the arms of men, there before the fires, for all to witness.