A thin moon emerged from behind a cloud, and from the apex of the hill, I had a lovely view of the ocean, and the entire barren, rocky island. I could now see well enough to spot an old wooden house, with smoke rising from its brick chimney. As soon as I turned my attention to the little house, the lights inside flicked on. Someone was there. Thoroughly out of breath, I stumbled up to the door. God, when did I get so out of shape? I knocked on the door.
The Voice said something very different this time. “Why so meek? No need to knock. Come in.” Shrugging, I reached for the rusted gold knob and entered the house.
What I could immediately see was curious. The light came from the flame of mounted torches, yet somehow, their glow was as bright as modern lighting. The house was a bit dilapidated. Clearly, maintenance was not a priority.
And then, I saw her. Watching me enter the house was a pale, startlingly beautiful woman. Her flawless alabaster skin contrasted sharply with hair as dark as night. She regarded me through soft gray eyes, with swirls of glittering onyx. But there was a fierceness to her striking appearance. She wore precise red war paint around her eyes. Her maroon dress had a slit skirt and a plunging neckline, showing off graceful legs and ample cleavage.
After a moment, I realized something that made me swallow nervously. This woman bore an uncanny resemblance to myself. Somehow, I was staring at a more mature, more confident, more physically awesome version of myself. A sexier vision of what I could be, if I applied myself. Maybe. It was as if this woman was the platonic ideal of who I could become, though the idea of ever becoming as impressive as she was felt nearly impossible from where I stood. She sat on a throne cut from the trunk of a large oak tree. The aged wooden beams above were weighed down with birds. Black birds, so dark they looked like shadows. One of the crows, or ravens, whatever, flew down from the rafters to rest on top of the throne, and it made me shudder.
“Come, child, I do not bite.” There was a glint of mischief in her eye.
I sucked in a breath and stammered “Who— Who are you? Are you the one who called me here?”
The woman arched an eyebrow in a way that eerily echoed a gesture I myself frequently used to express irony. “Yes, child. I did call you here.” Her voice was a mellifluous alto. “As for who I am? Well... I think you know.”
“That’s not helpful,” I murmured, my gaze wandering. Suddenly, I recognized a familiar symbol on the woman’s necklace: the same three interconnected spirals, identical to Edna’s necklace. The pendant which, even now, I was trying not to call a fidget spinner.
“It’s not helpful? Is that what you said?” A small smirk crossed the woman’s face.
“Okay, fine. I think I do know who you are. You’re my ancestor, The Morrigan, right?”
The Morrigan gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. “Smart girl. Timid, but sharp. I can only hope you will prove able to assert yourself with time.”
“Yeah, uh, me too, I guess.” I realized I had big shoes to fill. It would take far more confidence to make someone a Morrigan. “Anyway, am I really here? I mean, did I get ‘magicked’ here? Or is this another dream? It’s been hard to tell the difference lately.” Slowly, I walked closer to her.
“Oh, it is real. You are in the House of Donn. Tech Duinn.” The Morrigan reached up to pet the crow. “This house, and this island, serve as a limbo. A way station, you might say, between life and death, for those trapped between sides.”
My heart nearly stopped from shock. “Wait, wait, hold up,” I blurted. “Did I die? Is this it for me? Oh my god. I did die! Was that—?”
“Stop right there,” the Morrigan interrupted, holding up one hand to halt my oncoming tirade. “I said between life and death. You are in the in-between. You have not died. Your body is still very much alive, and very much asleep. Your mind is in a state that allowed me to pull you here.”
All I could manage was a cut-off “Oh.” I felt silly for letting the panic overtake me based on one little word: Death. Nothing to get all stirred up over. But, with the shit storm raining down on me lately, can you blame me?
“Now, we have important matters to go over,” the Morrigan said. With a wave of her hand, two tree stump chairs appeared next to a nearby hearth. “Let’s get a little more comfortable first.”
As I went over and sat, I watched the Morrigan gliding to her own seat. Every movement was so fluid, so assured, and yet so natural that I couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous. Definitely didn’t get those genes.
The Morrigan sat and smoothly crossed her legs. “There is a phrase that you may hear often in the coming days. ‘Evil is coming, and with him he brings Darkness and Violence’.”
“You don’t say.”
“Together, the creatures behind all three of these wicked forces will try to kill you.”
“Me? What the fuc—?”
“Their reason is a prophecy. It is foretold that a descendant of mine shall call upon friends from near and far, to aid her in striking down those foul creatures. I have every reason to believe that descendant is you. There are great gifts within you.”
“Me? Yeah, right.”
“I speak
