Inis Draiochta
40 miles west of Ireland
796 BC

Tomorrow was the last day of the year. That meant that it was mid-Samonios, and tomorrow would be the great Samhain celebration. For almost all of the Celtic people, Samhain was the most exciting day of the year. It was the night they brought their cattle and sheep in to closer pastures for the long, cold winter. It was the day they stored all their harvested crops in their round houses, and started wearing their winter cloaks instead off the light summer ones.

It was also the most dangerous night, in some ways. On Samhain, the border between the worlds of the living and the dead was the thinnest, and so it was easy for long departed spirits to come back and mingle with the living. Samhain was also the day when all those who had died during the year finally made their way to the otherworld. The Celts lit great bonfires to help guide the dead to the afterlife, and to keep them away from the living. It was the night where all sorts beings roamed the land: ghosts, faeries, demons, and a plethora of dark creatures, hunting for souls to take back with them to the land of the dead.

Most people on Inis Draiochta were afraid of the supernatural. For on that island - more so there than in any other Celtic civilization - there were quite of a few magical denizens. The sea surrounding it abounded with merrows and selkies, and the woods were full of fairy changelings and it was rumored that the Dullahan occasionally rode through the fields.

Most people knew that on Samhain - and the nights surrounding it - you had to be very careful less any of the more sinister creatures find you alone. After all, nobody wanted to be out alone in a small boat at night when they hear the siren song. Only death could follow. And no one wanted to find a lost spirit, searching for someone to follow home.

Most people knew to avoid anything unnatural or immortal.

Morgandy O'Callaghan was not 'most people'.

She was a young girl, of what we in the present would refer to as eleven years in age. She had dark red hair, and often wore a bright blue dress with a bronze chain belt. She wore everyday leather shoes, and a bronze bracelet in the shape of a Celtic Knot.

Morgandy was the youngest child in her family. She had six older sisters, whose ages were fourteen, sixteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty three, and twenty five. Her parents were high ranking in their tribe, her mother being the youngest sister of the tribe's King's wife. They weren't the highest ranked, as her mother had five other sisters besides the King who were higher ranking. Because of their high rank, the family didn't have quite as many duties as the commoners, and because Morgandy had so many older siblings she often got off without many chores.

However, because most other children in the small coastal village were busy all day, she took to playing by herself. She would wander in the woods surrounding the villiage, or down along the rocky shore of the Atlantic Ocean. She liked to prowl the forest, hoping to find fairies or to meet a banshee, and although everyone warned her about the dangers of a far darrig or the Dark Man, she was fascinated by anything magical. She hoped one day to meet a ghost, and so every Samhain she sat down by the ocean in the dark, all alone save for her closest friend Annan. True, she waited until after the big bonfire, the sacrificing of the animals, and most of the Druid's divination, so by the time she reached her rock it was quite late and quite dark.

Annan was an unusual friend for a young girl. Some might call him ugly, others so far as 'grotesque' That wasn't surprising, seeing as he had scaly green skin, pig ears, red eyes, green hair and green fangs. Of course, he was a merrow, so that was understandable. Female merrow, or mermaids, were unearthly in their beauty, but incredibly devious, wanting nothing more than to drag unknowing men under water and hold their souls captive in a cage. Male, on the other hand, protected sailors and were kind and generous, despite their monstrous appearance.

That day, the day before Samhain, Morgandy was walking along the stream that ran through the thick deciduous forest, whose leaves were brilliant shades of red and gold, every now and then drifting slowly to the ground. She was trying to find the perfect spot to gather Dreaming Stones. She always liked to collect them the day before Samhain, so she could receive guidance that night for the next day, on where most of the...unpleasant things would be. The foresight the magic dreams gave may save her life, because if she knew where the various ghouls were hiding, she could avoid them much more easily.

She found the spot where she normally collected the stones: a small clearing on the banks of the stream, where she knelt on the dry, brown, leaves on the ground. She looked around warily first, mindful of fairies or leprechauns, and then reached her hand into the water. Between her middle finger and thumb, she slowly took three smooth stones from the stream one at a time. As she did so, she murmured the correct incantation.

"Togaidh mise chlach,
Mar a thog Moire da Mac
Air bhrigh, air bhuaidh, 's air neart;
Gun robh s chlachsa am dhorn,
Gus an ruig mi mo cheann uidhe."

Satisfied, she carefully slipped them into the pouch that hung from her bronze belt, and walk back home. It was already nearing sundown, and she knew it was almost time for dinner. As she came to the end of the woods, she arrived in the little villiage. It was a collection of round houses made from wood and mud, with thatched roofs. She could smell meat cooking over an open fire drifting out of the houses she passed, and she could hear the snorts and snuffles of the dogs or pigs that lumbered passed her down the dusty dirt roads. The caws of sea birds and the crashing of waves on the nearby beach echoed to her ears, as did the whispering of the wind through the dying autumn trees.

She passes several people on her way home, who she smiled at in greeting. Some of them smiled back uncertainly; she was, after all, commonly thought of as rather odd.

Morgandy reached her house and walked inside. Aphria, her sister closest in age, was sitting on the animal skins that covered the floor, holding a bronze plate. On it was a slab of cooked meat and some potatoes. Next to Aphria sat Branwin, who was sixteen, and nineteen year old Fianna. The rest of her sisters had their own families to eat dinner with. Her mother, Oilell, was already in the process of handing her a plate. Her father was absent, as he had died from sickness when she was eight. Morgandy took it and sat down next to Aphria.

"What did you do today, Morry?" Bronwin asked her youngest sister.

"Oh, she was off chasing fairies again," Aphria said.

"Was not," Morgandy said. "I gathered some dreaming stones."

"Those are always useful," Oilell remarked. "After all, we need to be especially careful tomorrow."

"Especially," Fianna said, looking pointedly at Morgandy, "if it is your nature to go looking for danger. Please be careful tomorrow, Morgandy. Samhain is a dangerous night."