44

(Previous Post: 43)

"I think you may be right." You say, speaking quietly. "I can't be certain, but I think you may be right." Your mind wanders back to the lake, the temple, and the strange lizard Goddess who--while somewhat intimidating--seemed to take a liking to me.

"I don't know who might be coming for us, though.” You breath in. “Have I told you anything about who they might be? What have I said?"

“You said they were strange, shadowy forms.” Roisin struggles with her description. “They're the color of rocks, and rough and rugged as if broken from stone. You weren't sure what they wanted, but thought it had something to do with who we are—what we are.”

• If you ask about your dreams, go to 45
• Place your next action in comments below, and your story will continue as soon as possible.

43

(Previous Post: 42)

"Okay." You say, staring off for a moment. "Okay."

You let this information sink in. It feels right, but it's as though you're hearing about someone else's life, not your own. Still, you feel as if you have no choice but to accept what she says as the truth.

"My mother..." You begin, turning to meet Roisin's eyes with your own. You realize you're still holding her hand. "What were her dreams like? What happened to her?"

“Ena used to dream of a land with wee brooks running straight across it from side to side, and the ground between divided into squares by a number of green hedges that reached from brook to brook. In her dreams there was a golden sultan from a land called Samarkand. He was coming after her. We all just took them to be nightmares, but....” Roisin pauses as Micaja returns.

“I was there when she passed.” Micaja cuts in. “The day she died, she spoke in her sleep. She said, 'He's found me.' Some of the kawmpa dismissed it—probably because a Half Breed was the one to tell them—but then you started having dreams about a distant land, and this time someone was coming for all of us. I for one ain't willing to risk it.”

“Neither am I.” Roisin squeezes your hand gently. “The stories of our ancestors speak of a land beneath the two worlds, where death-fire lights the way of dreamers. There was a time when the Fomori lived in both realms, feasting on the flesh of Dôls. I think Ena lived in both realms. I think you live in both realms.”

• If you ask about your dreams, go to 44
• Place your next action in comments below, and your story will continue as soon as possible.

42

(Previous Post: 41)

You sit next to Roisin; she seems to be the only one with any compassion for your situation.

"Who am I?" You ask imploringly. "I know my name is Aiden. I know my mother is Ena. I know, now, that both my parents are gone. But who am I? Why does everyone keep asking me what I've dreamed, what I know? Why is Nan angry with me? And--who are we?" You motion my hand toward the others.

“So many questions.” Roisin gives you a sad smile. “You'd been losing memories since a few dreams ago, but I had no idea.... You are Aiden O'Neill, son of Ena Kavanagh and Owen Zachary O'Neill, and one of the Magian kawmpa. We are all Magian Travellers, born true from the line of Irish Fomori—a line older than the gods. Well, all except Micaja, he's still a Half Breed.”

Micaja gives her a stern glare as he helps the others start to gather their plates from a dinner long since over. Bones stripped bare of their meat are tossed into the fire, plates gathered to wash later. The sun is starting to creep above the horizon, and it seems most everyone is overdue for some rest.

“Nan's just angry because we stole a vardo. You said we needed to force the kawmpa in a different direction. You've been dreaming of someone or something coming for us and, if your dreams are anything like your ma's, we should be paying attention.”

• If you ask about your mother and her dreams, go to 43
• Place your next action in comments below, and your story will continue as soon as possible.