THE MORRIGAN CHRONICLES

MORRIGAN LAY ON a white sandy beach. The air was clean and salty as the sun warmed her even though the cool waves trickled over her toes. She sat up, looking at the cloudless blue sky and the bright turquoise ocean.

She knew she was in Cian’s dream. She dreaded and wondered what Cian would see in hers. Being bound like this was frustrating. It didn’t seem fair that you could never know what the other person was seeing about you. But life was rarely fair.

She looked behind her, but the details were blurry. The dream wanted her to look at the ocean. She stared at the water, appreciating the beauty and gentleness of it when she heard a child laughing. She turned to see a small boy, about five years old she guessed, giggling about fifty feet away on the beach. He was up to his ankles in the water, staring out at it. His long black hair blew behind him in the ocean breeze. Large blue eyes searched the water. Not scared, but in anticipation. A large man burst out of the water ten feet from him and he jumped. The man landed next to the boy and picked him up. The boy laughed hysterically, as only a child can.

Cian stood with the small boy now on his hip and said as he stared at the water, “Where do you think Mommy is?”

They walked up and down the beach for a few minutes and Cian sat the boy down. “I guess Mommy left us.”

A woman jumped out of the water landing on the other side of the boy as he squealed and jumped into her arms. “Mommy! Mommy! I found you!”

“Yes you did, my little shrimp,” she said, poking his bare belly. She had long black hair that shone dark blue in the sunlight. She was beautiful.

Long and lean, very strong. Her heart shaped faced had chiseled cheeks and large blue eyes that matched the boy’s.

“I didn’t know Cian had a wife and son.” Morrigan said, realizing she was talking to herself. “By the Creator, it’s not like they can hear me.” She screamed, “Hey asshole what the hell happened to make you such a douchebag?”

Cian, his wife, and son were playing in the sand. Not paying any attention to Morrigan’s taunts.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at herself. The family played in the sand for hours, or maybe minutes. Hard to tell in dreams.

The whole scene went blurry and then she was in a room. A large rectangular trough at least twelve feet in length presided in the center of the room, a fire contained in it. The walls were of dark wood and bore tapestries depicting oceans around the world. The scents of cinnamon and oak wafted through the air. Cian, his six brothers and his father were drinking ale at a table next to the fire. They were laughing and talking. She could not make out their words, but they were enjoying one another’s company. One would stand and reiterate something and hit Cian on the shoulder while the others laughed. Cian laughed as well, hanging his head low, shaking it. They were teasing him about something.

Cian, his brothers and father were at the table in the same room but the scene shifted. No laughter and mugs of ale this time. Their faces were tight and Cian stood and yelled, “This is madness! All of you! We do not serve the Gods. You know they cannot be trusted. They mislead and twist everything to serve themselves and nobody else. You have to see this. You must know this in your hearts! This will be our undoing!”

The Fomoire King stood and said, “You are being unreasonable and shortsighted, Cian.”

Cian stormed out of the room and the room vanished.

Cian was running up the beach where he and his family had played earlier in the dream. He had on his black and blue fish scale leathers. His sword was out and his face was panicked. About forty Fomoire in battle gear followed him with the same panic on their faces.

He and the others reached a village nestled next to the ocean. The flames were gone but smoke still drifted into the sky. Buildings were mostly burned but some were still intact. The smell of blood and death filled the air. Bodies of burnt headless Fomoire littered the ground. Thousands of them. Cian rushed towards the main hall, stepping around bodies, and flung open the large oak double doors. Hope filled his chest, the building showed no signs of fire. His wife and son were not burned, but their severed heads lay next to their crumpled bodies. He dropped to his knees. The loss was overwhelming, his chest felt as if it split open and everything ripped out. His body shook and convulsed as tears streamed from his eyes. He could barely see, but as he lifted his gaze he saw his father sitting on the throne. His face bore a look of shock, a few feet away on the ground.

The scene shifted again. The forty or so Fomoire and Cian stood outside the village. They raised their hands and balls of fire arced up into the air, sending what was left into flames. They sat on the beach, numb, and watched the village and their loved ones burn. When nothing was left but ashes, they once again extended their arms out, intertwining their powers, sending the remains into the earth. Nothing was rebuilt where the village once was.

Morrigan felt herself back in her own mind and body. She was groggy but felt well. Sleep began to fall away and her eyes opened.

She blinked a few times and saw a smirking smile and bright blue eyes. “Man oh man, you are one kinky chick,” Cian teased.