Long ago, in an unknown year, a wondrous story occurred. It happened when the English king attempted to steal Ireland from its people. He found the Irish people’s determination to live in their homes an obstacle, but he frightened them away from a large portion of Ireland and built his castle there to watch over his newfound land.

Only half of Ireland still belonged to its people, but they accepted this, although still very bitter. They had not forgiven the king, and it was doubtful they ever would. The only thing separating the enemies was a great, long forest. It divided the two different worlds. On one side were English-accented people, on the other, Irish-accented people.

On the other side of the forest…a castle was stolen, along with its clan. An older king ruled over the keep with wisdom and kindness. He prevented many a war, and there hadn’t been one, not even an uprising, throughout his reign.

A band of Irish gypsies came to the castle. The king was excited to meet new people and, seeing and knowing the cruelty others inflicted on these unique people, he invited them to stay with him in his castle. The leader of the gypsies, a greedy man, would soon take advantage of the old king and his family. Finally, when the king tried to turn them out of his kingdom, the gypsies ran to his room and killed him. Then the gypsy leader took over the rule of the castle.

On his deathbed, he willed the kingdom to his only living heirs, his two daughters.

A new generation began.

~ * ~

In that mystic forest, a small female figure created the illusion of flying, with her small feet running across the mossy ground, and her cape billowing behind her like wings. The short, blue cape fluttered gently about her narrow shoulders. Her honey-colored face barely peered from the hood as she brushed past well-known trees.

The morning sunrise was the perfect background for the small woman. She moved easily, quietly, across the moss-coated floor of the dark forest. Tiny bits of the first light filtered between the plush branches and leaves of the assorted willows and oaks that surrounded her, illuminating her path with a warm glow. Her slender fingers grazed each tree familiarly as she flew past them on long, agile legs. Her unique golden-brown eyes veiled briefly, as her pert nose took in the moist, fresh dawn air with fervor. She seemed to revel in something about her. Maybe it was merely the forest that brought her such joy, such easy pleasure.

She was far too enthralled with the dew-encrusted, dawning day to notice the dark masked figure in the long black cape. He sat boldly upon his silent stallion. The sloping branches of the willow effectively hid him from her sight. He watched her with intrigue-filled eyes as he had so many times before. He knew where she would go from here, but he still hadn’t discovered where she always disappeared to after that.

So many secrets, so many mysteries...