Granny Myrta patted my back as she rocked us both, there on the stone bench. The faint scent of the flowers tucked into her belt was familiar. I couldn’t quite place it. I left my head on her shoulder, enjoying the grandmotherly comfort she offered, but I couldn’t wait to start with the questions.
“You said that I came through the healing of the menfolk,” I said, “but that it was done by the women. What did you mean?”
With her cheek pressed into the top of my head, I felt her facial muscles shift as she smiled, “Aye, that’s a good question. I misspoke, though. We’re no’ done yet.”
She released her embrace and sat up straight, and I did the same. She faced me, peering into my eyes. “Now it be my turn to ask. What did yeh see?”
I gave her a rundown: I saw who I now knew to be her husband and son, and the subversion of her child’s use of ath-shapach, how he was driven power mad and became a danger to himself and others.
“I couldn’t bear to witness, even psychically,” I said, “the horrors that he eventually drifted into. It felt as if it would infect my mind with his madness.”
“Aye,” she replied, shaking her head sadly, “the mind rot took him over. Inntinn-lobhadh became his constant companion, his lord and master. His father and I were distraught, witnessing our beautiful lad’s outrageous misuse of his birthright inheritance.”
Once again she looked me in the eye and said, “’Tis your inheritance, too, only it’s been shut off for centuries. Yeh’re the first of our kin to show signs of the madness having faded.”
“Yes,” I said, sitting up straighter, excited by this turn in the conversation, “That’s what Lord Gwyn suggested. But that means one of my parents … was this my mother’s or my father’s side of the family?”
“T’was yehr father, lass,” she said. “My distant grandson. This strain has passed from father to son, lo these many years. P’rhaps it took a girlchild to finally break the pattern … p’rhaps it was simply time, as our race evolves.”
I nodded, filing that bit of information away for later discussion. Instead, I said, “Tell me what happened to your son … my many-times great-grandfather. What was his name, anyway?”
She smiled wistfully, a far-away look in her ancient eyes, and said, “My poor wee lad. We called him Gillebrid. Such a beautiful boy. It broke our hearts to watch his downfall, helpless to save him.” She wiped away a few tears and continued, “Only we had to stop him, but how was beyond the ken of any of us. It was Padraic’s suggestion to consult with Gwyn ap Nudd, as we couldnae overpower Gillebrid and Inntinn-lobhadh, even with the full force of our community behind us. It took the magic of the Fae.”
Myrta reached for my hands and held them clasped within her own. “We’ve waited so long for yeh, lass. So very long.” Raising my hands to her lips, she kissed them both before releasing them. “We couldnae override Fae magic and had to wait for someone of our lineage to earn back the birthright.”
She crinkled her face with a broad smile and beamed, “That’s you, lassie. But it’s no’ just our family, it’s our community. Ath-shapach belongs to a people.”
I was about to interrupt with a question, but she continued, “We’re no’ as widespread as we once were — far too many of our bairns were overtaken by Inntinn-lobhadh, once it discovered how to worm its way in. The elders, taking their cues from Padraic and me, made the hard choice of dimming their lights over the generations. No Fae magic was necessary once the collective choice was made. And now, ath-shapach has become all but dormant.”
“Thank goodness,” I said. “I can’t imagine what the world would look like if bad actors were allowed to run loose with shapeshifting power.”
“Ah, but yeh see, lass,” Myrta said, “therein lies the rub. Inntinn-lobhadh has elevated a host of … bad actors … as yeh called them. Surely yeh’ve seen it at work in the world. They are of another ilk than our people. Similar, yet differently powered, and they act under a different set of rules. In the meantime, many of good will have been silenced. Until now.”
I gulped. “Do you mean me?”
“Aye, you and others like us,” she explained. “Yeh’re beginning to wake up, slowly … although no’ so slowly in yehr case,” she chuckled.
“But why me, if there are others in this … ilk?” I asked, recalling Lord Gwyn’s reminder that I’m not a ‘chosen one.’
“Why, yeh’re our own wee grandwee’un!” Myrta beamed. “Yehr great, great granda Padraic and I have been waiting and watching, praying and beseeching, all these many centuries for one of our’n to finally come into the world without such a heavy load of brokenness on their back.”
“Oh!” I replied, nonplussed.
“Yeh see,” she continued, “it had to be one of our’n, for it was our bloodline that cracked. Yeh’ve struggled with Inntinn-lobhadh, sure, but yeh had the wherewithal to see it and recognize it and … more importantly … name it.”
Pondering all she had shared, I finally asked, “Who else is one of … our people? Anyone I know?”
“Oh, surely yeh’ve run into them here and there,” Myrta said. “Have yeh no’ met someone and felt, ‘I know them from somewhere … they feel like kin,’ even though yeh’ve ne’er met?”
Maddie immediately came to mind, as did Seth, but I already knew that Seth and I had shared past lives. So I asked Granny Myrta, “I do have two friends, but one of them is someone I’ve had many lives with, as family. The other one, I feel like I’ve known forever, but I don’t get the feeling that she’s family.”
“They can both be one of our people, but one may be yehr soul lineage,” she replied, nodding, “as you and I are family. T’other may not be in our bloodline, but they may still be one of our people.”
That made sense. Maddie and I clicked in a way that I’ve rarely experienced but our friendship had a different quality than me and Seth. She and Seth hit it off immediately and she trusted him to take over her shop and even live in her apartment when she moved in with Paul. And, more than anyone I’ve ever met, Maddie literally embodied the word “shapeshifter.”
Melinda, on the other hand, absolutely played a role in my current adventure — after all, without her I wouldn’t be here now — but she did not feel like family. At all.
“What about someone who causes nothing but mayhem?” I asked. “The two I mentioned are dear to me, but I’m thinking of someone who uses her abilities selfishly and cruelly.”
“Ah, lass,” Myrta said, “someone like that can also be kin, playing a difficult role agreed upon before birth into the human realm. But they could also be one of the others I mentioned, one of the other ilk.”
My mind reeled as possibilities flooded through … what about powerful world leaders, those who genuinely worked for the good of their people and others who did just the opposite? Who were they, and why did the harmful ones get their way so often? Did they outnumber us, or were they just really good at disempowering their constituents?
If enough of us with ath-shapach woke up, could we overpower them? Is that why those in power resist us awakening? If we did awaken and try to overpower them, would we run the same risk as Gillebrid?
While lightbulbs popped in my head at a blinding pace, Granny Myrta continued speaking. I was finally pulled back into listening when I heard her say, “… and that’s what we need to do to complete yehr journey here.”
“Uh … what?” I sputtered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch all of that. What were you saying?”
“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” she smiled and ran her hand across my cheek. “Here, take in a deep sniff,” she said, handing me the small bouquet of colorful buds she had stashed in her waistband.
I held the flowers to my nose and breathed deep. I knew this scent and it was driving me batty, trying to name it. Meantime, I allowed it to work its magic, easing all anxiety and clearing my head, as Granny Myrta intended.
Handing them back to her, I asked, “What are those? I know that scent.”
“That’s Anail na Sean,” she said. “I grow them in my window box, one of my many botanicals. ‘Tis my own wee magic.”
Finally it hit me. “That’s Clary Sage!” I cried.
“Call it what yeh like,” she nodded. “Me, I prefer Anail na Sean … it means Ancestors’ Breath.”
“Wow,” I said, entirely flummoxed by all the synchronicities. “We’ll get back to that but, first, what were you saying about completing my journey? I feel like I’ve been here a long time and the light is shifting … I can hear the drumming getting louder. Does that mean I’m slipping away from here?”
“Aye, could be, lass,” Myrta said. “And that’s what I was saying when yehr mind wandered. It’s time for you to go, but first …” she paused her sentence while she reached into a deep pocket of her linen dress and retrieved a small glass bottle, so exquisitely carved that it sparkled, even in the rather dim light of the rotunda.
The bottle was so beautiful that I hungered to own it — I literally salivated, I wanted it so badly. I could barely concentrate on her words, but I forced my attention back. This was important.
Myrta pulled the cork from its neck and offered the bottle to me. “Just a few drops, mind, yeh’ll need no more than that.”
I brought it to my lips — blissfully grateful to even be allowed to hold the magnificent bottle — and took a few sips. It tasted of iron, like water from the Red Spring. As the drops made their way down my throat, I ‘saw’ myself lighting up from the inside out. My spine became a pillar of brilliant white light and each of my chakras blazed in the spectrum of full color. The glowing donut I’d seen earlier also blazed brightly, lit up in color as a looping, shimmering rainbow.
It took my breath away to witness the spectacular radiance of my own energy field. I’d seen artistic renderings of this toroidal field, but even the most perfect illustrations could never express the true beauty that light brings to color. Again the scent of Myrta’s flowers, the Ancestors’ Breath, wafted by and it steadied me, enabling me to breathe normally again.
“Aye, lassie, now yeh’ve got the way of it,” she said.
I handed the bottle back to her, easily releasing it into her hand, which surprised me considering how badly I coveted it just moments ago. It was still gorgeous cut crystal, but it was no longer my precious.
Now, though, Granny Myrta glowed the same way as I … a pure white pillar of light surrounded by a prismic torus, with a solidified human shape pressed into it.
“Oh, lass, yeh’ve done it,” she said, tears glittering in her lit-up eyes. “Padraic, come see,” she called out.
Next to her the shape of the man I’d seen earlier, my distant grandfather Padraic, materialized in similar form to hers, another spectacular display of light. The heartfelt power of his beaming smile was only slightly surpassed by the pure gratitude that oozed from every cell of his body.
He was gratitude embodied. In that instant, I understood ath-shapach. It rippled outward from him, filling the rotunda until even my own field shifted and I, too, was gratitude. Everything around us seemed altered by him. He did not impose himself upon the space; he harmonized it.
‘But what about Gillebrid?’ I wondered and, as if my thoughts were spoken aloud I saw, there between them, their son. As he materialized and realized where he was, who he was with and what had happened, he fell to his knees and sobbed as if his heart was breaking.
His glow wasn’t as strong as that of his parents or even me, for that matter. His mother, my Granny Myrta, knelt and folded him into her arms, crying with him, “Och, my poor wee lad.”
Padraic also turned to his son, joining his family on the stone floor of the rotunda, embracing them both. He patted his son’s back, offering soothing words, “All shall be well, Gillebrid …”
Myrta wiped her eyes and stood before me. “Yehr work here is done, dear child. Yeh’ll likely have more to do on yehr own, but the hard part is behind yeh … behind us all, thanks be to you.”
“Aye,” said Padraic, turning his head to face me, still on his knees with his son, “yeh’ve done yehr family proud. And now, we’ve to get this’un to Lord Gwyn for permission to enter the Cauldron.”
Gillebrid, my distant grandfather, finally became aware that I was even there. He reached out both hands to me and I took them in mine. He said, his voice cracking, “I’m in nae condition to fully express …” he stammered a bit then continued “… give me time, lassie …”
“Of course,” I said, “I’m grateful, too. You’re not the only one who’s been released.”
“Seren awaits,” Granny Myrta reminded me, touching me gently on the shoulder.
I released Gillebrid’s hands and glanced at the wooden door on this side of the rotunda, this side of the Cauldron of Rebirth. Before turning to go, I said, “Will I ever see any of you again?”
“Aye,” Granny said, and the men both nodded. “Whenever yeh smell the Ancestors’ Breath, yeh’ll know we’re nearby. And should yeh need us …”
“Aye, should yeh need us,” Padraic said, “yeh’ve got ath-shapach. Use it. We’ll hear yeh.”
Reassured that this wasn’t the end … in fact, it was just the beginning … I opened the wooden door and stepped outside, where I was greeted by Seren and the King of the Fae, Gwyn ap Nudd.
“Lola Garnett,” he said, “welcome and well done.”
I bowed my head and pressed my hands together, and said, “Thank you, Lord Gwyn, for all you’ve done for my family. We’re not out of the woods yet, though. I believe you’re needed inside.”
Without a word, he strode up the steps and into the rotunda, his part in this aspect of my journey complete. Seren reached out her hand and said, “Shall we? Your friends await, and I believe your physical form needs you to rejoin it.”
And just like that, I opened my eyes and found myself in my body, lying atop the grassy Tor on the sweatshirt and afghan, shivering with the cold. Maddie had covered me with her jacket, but I was chilled through anyway.
Looking down at me, eyes filled with concern, were Maddie and the crystal vendor, the young woman who yearned to visit America. Standing behind them, still in their full-size, Pea and Twink also looked down at my reclined body, and Myx and Maj fluttered over Maddie’s head.
“I think she’s okay,” said the woman.
I sat up, pulled my sweatshirt on and rubbed my arms to warm them. “Brrr,” I said, “it got chilly, didn’t it?”
“Not a moment too soon,” Maddie cried. “I was about to jiggle you awake, you were gone so long. I knew you must be freezing, with your back on the ground like that!”
“I’ll be fine,” I told her. “But I am looking forward to a nice, warm cup of tea. Let’s go home.”
“Yeh’re going nowhere yet,” the woman said. “I have some tea right here.” She opened a thermos, poured steaming tea into the matching cup and handed it to me.
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” I moaned, turning on the drama. “Thank you.” I sipped the tea, noticing that it was washing away the taste of iron in the back of my throat.
As I settled back into my body, I finally observed the quality of light in the late afternoon sky. It was slightly off, borderline spooky. “How far along is the eclipse?” I asked.
“We’re on the other side of it,” said Maddie. “That’s what had me worried. You were out for quite a while.”
“Hmm,” I nodded, taking another sip of hot tea. “It felt like I was down there forever. So much happened! But as Twink has reminded me so often, time doesn’t move the same across the veil.”
At the mention of her name, Twink stepped forward. No one but me could see her … I could tell by the lack of reaction from the two humans with me.
“Aye, and so it cannot,” she said. “Otherwise yeh could never have done so much powerful work. Well done, friend.”
My jaw dropped. Twink had never shown me that kind of respect. Something had shifted here, as well. Before I had a chance to respond, she faded from view.
“Lola, what is it?” Maddie asked.
“Huh?”
“Your jaw was hanging open,” she explained, “like you were seeing something bizarre.”
I chuckled and said, “Yep, it was bizarre alright. I’ll tell you later.”
“Help me get up, would you?” I reached my arms out to Maddie and the woman. “I’m a little stiff from laying on the cold ground for so long.”
“Are you quite well?” the woman asked, hoisting me up with Maddie.
“I’m better than well,” I said, my heart swelling with appreciation for the concern shown by a newly-found soul-friend. “All shall be well, and all shall be well …”
“… and all manner of thing shall be well,” the woman finished the line with me. “Aye, Julian of Norwich. I love her work.”
“That’s who it is!” I cried, “I couldn’t remember.”
I wobbled a bit so Maddie took my arm. “We’re in no hurry,” she said. “You wait until you’re steady.”
Taking a beat, I felt into my body. Was I okay to make that long trek back to the rental? Now that I was paying attention, I saw and felt that a few parts of my consciousness had not yet returned so I took a moment to allow them to fall into placeI read her name there on the card, above her email address and phone number, and slipped it into my own back pocket.. I knew I was complete when I felt … whole. Literally whole, like never before, except maybe inside the rotunda with my ancestors.
This reminded me. I stooped down and grabbed my bottle of Clary Sage oil. I opened it and took a sniff … Ancestors’ Breath … and instantly felt my field’s donut glowing brighter. With a childlike giggle, I thought ‘cover it with rainbow sprinkles’ and it was so.
“I’m good,” I grinned. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” the woman said, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans. She handed me a business card and said, “Let’s stay in touch, shall we?”
I read her name there on the card, above her email address and phone number, and slipped it into my own back pocket.
“Chantelle,” I said, “I would love that. I’ll text you.”
She gave me a big warm hug, then ran across the Tor to rejoin her compatriots and waved goodbye. I waved back and stooped again to gather my things into my backpack, while Maddie rolled the afghan up to stuff it into her bag.
One last time, I looked across the top of the Tor to the drummers and beamed with blessings toward my new friends. The atmosphere around me changed. It shifted.
All was well as we set off down the hill, back the way we came.
To follow along, you’ll want to first meet Lola and Twink in A Faery on My Shoulder and The Faery Falls. They’re only $4.44 each on Kindle (also available in paperback), or I’m happy to gift you an e-copy if money’s tight — just promise to pay it forward by being a supportive reader, sharing posts, or sprinkling encouragement.
Lisa Bonnice is the co-author of Fear of Our Father, now a Lifetime Original movie (Monster in the Family). Beyond true crime, her fiction explores the mysteries that shape us—from the humor-and-heart metaphysical comedies A Faery on My Shoulder and The Faery Falls to Castle Gate, a genealogy-based historical novel about ancestral healing and resilience, available in both print and audio.
Lisa hosts the podcast NOW with Lisa Bonnice and writes about the intersection of truth, transformation, and storytelling. Learn more at lisabonnice.com.