Interspecies Communication?

Is it quantum communication?

Can we communicate with plants ... the trees, the flowers, the grass ... as much as we can communicate with other animals? Is that ability hard-wired into our biology only to be snuffed out by mis-education?

Vulcan would take Quasimi a gift. Something to delight him.

The dwarf god possessed as much skill over wood as he did over metal. He cut a branch from a towering white oak.

The spirit of the tree emerged. Crimson stained her fingers. She staunched the flow of blood from a gash in her side. “You bereave me with no consideration?”

Vulcan fumbled for words. His glance darted between the wood in his hand and the tree spirit’s wound. “I didn’t know you were alive.”

“Your lack of awareness is apparent.”

He held out the branch, to return it to her.

“No. It is like a child. Once born it cannot re-enter the womb. But know this: It will retain memory of the roots that birthed it.”

“I meant to use it for a gift.”

“Do with it what you will, but don’t steal from me again.”

“And your wound?”

“It will heal in time.” The tree spirit re-entered the white oak. — Excerpt from The Tale of Hermes' Wand, Isolt's Enchantment

I'll leave you with U2's One Tree Hill, a song about loss, honor, nature, and wonder ...

 

Song Lyrics:
We turn away to face the cold, enduring chill
As the day begs the night for mercy love
The sun so bright it leaves no shadows
Only scars carved into stone
On the face of earth
The moon is up and over One Tree Hill
We see the sun go down in your eyes

You run like river, on like a sea
You run like a river runs to the sea

And in the world a heart of darkness
A fire zone
Where poets speak their heart
Then bleed for it
Jara sang, his song a weapon
In the hands of love
You know his blood still cries
From the ground

It runs like a river runs to the sea
It runs like a river to the sea

I don't believe in painted roses
Or bleeding hearts
While bullets rape the night of the merciful
I'll see you again
When the stars fall from the sky
And the moon has turned red
Over One Tree Hill
We run like a river
Run to the sea

We run like a river to the sea
And when it's raining
Raining hard
That's when the rain will
Break my heart

Raining, raining in the heart
Raining in your heart
Raining, raining to your heart
Raining, raining, raining
Raining to your heart
Raining, raining in your heart
Raining in your heart
To the sea

Oh great ocean
Oh great sea
Run to the ocean
Run to the sea

Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.

Ebook

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Is Confession Good for the Soul? Maybe Not.

Although, it's great for the State.

The inscription for War & Grace is:

Not with false guides, nor with false gods—Voltaire

I chose this quote because among Melia's adversaries are a priest who invests in structural hierarchies and a princess who yearns to be a despot. As leaders in different countries, they could fill the bill of "false guides".

Voltaire came to my attention when I read a fabulous book: Passionate Minds by David Bodanis (which I highly recommend!) while I was writing War & Grace. A literary trickster, Voltaire played a significant role in dismembering the Roman Catholic Church/Bourbon Monarchy oligarchy in France.

Plus, he became an avid gardener!

"We must cultivate our own garden." — Voltaire

So ... back to my original question. Is confession good for for the soul? Maybe not. Although, it's great for the State. Since the beginning of time, human factions (whether they're nominally religious, nation states, monarchies or political parties) have been in search of information about rival human factions.

1. Sun Tzu (544 - 496 B.C.): The Art of War author touted the strategic advantage of foreknowledge. "Knowledge of the enemy's dispositions can only be obtained from other men." That would be confessions from "(1) Local spies; (2) inward spies; (3) converted spies; (4) doomed spies; (5) surviving spies."

2. The Roman Catholic Church: "It is almost impossible for us nowadays to grasp the sheer power of the Church in medieval Europe. ...Where there was a priest, there was an intelligence agent of Rome ... For over eight-hundred years Rome monitored, checked, steered, and often dictated European policy based on its control of information ... the Church reported everything to Rome. That was what it was for. That was its job. The Catholic Church's intelligence service rested on four pillars: the power of the confessional; a virtual monopoly of literacy and learning; good communications and the Inquisition." — The Puppet Masters by John Huges-Wilson Eww!

3. Sigmund Freud: Cultural Dildo and author of (the gothic novel?) The Interpretation of Dreams performed a great service circa WWI and WWII for those concerned with obtaining otherwise private information about other human beings by shifting the confessional from the church to the psychoanalyst's couch, thus removing the religious stigma and easing us into secular-approved -encouraged admissions. Just as icky!

4. Now we have Social Media where confessions are made voluntarily, publicly, and the mechanisms themselves are financially subsidized (personal computers, smart phones, tablets, etc.) by the confessor. "Businesses that make money by collecting and selling detailed records of private lives were once plainly described as "surveillance companies." Their rebranding as "social media" is the most successful deception since the Department of War became the Department of Defense."—Edward Snowden

So let me reframe the question. Can false guides or false gods exist without the individual's confession?

"If every living creature in the Whole could harmonize minute by minute, day by day"—Anton snorted his contempt—"with the invisible energy permeating the Whole, there would be an evolution in consciousness, a single leap into a new age. I find it difficult to believe you of all people subscribe to such a ludicrous belief."

"I do," Melia said.

An enraged Anton responded: "There must be order and control. Documentation and research. Leadership and discipline." — War & Grace

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In a time when the Realm of Faerie and Planet Earth exist in symbiotic union, the epic journey of a young half-faerie woman will transform the future of both worlds ...

My name is Melia Albiana and I stand on the edge of the abyss.

Before I leap, I exhale a breath out of time.

The beauty of the Whole unfurls before me—its intricacy, its complexity, its endurance, its mystery, its majesty.

I am filled with awe.

The universal awareness passes and I am left with the poverty of my personal legacy.

I will die young.

I will die broken.

I will die grief-stricken.

I will die lonely.

And I will die a monster.

I will also die consumed by love.

Whimsical and edgy, Daughter of Light is an epic fantasy with an intriguing cosmology and well-developed characters for readers of all ages.

The First Day of Spring 2018: War & Grace Release

Over the next few months, I'll be continuing my posts on the Daughter of Light trilogy and its prequel Isolt's Enchantment, but this week I want to post some content about the 10-year (plus) journey I took in arriving at this date of the release of the final installment.

Today, I'll keep things very simple and simply post the Acknowledgments for War & Grace:

The Daughter of Light trilogy is inspired by my beloved grandmother and the transformative effect she had on my life. It is equally inspired by my husband. He has been with me every step of the way since its inception. My grandmother was a gardener, connected to the earth. I didn’t realize until she passed the door she’d opened for me to the natural world. My husband is my heart. These works are from him as much as they are from me because they wouldn’t have existed without his contributions, whether it was finessing a plot point, the technicalities of publishing software, or creating the gorgeous covers.

Rachmi Febrianty, Sheila of Frostbite Publishing, and Brenda Ayala were early readers who stuck with the series through its various incarnations through the end. THANK YOU! Each of your contributions were SIGNIFICANT. In particular, Rachmi insisted on the maps early on and always pressed on details, Sheila pushed for the Black Magic Island dragons to not disappear from the story (as they did in early drafts), and Brenda demanded in the most gracious way that Melia be and grow into a worthy heroine.

Like many (most?) (all?) contemporary fantasy authors, I read Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia as a child and the major Tolkien works (The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings) as a young teen. It’s common knowledge that Tolkien and Lewis were friends, professional colleagues and that they both professed a personal faith in Christianity which influenced their respective works.

The Lord of the Rings was a huge and direct inspiration for Daughter of Light, but—of course!—changes had to be made. Who wants to retell The Lord of the Rings when it’s already been told so well?

What were the designed changes (made over a decade ago) in Daughter of Light?

1. The protagonist along with a multitude of other major characters are female.
2. While Tolkien’s cosmology pre-dates contemporary history, the Realm of Faerie and the rest of the enchanted world in Daughter of Light exist parallel to the mortal world. There's a (quantum) exchange of energy between the two.
3. The Primal Essence, the Parallel of Shadows, and the Void in Daughter of Light are quantum realms.
4. Language, style of dress, the attitudes and experiences of the characters in Daughter of Light travel much closer to modernity.

Thus, Daughter of Light explores and relies on the newer ideas of quantum mechanics and how reality forms. QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT is at the heart of the story … “quantum entanglement … predicts that changing one particle instantaneously changes the other — even if they are on opposite sides of the galaxy, 100,000 light-years apart.”

While developing the arc of Melia's journey I documented my research on spirituality in the Sunburned blog series on my website. The three most DIRECT contributions came from: Julian of Norwich (I'd never even heard of her before I began this project!) and her theology of love; Kiran Trace and her shared of experience for her own personal spiritual awakening; and John Mark Stroud's vision of a regenerated Planet Earth.

Finally, thank you to the readers. May we all seek and find expressions of mundane, mystical and transformational love in our everyday lives.

Sincerely,
Heidi Garrett

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In a time when the Realm of Faerie and Planet Earth exist in symbiotic union, the epic journey of a young half-faerie woman will transform the future of both worlds ...

My name is Melia Albiana and I stand on the edge of the abyss.

Before I leap, I exhale a breath out of time.

The beauty of the Whole unfurls before me—its intricacy, its complexity, its endurance, its mystery, its majesty.

I am filled with awe.

The universal awareness passes and I am left with the poverty of my personal legacy.

I will die young.

I will die broken.

I will die grief-stricken.

I will die lonely.

And I will die a monster.

I will also die consumed by love.

Whimsical and edgy, Daughter of Light is an epic fantasy with an intriguing cosmology and well-developed characters for readers of all ages.

Though She Be But Little ...

"Though she be but little, she is fierce."—Shakespeare

On Writing War & Grace: Video Update #5

Pre-Order War & Grace!

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In a time when the Realm of Faerie and Planet Earth exist in symbiotic union, the epic journey of a young half-faerie woman will transform the future of both worlds ...

My name is Melia Albiana and I stand on the edge of the abyss.

Before I leap, I exhale a breath out of time.

The beauty of the Whole unfurls before me—its intricacy, its complexity, its endurance, its mystery, its majesty.

I am filled with awe.

The universal awareness passes and I am left with the poverty of my personal legacy.

I will die young.

I will die broken.

I will die grief-stricken.

I will die lonely.

And I will die a monster.

I will also die consumed by love.

Whimsical and edgy, Daughter of Light is an epic fantasy with an intriguing cosmology and well-developed characters for readers of all ages.

Come Away, O Human Child

Illusion, magic, seduction ... a tangled knot of obedience and betrayal, loss and a desire for vengeance give rise to Isolt's enchantment.

Ahead, an enormous marble palace seemed to rise from the ground. Its polished turrets pierced a darkening sky. Isolt dropped Tarquin’s hand. Her elegant feet refused to take another step.  She wrapped her arms around herself to quell the uncontrollable shivering that possessed her. Tarquin faced her. His face swirled in a spiral. Isolt rubbed her eyes. All this marching. She was exhausted.

He held a key forged from a luminous dark metal in his palm. She let her gaze rise. His shock of blond hair and familiar broad shoulders shushed the foreboding within.

“This is our home,” he said. “Use the key to unlock the door. Please, so we can live here forever.”

With one hand cradling her belly, Isolt reached with the other. The metal was so smooth. So mesmerizing. Clutching the mysterious key, she walked slowly to the palace door. The key practically slipped itself into the lock. As she turned it, she looked back to smile at her beloved king.

He waved her on as she pushed opened the door.

A malignant force gripped her and yanked her within. The air reverberated. The walls of the palace disintegrated.

No one heard her cries.

Her first thought was of her son. There was no way to save him.—Isolt's Enchantment.

Loreena Mckennit sings about faery's and the seduction of a nameless human child in Stolen Child:

 

Stolen Child lyrics:

Where dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water-rats
There we've hid our faery vats
Full of berries
And of reddest stolen cherries

[Chorus:]
Come away, O human child
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim grey sands with light
By far off furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles
Whilst the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep.

[Chorus]

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car
In pools among the rushes
That scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams

[Chorus]

Away with us he's going
The solemn-eyed
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.

[Chorus]

For he comes, the human child
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand.

Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.

Ebook

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Apple | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | kobo

Paperback

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Ignorance Is Bliss?

Two stories, two radically different outcomes.

Are we born rooted in the garden (planet Earth)—along with our animal and plant compatriots?

If the answer is yes, we can expect/hope for outcomes like this:

What if you could talk to animals and have them talk back to you?

Andrea Breytenbach has dedicated her life to what she calls interspecies communication. She sends detailed messages to animals through pictures and thoughts. She then receives messages of remarkable clarity back from the animals ... the amazing story of how Diabolo became Spirit:

If we believe the answer is no, we can expect/predict more outcomes similar to this:

Endangered Sumatran tiger disemboweled, hung up in Indonesia.

Cats of all shapes and sizes appear throughout Daughter of Light.

The maned visage roared in Celeste’s mind. Etched on a lambent gold shell, harvested from the depths of the Great White Sea, its regal quality drew the mortal woman’s hand. Above all the exquisite rattles on display, the lion’s tawny head resonated most deeply with the hopes she held for her child.—The Stargazer, Isolt's Enchantment

“Come in,” the invitation drifted from the interior.

As Melia crossed the threshold, cats—real ones, not botched spells like Malachi—froze, watching her. She felt as if she were a four-armed, blue-skinned sorceress from Kyrakkos who’d wandered into a crowded bar at Southend. She took another step. The creatures resumed their feline movement—re-curling in their high perches and stretching on the front room’s magenta sofa.

A unique fragrance filled the cottage. Vanilla? Cinnamon? She couldn’t quite place it, but it made her want to curl up on one of the sofas, alongside the cats, and take a nap. She forced herself to stand straight.

“Coffee?” The Illustrator’s question came from the back of her studio
.
Before Melia could answer, the woman returned with two plates. She set them on a table then brushed a fat black cat from its seat. The cat glared at Melia, straightened its tail, and padded from the room. —The Illustrator, Half Faerie

Sinjiin roared.

Flora and Aldous had almost reached the bottom of the stairs. Jade’s arms circled Lola. They were trapped together in the center of the dais. Ryder shielded them, wielding a dagger he’d wrested from a knight. Sinjiin tread a menacing perimeter. Three knights taunted the tiger from a safe distance.

Gavin urged them on.

Melia circled the chamber. Volcanic heat rose like bile in her throat. Sinjiin’s mighty bulk stretched across the dais. Blood stained his fur. Three separate blades pierced his throat, flank, and hindquarters. Their hilts quivered as the tiger gasped for air.

Jade and Aldous knelt beside the large cat. Jade eased the blade from the wound in the tiger’s throat as the elf stemmed the flow of blood with a strip of cloth. Lola hovered over them, batting her hands. Ryder and Flora parried with two knights.

Melia released her anguish in a guttural blast that shook the entire chamber.—The First Battle, Half Mortal

A vast plain of dried grass and brush stretched before him. He sniffed the air: the dust of dry earth, the wet of water—a river, and the blood of a fresh kill. He threw back his head and roared. Overheard, dazzling light punctured a pitch-black sky.

He tore across the plain, his mighty paws kicking up dirt and tiny rocks. Another mighty beast raced by his side, his mate. They pounded the land in unison. By the time they reached the blue wildebeest, the hyena that had killed it was long gone. He crouched to rip a chunk of meat from the dead animal. It was a good night.

After his mate finished eating, they curled around one another and slept deeply.—The Heart of a Lion, War & Grace

I'll leave you with this powerful visual and instrumental tribute to all felines, freedom, and nature, John Barry's Born Free.

And if you've never heard the lyrics:

Born free, as free as the wind blows
As free as the grass grows
Born free to follow your heart

Live free and beauty surrounds you
The world still astounds you
Each time you look at a star

Stay free, where no walls divide you
You're free as the roaring tide
So there's no need to hide

Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
'Cause you're born free

(Stay free, where no walls divide you)
You're free as the roaring tide
So there's no need to hide

Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
'Cause you're born free

We Will All Know Joy

In Isolt's Enchantment the story of a young priest in Idonne—Ryder—intertwines with tales about the origin of the Whole and the history of several magic artifacts that will figure largely in Daughter of Light.

The day came when the dwarf god crawled for the third time from the depth of Una’s belly. Blackened with soot and ash, he labored beneath a magnificent fiery wheel. The wheel flung energy far and wide from the core of its rotation. Vulcan roared, “I name this the Sun.”

A great light followed in the wheel’s wake, dispelling the darkness.

“What have you done?” Una exclaimed, “I can see all that I am, and I am glorious!”

It took all Vulcan’s strength to heave the flaming ball into the heavens where it would dance with the moon, like a lover, across Una’s starry skies until the end of time. “The Sun will be recognized as my most marvelous creation.”

Indeed it was, for Vulcan’s magic created a light which would rise each day from the east, spreading its potent, life-giving force upon Una’s fecund belly. Each night it would set in the west, as the moon appeared amidst the sparkle and shine of millions of twinkling stars.

“It’s breathtaking,” Una murmured. “Can I ever thank you?”

“I will bring my people here. They will nurture you to spectacular abundance. We will all know joy.” — Isolt's Enchantment, Isolt's Enchantment

Suffice it to say the road to joy will be a long and one winding one ...

I love this guitar cover of George Winston's Joy. It has the feeling of creation.

Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.

Ebook

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Paperback

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Who Do We Owe?

And what do we owe them?

Anton straightened the front of his robes and folded his hands before him on the desk. “You romanticize danger and risking your life. But the world beyond these walls is not what you think it is. You’re safe here in the citadel—”

“A safety that is suffocating me. Must my body weaken and my spirit wither while I am still young?”

A shadow darkened Anton’s pale blue eyes. “Fate brought you to the Order. You’re a gifted scholar. And soon you’ll be a gifted priest.”

“I will soon be a man. One with ties to no family. I would choose my own future.”

Anton pushed his chair back with a loud scrape. He stood up and leaned across his desk. “The Order of Idonnai has invested in you. We’ve fed you, sheltered you, and trained you. You owe us your allegiance.” He paced.

“Your demand I pay with my life’s blood for not drowning me like an unwanted kitten is unfair! I’m nothing more than a slave here.”

Ryder didn’t see Anton’s hand, but he felt the crest of the ring cut his lip as his head jolted to the side. He relished the sting as he licked blood from his lip.

Anton stepped back. “You will take your vow!”

Any gratitude or indebtedness Ryder had ever felt toward Anton or the priesthood leached from him. He controlled his impulse to pummel the priest, but his entire body shook with the effort. He would not take the Oath of Non-Interference, because he would never commit his mind, or his body, or his heart to a life of inaction. — The Idonnai Guard, Isolt's Enchantment

If our life does not belong to us, who does it belong to?

The melodic movement of Michael Hedges' instrumental piece Aerial Boundaries captures the dance of Ryder's determination to move beyond the limits Anton and the priesthood  have set for him.

Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.

Ebook

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Paperback

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A Slave to Matter

Is there an unseen force that drives Life? If we can’t see it, how can we communicate with it? Can we feel it? Could our bodies—in their totality—crassly be referred to as wetware for Cosmic Consciousness? Does an obsessive drive for external information (facts and events as defined by a limited human point of view) and wealth (owning, collecting, and/or amassing matter) distort dumb down numb shut off our physiological transmitters?

In the chapter Koldis, an ambitious member of a wealthy scholastic order in the business of hidden knowledge prioritizes his rise in the priesthood’s hierarchy. But he’s blinded—figuratively and literally—figuratively by a quest for immediate gratification and literally by the Sand Gypsies.

A slave to matter, he's blinded by all that glitters and dismisses all that he cannot "see."

Anton bowed his head in a show of obeisance.

Cashel, the head of the Order of the Idonnai, motioned him to sit.

The elder priest removed a dull leather pouch from the desk. He passed it from hand to hand. The unmistakable clink of coins filled the silence between the two men. “We’ve received word from Typhos,” Cashel said. “A sailor claims to possess an artifact of great interest to us. If the offer proves genuine, I’d like you to purchase it for the library’s collection.”

Although he was curious as to what the object might be, Anton didn’t ask. Reticence was a trait valued by the Order, and the young priest had long molded his character to gain approval from his superiors. He remained silent as he held out his hand.

Cashel made as if to give him the bag. His hand froze. “You must speak of this to no one.”

“Of course not.” The weight of the bag hit Anton’s palm. Gold. He would be required to make an accounting of the coins upon his return. He counted them out now while the elder priest watched. He raised his eyebrows.

“You’re authorized to negotiate the price of the sale. However, I prefer you pay all the gold in that bag than let the artifact be sold to another buyer.”

Anton’s subtle smile was genuine. To be trusted with such a mission assured his continued rise in the Order’s hierarchy. — Koldis, Isolt's Enchantment

Presenting Rebecca Ferguson's Glitter & Gold:

Lyrics:

How good or bad, happy or sad

Does it have to get?

Losing yourself, no cry for help

You don’t think you need it

And old friends are just a chore,

But now you need them more than ever before

All that glitter and all that gold

Won’t buy you happy

When you’ve been bought and sold

Riding white horses, you can’t control

With all your glitter

And all of your gold

Take care of your soul

Take care of your soul

How high, how low, how on your own

Are you gonna get?

Because

Losing your soul, will cost you more

Than the life you’re paying for

And all those friends you left behind

You might need ’em when it’s cold outside

All that glitter and all that gold

Won’t buy you happy

When you’ve been bought and sold

Riding white horses, you can’t control

With all your glitter

And all of your gold

Take care of your soul

One day you’re gonna wake up and find that

New dream is losing its shine and

Nobody is by your side

When the rain comes down and you’re losing your mind

So, who you gonna run to?

Where you gonna hide?

Glitter and gold

Won’t keep you warm

On those lonely nights

And all those friends that were such a chore

You’re gonna need them more than ever before

All that glitter and all that gold

Won’t buy you happy

When you’ve been bought and sold

Riding white horses, you can’t control

With all your glitter

And all of your gold

Take care of your soul

With all of your gold

Take care of your soul

Take care of your soul

Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.

Ebook

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Apple | Barnes & Noble | Google Play | kobo

Paperback

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The Meaning of Celeste is "Heavenly"

The Delphinus choir sang as they always did at twilight. Their mysterious harmony filled the birth room with spiritual hope and yearning. Celeste’s spirit soared. She envisioned her soul climbing the peak of Mount Azyllai. The pain that made her delivery so difficult melted away. The gods would bless her son.

Rays of eternal light parted the threatening wall of shadows. Celeste thought of the fine reed basket, pale downy blanket, and luminous seashell rattle nestled therein. In her mind’s eye, her newborn son gripped the kingly noisemaker and beamed. — Excerpt from The Stargazer, Isolt's Enchantment 

If quantum reality is reality, then our experiences are rooted in a vast interconnected invisible world, and the love of a mother for her child transcends life and death.

Loreena Mckennit's The Old Ways is the perfect song to capture this bittersweet birth of a child in the land of Idonne.

Lyrics:

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you

On a dark new year's night
On the west coast of Clare
I heard your voice singing
Your eyes danced the song
Your hands played the tune
T'was a vision before me

We left the music behind as the dance carried on
As we stole away to the seashore
We smelt the brine, felt the wind in our hair
And with sadness you paused

Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go
Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time
And I wondered why

As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea
A vision came o'er me
Of thundering hooves and beating wings
In clouds above

As you turned to go I heard you call my name
You were like a bird in a cage spreading its wings to fly
"The old ways are lost," you sang as you flew
And I wondered why

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you

Isolt of the Waters is an ancient water elemental whose betrayal and enchantment has forever changed the Whole. When a young scholar in Idonne discovers her story, along with tales of dwarf magic and the birth of Umbra—a malevolent entity dwelling in the Void—he dreams of a life filled with adventure and heroism.

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