The Druid of the Morrigu

Nestled on the western edge of Massachusetts, the Taconic Mountains were popular for their picturesque landscapes and varied state parks. Mount Greylock was the highest point in the state and boasted many worn and active trails for tourists and natives alike. But no matter how many people visited the mountain, only a few knew of its secrets. Every year, thousands of intrepid hikers, like the trio that just passed, would venture within mere feet of the sacred grove without even the slightest chance of discovering it. Such was the power of its protective enchantments—the sanctuary was blessed by the magic of the Fae.

He pushed past the last tree and paused at the edge of the hallowed place, patiently waiting for the silent permission of the nature spirits dwelling within to enter. The quiet of the grove was deafening in contrast to the sounds of the wilderness that filled the range. Ancient circular stone constructs lined its boundaries—lios, his people called them, or fairy forts. As ancient as Mount Greylock itself, the lios housed the spirits of the Fae, the protectors of the space between the Earth Realm and the Otherworld.

For a while, humanity had left wizards and witches behind as mere characters in folktales from the dark ages—but the Awakened had not. They knew the secrets; they knew of magic and of planes of existence beyond humanity’s own. And although they numbered so few, scattered among the throngs of humanity, they could always find places such as Mount Greylock’s grove.

But Arrivan was not just Awakened. He was also a member of the Druid Order. An acolyte, to be precise. While many of the Awakened thought themselves blessed, or even cursed, for their innate abilities, Druids were the keepers of the truth. The Grand Secret. They knew that the Awakened were neither blessed nor cursed. They were the survivors.