Children Of Myths, Act One: Scotland

Let the games begin!

In the strait that separated Ireland and Scotland, there was a small island known as the Isle of Man. It was said to be the home of the legendary Manannan MacLìr, the Celtic god of the ocean, one of the many Sovereigns of the Fairy people. Yet, in fifteen years, no pilgrim dared to set foot there as in the past, people had fled violent storms and winds that made it impossible to live there.
The waves had become impossible to cross even for vessels, fishing boats either disappeared swallowed up by the waters or, according to some, something dragged them under.
The English Crown and the Anglican Church had by then given up investigating due to the losses that had occurred among soldiers and exorcists, by now they only prayed to stop those insidious currents.

In reality, that little island had become a perfect strategic base for operating between Ireland, Scotland and England. A hidden port near an intricate system of underground tunnels and halls where about a hundred people in black robes with black and white crests sewn on them lived.

The only closed room was completely covered in black ice, in which a hooded figure holding a long, thick staff, with a black crystal tied to the top, was carefully scanning the wall.
They touched the wall with the bottom of the staff and their fingers: visions of devastated villages, frozen corpses, weapons and anything that could be useful piled up on carts appeared on it.

"My Lady..."

A hooded man peeked out from the door and entered with a nod of his head in respect.

"I thought I was clear" The person with the staff turned: it was a woman of about forty years old, with a metal mask that covered most of her face, except her lips.

"When I meditate or cast a spell, I do not want to be disturbed."

"I am sorry, Milady. I would not have done it unless it was necessary."

He swallowed and pressed his lips together.

"Well?" she pressed.

"We have been informed that one of the towns was not conquered, and most of our soldiers were killed."

The woman's lips parted with an almost imperceptible gasp of surprise.

"How did it happen?"

"They said there was an unnatural storm, that our magic was neutralized by something even more powerful."

Her expression of surprise shifted into a grimace of discomfort and silence fell for a good minute. At least until she asked where it had happened.

"Fìor Tobar Beinne, in the Aberdeen countryside"

She turned and continued to scroll through the images on the black surface until everything went black. She tried again, several times, before taking her chin between thumb and forefinger.

"I don't see anything. There's not even a splinter left" She turned back to the other "Do you have any other information?"

"I can hardly believe it, but, according to our Brothers, the responsible is merely a lass"

The hooded woman raised an eyebrow from under her mask and arched one corner of her mouth upwards.

A lass? For real?

There was no power that could counteract her actions, especially not from a human who had learned magic.

"Tell them to get less drunk and not get riddled with bullets." She turned to check the wall again and muttered under his breath "Imbeciles."

"My lady, I'm not finished. That girl looks like she has hairy wings and antennae, red hair, green eyes..."

She froze and turned back to face him once again. It wasn't necessary for her to unmask herself to understand how much those words weighed and how much terror was growing inside her.