What Lies Unseen

Almost ten years to the day after she had fetched two young babes from the arms of a reluctant mother, Mófwyn stands, unseen, to one side of a clearing which wrapped itself around the front of a small cabin, tucked away deep within the protective trees of the Murmuring Forest. A short way from her grasp is the smaller twin, the one whom she had named Ata, “bird” in the Old Tongue and, just beyond her giggling form, is a taller figure—the elder twin, whose name meant “song”—Cyra. She released a soft sigh as she watched them. They are young yet and their skills are unrefined but she has faith in the woman who sits watching them... the woman named Morgaine.

Nafwyn silently appears beside her sister, only a slight breeze heralding her arrival. “They have grown well,” she offers to Mófwyn. “Morgaine is doing a good job raising them, teaching them... it is unfortunate that their playful days will soon end, heralding the arrival of their destiny...” a low sigh is emitted from the brunette.

The darker-haired sister nods in agreement. “They do grow well... The sparks of magic Her Lady Soebín spotted in them in those first days has grown a great deal as well.” She does not add that they will soon have to learn to harness that magic for use in the battle that lies, inevitably, in their future.

And Mófwyn has no need to say those words, as Nafwyn is all too aware of the truth of the twins’ future. “They are growing fast, maturing, they'll be wise when it is time,” she states, a sad look on her face.

One can only hope and that is exactly what Mófwyn does. “May the greatest of our kind bless them in their task,” and although the three cannot hear them speak, her voice drifts off as listens closely to what the younger begins to prattle on about as she bounds over to the woman caring for them.

“We'll be great mages someday, won't we, Auntie Morgaine? Like the heros from your stories? The ones who cherish the Old Ways? And maybe we'll even meet The Fiddler?” Ata is smiling merrily as she plops down at the foot of her the lady's chair.

Cyra follows her smaller sister and quickly settles down at the other side of Morgaine. “We'll be great warriors, right Auntie Morgaine?” she questions, happily as her she splays out on the ground, cherishing the outdoors.

The woman chuckles lovingly at the two young girls. “Yes, my dears. You will be great mage warriors if that is what you wish most to be and the greatest of our deities with cherish and bless you for honoring them.” She shifts, reaching a hand out to stroke each of them on the forehead, wondering when the day would come that should could tell them everything and not just through bits and pieces of stories.

Nafwyn smiles a little, watching the manner in which Morgaine dotes over the children. “It is good, that she was chosen,” is given. “She does love those girls, like a mother would,” she nods.

Cyra chuckles. “Good, I want to be a great warrior!” a laugh echo's through the area. “I will protect the Old Ways,” she is firm in her beliefs.

“Like a proper mother should.” Mófwyn responds. “I doubt that their natural borne mother could have cherished them half as much. It is the price you pay when you have little to put your faith in.” She turns back to the two girls, beaming approval.

Ata crawls to the side a little, reaching back behind Morgaine's chair and latches on to the body of a midnight feline, brining him out to rest comfortably in her lap. “I will protect them more, Sister! I will be strong and courageous and compassionate! I will beat back our foes and care for our allies!” She giggles lightly, pumping her fist into the air. “Like the mages of old I will teach myself to be honorable and true.”

Nafwyn nods, though her attention is still drawn by the scene playing out in front their eyes.

Cyra's laughter echoes, again. “Of course you will, Ata,” she states. “We are twins; what I am, you are and what you are, I am,” she states, nodding her head firmly.

“Auntie Morgaine, was there ever a pair of twins who were champions of the old ways?” Ata asks sweetly, stroke the feline with his thundering purr.

Morgaine glows, “None who were quite as special as you two are and none who Codwy, the Fiddler allowed to roam freely about his domain as they grew, my dear child. He must find you both very special indeed to let you play with his creatures of the Murmuring Forest.”

“Is that why we have no visitors—” the young girl begins.

Cyra grins. "I like the Fiddler, he's nice," she states, with a bob of her head. "And I like his creatures, they're lovely," is offered up as she looks over in the general direction of Nafwyn and Mófwyn, though she doesn't see them. Perhaps she feels them?

Ata follows her sister’s gaze, something tugging at the back of her mind, a familiar sense of power that has long been tucked in the back of her mind. “Auntie, do you think people visit us in secret? You know, like they hide so we can’t see them?”

Nafwyn quirks a brow, before turning to her sister. “Do you think they sense us?” she questions of Mófwyn. Her eyes continue to watch the twins, who are, in a way, watching them.

Mófwyn tilts her head in the direction of the young girls, stepping to one side and moving to circle around them, curious as to whether or not their gaze will follow. “I would not set aside the possibility. The have, after all, a great deal of magic growing in their veins.”

The guardian of the two girls glances about slowly and then settles back into her seat, wrapping herself in the comforting thought that one, if not more, of the deities she loved so much might be watching over them just then. “I believe it is more than possible, it is probable, Ata-dear. The Ladies and Lords we follow and obey may not be perfect—just as we, their children, are not perfect—but they do care about our welfare. Particularly the welfare of those they love best.”

“You think they love us more than others who follow the Old Ways?” Ata questions incredulously.

Morgaine looks down, saddened a bit by the comment. “There are a great deal fewer for them to choose between these days, Ata, so that is quite possible.” After a moment, she adds more cheer to her voice. “After all, you and Cyra are already so dedicated to the path.”

Nafwyn moves the opposite way of her sister, curious, really, if the girls will keep watching them. As it is, Cyra's eyes dart between where both deities are, stopping only when the two have met in the middle. Ata squints her eyes, glaring at the empty space she seems to see where the deities have met. “Auntie… Auntie Morgaine. I think someone is watching us,” she murmurs. After a moment, she announces loudly, “Blessed one, whoever you might be, I love you and honor you and follow you and will one day be a great champion for you and our Old Ways!”

Morgaine laughs, tears welling up in her eyes at the frank honesty and devotion in the small ten-year-old. “I think they know that, Ata, dear. If they are here now, it’s likely that they’ve been here before and seen your devotion. But may they bless you anyway.”

Nafwyn squeaks. “Oh, they're so cute! I wish I could hold them,” she states as she watches the girls.

Meanwhile Cyra's looking where her sister is. “There are two, sister, I think there are two... or more...”

Mófwyn look as though she feels the same as her sister but quickly responds, “Soebín has her reasons for making us swear to keep ourselves cloaked. Codwy can only shield so much from prying eyes. We must suffer in silence to protect the two until the right time comes.”

Ata sniffs the air and stretches out towards the unseen deities, upsetting the cat in her lap who hisses briefly before his nose begins to twitch as well. “Vervain… myrrh and cedar, too, I think. Auntie, I’ve smelled this mixture before, but I can’t quite place where.”

Nafwyn nods. "I know, so we shall remain quiet guardians until they can know us," she gives with a shake of her head, before laughing. "Sounds like you, Sis, vervain, myrrh, and cedar…” she offers with a smile.

Cyra blinks. “A saltwater breeze,” she states, with a sniff at the air. “Sorry, it smells like we're by the ocean, and there's a bit of a breeze,” a shrug of her shoulders.

The cat moves gracefully, stalking over in the direction of the deities and slowly, cautiously, Ata follows. When she hears Cyra’s comment, she begins to shake her head. “You’re wrong—” her words fall off with the twitch of her nose. There is something like the see in the air. It is a scent not quite as strong to her but just as familiar. “Wait… I smell it, too, now.”

Having a vague idea of what this could mean, Morgaine stands, reaching out a hand in the girl’s direction. “Ata,” she hisses softly. “Come back here.”

“Just let me—”

“Leave him be,” the woman orders as Ata begins to reach for the cat. “He’ll come back over here in a moment. He’s just curious.”

As she slumps back over to the woman, Ata mutters softly, “So am I.”

Watching, Mófwyn kneels slowly, quietly, and gives the feline the faintest scratch beneath his chin as he softly purrs out a greeting. “Now go back over there, dear heart, before they get even more suspicious. Those growing girls are not yet ready to deal with what could happen if Ynoch realizes we’re here with them.” The tomcat meows at her in objection as she withdraws her hand. “Oh, no you don’t,” Mófwyn orders. “Fsk… now scat.”

Nafwyn just lets out a little chuckle, which is given life by the faintest rustle of the leaves, as she watches the cat. “Shoo now, kitty dear, go play with your Bird,” is offered before the cat makes his way back.

Cyra, meanwhile, nods. “It smells like the ocean. So, soft and gentle, yet, dangerous at a moments notice,” she murmurs. “Sea, and woods, Earth and water...” a grin is offered.

As the feline plops back down next to her, Ata is quick to forget the strong urge to reach out into the space just beyond the tree line… or forget enough of it to not disobey her keeper. “Auntie Morgaine,” she asks softly, one hand stroking the thick black fur of lovingly, “have you ever come face to face with a deity?”

Pronunciation Guide: Nafwyn: Nahv-win. Mófwyn: Morhv-win. Soebín: Soy-bean. Ynoch: Ee-nahk. Morgaine: More-gain. Codwy: Kaahd-oo-ee. Cyra: Key-rah. Ata: Ahtah.

Notes from the Author(s) : Again, thanks goes out to Artemis who is co-writing this novel and has helped me complete Chapter 1 and turn out a good portion of this chapter tonight. No, we're not quite done with this one just yet but we have enough for you to start enjoying the second chapter. All opinions are welcome. Constructive criticism always much appreciated.