Grá Geal Mo Chroí

 (Shining or Bright Love of my heart)

Their tiny home was on fire, and they couldn't get out.

Panicked, a woman inside watched as her husband fell, crumbling at the door as he strained to open it. He made no sound at first, but she grasped her little boy and covered his ears as she crawled under the thick smoke into the farthest corner yet untouched by the crackling blaze.

The little one was trembling, afraid and rightly so, yet she couldn't stop to soothe him. She tore at the wall, digging clods of earth out with her bare hands while sheltering him with her body. Whimpering in fear, he clutched her dress and tried not to cry. His da would be proud of him later if he hadn't cried - he was sure of it -- and he held onto that tenuous thought as his mother broke her nails and reduced her fingers to bloody stumps carving and ripping a hole big enough to fit him through.

When it was big enough she paused to take a necklace she always wore off and press it firmly into his hand.

"Mother?" He raised his hands towards her shadowy figure, but there was a sudden, tearing pain in his lower back. He gasped and fell backwards, shrill screams echoing all around him. The glow of the fire reflected red in his mother's eyes as she pushed him to safety through the hole. He emerged with scrapes and a dull hurt in his back, but made it from the fiery blaze into the safe, morning light of a new day.

The first day he'd live without his parents.

Without anyone.

<i>The light -

The light was -

The light was bright, and his mother was screaming as she was burned alive</i>...

"<i>No</i>!"

It was dark but not pitch black in the house.

A middle-aged aged man sat up quickly in bed, heart pounding as the remnants of the dream faded. His face was scarred, a jagged half moon under one eye that his long, dark hair mostly covered since he let it hang down, unkempt. He ran a hand over the scraggly stubble on his cheeks and chin, swallowing hard. Normally he would breathe deeply for a few minutes, calming himself before going back to sleep. On this night, however, he could still hear loud, plaintive cries, carried in on the air in through his windows. The hair rose on the back of his neck as he identified a woman's voice.

The man threw his legs over and got up, rubbing absently at his lower back, a phantom pain remembered from so long ago. He grunted and grabbed his shirt hanging at the foot of the bed before walking out the door. The small cottage was built on a crag overlooking the sea so the moonlight reflected off the water, casting a luminous glow over the beach. There was far better light here than in the town at night. 

Squinting, he cast his gaze around the sand, looking for anything that might be making the haunting sounds.

"Who's there?" The wailing stopped immediately, a wary silence following his question. He grunted sourly and called out louder. "I'm not dangerous. Do you need help?" He scrambled down a rough path to the shore and as his feet touched the beach he froze, stunned, at who was shivering at the foot of the crag.

It was a naked lady.

Her pale skin appeared to glow like the pebbles and shells at her feet. She was shuddering with cold, her only cover her hair, which was useless for warmth as it was cropped short at her neck and feathered along the sides. The woman's eyes were huge, the pupils dark and clearly watery with tears in her fright. She drew her arms over her breasts and knelt, covering her nudity as best she could while watching him closely.

He threw a hand up over his eyes. "How did you - nevermind." He drew his rough shirt over his head and tossed it in her direction. "Take that. It should cover you."

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment but reached out and snatched the shirt, pulling it quickly on. Once dressed she nodded a silent thank you to him.

"Do you need help besides clothing?" He rubbed his arms as the brisk sea breeze whipped his uncovered skin. <i>I wonder how long she was sitting here,</i> he thought. <i>I'm freezing, and it's only been a few minutes.</i>

The woman looked around helplessly and her lower lip began to tremble. She raised her hands in a gesture he took to mean she didn't know what to do.

"Can you speak?" His gray eyes narrowed. There were many <i>sìthiche</i> - fairy creatures -- that lived near the shore or in the waters of the sea itself, and he needed to be careful. "My name is Aizawa. What's yours?" Harmful beings generally didn't like sharing their names as the knowledge gave the human some power over them. If she didn't offer one, he might have to give her a wider berth even if he'd like to help further.

But the woman surprisingly spoke upon being asked. "Eibhlin," she said in a soft voice. "My name is Elly."

<i>The light.</i>

"I suppose that's a sign," he sighed wearily. "If you like, you can stay the night with me. I can sleep by the fire and we'll work your problems through on the morn."

"Thank you," she said quietly.