Spooky Season Storytelling

The Arianrhod Treasure

A mantle of feminine power

For hours now, she’d flitted through the freezing forest, evading the thieving blighters. All Grannie had told her was to follow the call and that “It will come to you with the gloaming,” she’d said.

Euphemia had laid low in the cold damp of the deep forest since late morning. The voice came as the old woman had promised, at dusk… a haunting murmur on the wind merging with the night chorus… calling… leading deeper into the woods. The woods seemed to be denser and deeper than she knew them in daylight.

She’d grown up roaming these woods with Grannie and mum. But, the deeper the voice led her, the more unreal the forest became. And yet… there was a knowing in the depths of her soul of every leaf and stone. Eóghann would probably say it was “quantum.”

The voice led her along a path appearing as she stepped. The path circled upward through the high forest, toward the peak of the craig. As she ascended, the trek became labored and she puffed mini-clouds with every breath in the cold air.

Why didn’t you just give up the treasure, old woman? she mused. But, no… you’re determined the Arianrhod Treasure must pass to me. Euphemia didn’t want the treasure. It’s just tat… a couple of blackened old Celtic artifacts only a museum would want, she fumed as she continued following the where the voice led, running lightly between the trees. She ran for hours more through the…