Prologue

      For the first time in more than twenty years, the moon broke free of its usual twelve-month rotation and spun into an additional cycle around the earth. This unusual event caused an extra full moon to appear in the calendar, and it happened to fall upon the eve of the Calan Mai festival (May 1).

      Large and luminous, the moon lingered above the inky black waters that formed the Irish Sea. Pale-white light exposed a tiny village hidden within the nook of a semi-circular lagoon.

      Behind the village, tall and craggy cliffs formed a steep wall that protected the town from extreme weather. A row of thatched-roof wooden houses followed the contours of the lagoon, forming a crescent that pointed out toward the pebbled shores of the large island, just off the coast of Northern Wales. On this night, no one remained in the village below. Young and old, they all climbed up the gentler southern slope of the precipice to the sacred space above.

      Grassy hills lined the cliff tops, creating a buffer between the thick, boggy forest and the wide and shallow sea. These hills softened the blow of the harsh storms that often battered the countryside.

      On a mound, near the cliff’s edge, the group of villagers braided their bodies into a circle among the wildflowers. The strangeness of this special night extended throughout the sky. Above them, all the stars and planets aligned into a rare configuration of geometric shapes, comprising billions of perfect right angles throughout the universe.

      Calan Mai was one of two magical nights that opposed each other in the Celtic calendar. On these nights, the barrier between the worlds grew thin enough for gods and people to pass between them. The first night, Calen Gaev, welcomed the dead. A time to celebrate ancestry, it marked the end of the harvest and brought an ominous sense of foreboding for the coming winter. Calen Mai, on the other hand, brought warmth and playfulness into the air as it greeted the coming spring.

      At the northern edge of the circle, an old man and woman stood with their arms outstretched before a long, flat stone. On first glance, the stone looked to be a singular anomaly within the shape of the hill. In fact, the horizontal slab sat like a table on top of two vertical, enormous boulders that just barely emerged from the ground. Underneath these rocks lay a cavernous chamber that housed a sacred burial ground.

      A nearby drummer pounded out a slow and primal rhythm while the villagers danced around the growing bonfire. Engrossed in their ritual, the old man and the woman began a chant. Using poetic guile, the two druids—priests trained in the most ancient arts of worship—enticed the gods to join them:

      “By the flame that burneth bright, Oh horned one

      We call thy name on the winds of night, Oh Ancient one . . .”

      Among the villagers, a golden-haired young woman locked her arms and intertwined her body with the others in a slow, rhythmic dance. Sweat beaded lightly upon her young skin as their pace quickened in a swift and fluid progression.

“. . . Thee we invoke by moonlit sea,

By standing stone and twisted tree . . .”

      Her bare feet squished in the wet soil. The grass tickled her ankles. Warm breeze blew in from the sea. She felt the earth humming below. Energy flowed through her. All around her, warm bodies flashed in a river of movement.

 “. . . By moonlit meadow, on dusky hill,

When the haunted wood is hushed and still . . .”

      The sweet smell of salty sea air, wood smoke, and strange incense mingled in her mind, heightening the pounding that the ceremonial drums awoke in her blood. It released all of her mundane thoughts.

 “. . . Come to the charm of the chanted prayer,

As the moon bewitches the midnight air . . .”

      The ritual flooded her senses. Moonbeams wrapped themselves around her like a glistening gown, bathing the woman in pale-white light. As the dance quickened and the drums seemed to drown out all other sounds, her consciousness shifted as though she shared her body with a more powerful, beautiful force.

 “. . . And by the fern breaks fairy haunted,

 Of forest wild and wood enchanted . . .”

      Through the flames, the golden-haired woman caught a glimpse of a man, strong, stout, and covered in a mask of leaves. Short shadows shifted across his chiseled body as he moved around the fire. His green, glowing eyes locked on to her, tracking and burning through her.

 “. . . Come to us, who gather below,

As the broad, white moon is climbing slow . . .”

      He looks unearthly and wild. The notion slipped in and out of her mind before she completely surrendered her thoughts to the magic of the evening.

 “. . . As a black tree’s branches shake and sigh,

By joy and terror we know thee nigh . . .”

      The night surrounded them with a warm, lustful air that brought the promise of summer. As the druids wove their poetry into a gateway between the worlds, the woman could no longer tell where earth ended and magic began.

 “. . . By words of virtue, the veil to rend

From primal dawn to the world’s wide end

Since time began, the blessings of Bran.”

      At the end of the ritual, the villagers fell to the ground. Everyone frolicked around a singular birch tree in the center of the field. They tied numerous red, green, blue, and yellow ribbons to the top of the thin, white trunk. The young and innocent wove the ribbons around the tree in a new and playful dance.

      Two men played the pipes while another strung the harp. The drummer beat a faster rhythm while the elders sang. People laughed, drank, and feasted on a wild boar roasting upon a spit that men turned above the bonfire. Then the Druids told stories of ancient gods.

      “On Calen Mai we celebrate the marriage between the sun god, Llew, and the flower goddess, Blodwedd,” the priest explained.

      The reveling villagers raised their glasses and cheered, “Blessings to the gods!”

      Many young couples wandered off into the woods to celebrate the coming of May through the rite of a perfect union. The golden-haired woman danced her way into a nearby grove of birch trees. The masked man eyed her. He stalked her like a fox eyeing a jackrabbit through the woods. Aware of his presence, she draped her yellow, linen scarf along the white birch branches and danced for her unseen follower. Slowly, she swayed her hips in circles. She wove her arms above her head, forming delicate patterns that mimicked the harp music playing off in the distance.

      His eyes followed the contours of her neck, the small of her back, and the curves of her hips as they moved. He wanted her . . . needed her. . . . When he could bear it no longer, the masked man jumped through the trees. Seizing the woman by the waist, he turned her around and drank in her lips.

The smell of the sweat beading on her skin sent the masked man into a fury. He pulled her long hair back, exposing her soft and elegant neck. With the hunger of a wild beast, he bit into it, drawing the tiniest speck of blood.

“Oh!” she sighed. Feeling the warmth of his body against her own hot flesh, she thought to herself, it feels so good!

      He untied her dress, allowing the thin, white fabric to fall to the ground, and then he pushed her against a tree.

      Aware of his every move, the woman succumbed to his will. She arched her back under the heat of his intense gaze, pushing her torso toward him so that he could examine her naked body. She wrapped her legs around his waist and returned his kisses.

      They fell to the ground, under a blanket of trees and stars. They wound themselves together, moving as one with the beat of the drums and the heat of the fire. Leaves stuck to their sweaty bodies as they rolled in the soil.

      Strands of silver and amber light braided together and sparked about them. All at once, they felt a crescendo of energy rise up from within. Their very souls intertwined as they reached as state of ecstasy. They cried out, feeling their bliss roll like waves upon the ocean. The pair fell gently together into each other’s arms.

      At that moment, the golden-haired woman knew she had conceived a child.