16 Frogmore Hollow

The world started to become clear again and I was grateful that we both landed on our own two feet this last "journey" if that's what it could be called. I don't know what is real right now but I do like the transportation system here, it was much better than flying or riding a train. I looked around me as the world, and my head finally stopped spinning. We appeared to be in a cozy living room, complete with a roaring fire-- its heat soothing a bone-deep chill I hadn't even noticed. Sergei looked around the room approvingly and smiled, with his relief palpable, I allowed myself to take a breath as well. The room was somehow reassuring and a bit of a respite from the day I'd been having so far.

"Is this your home?" I asked him genuinely curious.

"Actually it's my aunt's--she's Irish, and the reason I'm visiting right now. She calls it Frogmore Hollow," he replied. "It's always been a special place to me-- I spent many summers here in my youth and I still come to visit my aunt and check in on her--she's off at her ladies' group right now, and she'll be gone all day so we'll have the privacy to talk now."

"Ok, so I'm still confused. You're really telling me I'm not a human but some kind of hybrid human-banshee-magical goddess queen?" I laughed and shook my head at the utter absurdity of what I'd just said.

"I should have recognized you the second you appeared in a heap at my feet in the market-- you look identical to your mother--to Danu," he said, looking a bit like he was going to cry for a moment. He shrugged off his misting eyes and smiled. though I could tell he was moved. "I brought you here for privacy but also, my aunt has a book--a grimoire that contains the story of your mother, and what is known about you. I want to show you."

With that, he left me alone in the living room--presumably off to get this book to show me. I looked around the quaint room and noted the floral wallpaper and knick-knacks and thought it was pretty funny that I'd initially thought it was his place--the room was clearly that of an older lady. As I took in my surroundings, a painting caught my eye. The painting was uncannily like my vision from two days ago. I immediately recognized the woman as Danu, apparently my mother, and also apparently a goddess. As I gazed at the eyes of the lovely portrait, I nearly jumped when the Danu in the painting winked at me, causing me to gasp aloud.

"Oh, I see you recognized the painting, yes, that is your mother--truly the most beautiful Clurichan that Ireland has ever know--" he stopped as I interrupted, "She *winked* at me," I half-shouted with a gasping breath.

"Ahh yes, I suppose the paintings you know normally are not so enchanted," he replied. "Every painting of a person in our world is painted not just with paint but imbued with emotion. Your mother was fond of jokes, and that aspect of her character was painted into the picture," he finished explaining.

With that, he handed me a heavy, beautifully-bound and seemingly ancient tome. It looked much like an encyclopedia but on the front, it was inscribed simply with the number 12, embossed in raised old-fashioned lettering.

"Twelve?" I asked as I began to open the cover, and looked to Sergei seeking his insight.

"Yes, your mother was the 12th Danu, protector, and leader of the magical realm of Ireland," he explained. "And this book will explain a little better who exactly you are and what actually happened to your parents better than I can."

I sat on the floor and leaned up against the wall, right next to the blazing fire and fingered through the heavy book curiously. "Thank you," was all that I could say as I found a photograph of my mother as I became overpowered by every emotion imaginable.

"This book contains not only information but it has also been imbued with some specific memories that your mother had saved from her own mind. Literally, imbued." he related to me as I was awash in a flurry of feelings and memories that were familiar and foreign all at once.

With each page I turned, I became more entranced by the words and feelings of my mother and I lost myself in the leaves of paper, and life, inside the leather binding.