So long kept in darkness, it becomes hard to tell if I am waking or dreaming. Faces of my loved ones loom out of the black. Fenian's eyes crinkled at the edges by a smile. A fleeting flash of my father's flowing white hair and beard, framing a worried frown. Fraoch's heavy-lidded gaze lingers, so vivid that my muffled mouth cries out to him before he, too, dissolves. Even old Enna peeks at me with a mocking wink. And Dobhar pays a brief visit from the world beyond, parading before me as I remember him best, proudly astride his magnificent red horse. He grins, beckons, and rides away into nothingness.

Am I dead? Or soon to be gone from this world? I float in the air, neither here nor there, suspended in nowhere, lost in space and time.

Their voices bring me back to where I am. My ears seem to have grown powerfully sensitive. Or else they have decided, for whatever reason, that it is no longer necessary to speak in whispers. I listen intently. What I hear chills me to my core.

"What is taking the druid so long? We can't risk hiding here much longer."

"We'll meet him at the border then. It will have to be done on the border anyway."

An irreverent snort of laughter. "Then we'll miss a good fight. Can't we get them to chase us down to the dun, and then -"

Sudden silence. Footsteps approaching. A cough.

"Morann! We greet you. And our noble hostage would greet you too, if she could."

Another round of laughter. My black and hooded world turns yet a darker pitch of gloom. I am doomed.