Episode 07. The Shattering and the Silence

“The Trees cried first.”

🌿Seanchaí Intro:
Come close, for tonight the winds shift.
Even memory, sacred as it is,
passes through the veil of forgetting again.

Listen now, to the falling of the great song.

🌿🔥🌈

The Druids held the song for as long as they could.
But the world was changing.
A new tide began to rise,
one of iron,
of fire,
of forgetting.

It didn’t come all at once.
First, it came in whispers,
a turning of heads toward conquest,
a lust not for rhythm,
but for rule.

Then it came in ships.
And in the name of empire,
the memory keepers were hunted.

The Trees cried first.
The Oaks, our elders,
fell not to age,
but to axes with no reverence.
And with them fell the bridges
between Earth and Sky.

In Carrowkeel, the hum dimmed.
In Uisneach, the fire shrank but did not go out.
And the spiral turned inward, coiling in stillness.

The Cauldron cracked.
The sacred silence grew quiet.
And the Children of the Mirror,
they scattered again.

But this time not with joy.
With grief.

The Builders had known this fall before…

Where the seed of the land withered in the ground,

 And the wells of mother earth ran dry.
They, too, once fell silent,
not in defeat,
but to protect the memory coded in quartz and alignment.

Millions fled,
from fear,
from starvation,
from tyranny.

And still... something remained.

They say you can’t kill a story once it’s told.
And they told it well,
by stone and firelight,
heartbeat and drum,
dream and DNA.

Even in the scattering,
the mirror continued to catch light.
And those fragments,
they hid in the caves of poets,
the minds of madmen,
the wild hearts of wanderers.

The winds of Ulster whispered warnings

The waters of Leinster wept.

The earth of Munster held its breath

The fire in Connacht flickered. 

And now, after all this time,
after the Gaels fell,
sacred sites renamed,
old ways buried beneath new tongues and creeds,
forgotten dreams lingering in the soil,
we sent men to walk the moon,
but forgot how to feed the soul.

Now,
we begin to remember the light again.

🌿Seanchaí Closing:

Even shattered mirrors still catch the sun.
Even silenced songs still hum beneath the soil.
Even forgotten dreams find their way home.

Cé gur briseadh an chroí, níor briseadh an cuimhne.”

(Though the heart was broken, the memory was not.)

Walk gently now, flame bearer.
The remembering has begun.

🌿🔥🌈