Chapter 3
The Daughter of Lir
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The library at Trinity College held manuscripts that few eyes had seen in centuries. Aisling had called in every favor she possessed to gain access to the restricted collection—texts deemed too fragile, too controversial, or simply too strange for public viewing.
It was in a water-damaged codex from the ninth century that she found the first confirmation.
"Finnoola, eldest daughter of Lir, who was cursed to swim the waters of Éire for nine hundred years, did not perish as the common tales suggest. When the bells of the new faith rang across the land, she did not age to dust and die. She descended instead—down through the lake, through stone and root and forgotten time, to the place where the old gods sleep."
Aisling's hands shook as she photographed the page.
The myth she'd learned as a child had been wrong. Finnoola hadn't died.
She had waited.
The old gods do not die. They merely dream.