Brighid sighed, squinting up at the forms of her daughter and husband. "I look forward to your return."

"And I look forward to returning, my beautiful Huntress."

Brighid smiled lovingly at him.

Rosaine leaned over the side of the carriage, grasping her mother's hand with her left; the band of diamonds sparkling radiantly under the early morning sun. "Goodbye, Mother."

"Goodbye, Epona's Beloved." Her smile took in both of them as she added, "Safe travels."

Cuchulainn winked at her and waited for Rosaine to withdraw her arm back into the carriage; then urged the horses into a canter. Brighid waved them off, as she felt a preternatural tickle at the back of her mind. Suddenly a golden flash in her peripheral vision made her look up at the sunny skies. Her animal ally dipped a gilded wing and swooped down to land on a nearby branch.

Another soul has shattered. Your presence is required in the north!

"Then let's go," Brighid said simply. The hawk lifted up into the air and Brighid followed her.

Cuchulainn and Rosaine arrived back at Epona's Temple later the same day. He could see her nervousness and felt compelled to ask, "Want me to come in with you?"

"No. You have a long ride. And I have Epona." She jumped a little as butterflies manifested out of thin air at the mere mention of the Goddess, then burst into glitter. Wherever the glitter fell, flowers immediately blossomed.

Cuchulainn smiled, his eyes filling with tears. "So I can see."

Rosaine returned his grin without thinking. Epona had been quiet again, and the indication of Her listening presence filled the soul of Her Beloved. Suddenly it was not so much another duty that Rosaine had to do, but a gift she had been given. The Fomorian war was over, and there was always a centaur High Shaman fashioned to love Epona's High Priestess. She had wanted to become a mother, and she would. Her life would involve work like any other, but her prayers had been answered.

Following Cuchulainn's departure came the task of announcing the purpose of her return to her grandfather; but as she walked down the carpet and tried to project an air of confidence, Rosaine suddenly found herself wondering if Epona had been reconsidering Her choice. She had been quiet. Especially considering that Rosaine had been chosen to specifically hear Her voice. Etain's relationship with the Goddess had been special; they were never without each other. She didn't want to declare herself Epona's High Priestess, only to face the necessity of revoking her word. Oh, if only Etain was there to enlighten her!

"Rosaine?" Midhir's booming voice made her realize she was standing on the carpet, staring up at him from a distance. "Are you with me?"

She hastily resumed her approach and dipped into a habitual curtsy. "I apologize."

"Why have you returned already?"

She timidly looked up at him. "Epona has called me Beloved," she said, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. "But since then She has been silent, and I'm wondering if She renounced Her favor."

"She does not renounce Her favor."

"Did She not take back one of my father's gifts?"

"Yes…but that is different. Your father was not a High Priestess."

Rosaine's lips twitched as Midhir surged to all fours.

"The ways of the Goddess are complicated and She has much to do. She is probably distracted."

"Yeah, and I think I know why," Rosaine muttered. "Is Lochlan still here?"

"No, he left some time ago. He has probably arrived at MacCallan Castle by now."

"Good," Rosaine sighed. "My father is on his way there to speak with him, because…" She paused and bit her bottom lip. "Because Kaina has found her way to another world."

"What?" Midhir boomed, and thundered down the steps. "Are you certain?"

"Epona showed me with the Magic Sleep." Rosaine put her hands on her hips. "Do you suppose that is why Epona has been so quiet?"

"Yes, it is very likely," Midhir murmured.

"She told me She cannot help Kaina come back to Partholon."

His attention refocused on her. "No. No, Epona does not interfere with our choices."

The door opened far behind Rosaine, and she turned as Midhir raised his eyes. An unfamiliar centaur was walking down the carpet. He looked as though he had weapons strapped to his equine body. They twinkled in the daylight that streamed onto him and illuminated his foreign face.

"Please excuse me," Midhir said succinctly, and helped close the distance between him and the Stonemaster while Rosaine looked on in curiosity. "Well met, Danann. I thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Well met, Midhir. So what exactly caused Etain's monument to shatter?"

"Oh, it is…not important." Midhir spared his granddaughter a harried glance. Danann lay a work-roughened hand on Midhir's arm.

"Do not attempt to vilify her death, Shaman."

Midhir took a deep breath. "It was toppled over when a Fomorian—my granddaughter," he added, "Went mad at the ceremony."

Danann withdrew his hand. His eyes shot around the castle. "Is she still here?"

"No. At ease," he said, and the Stonemaster relaxed. But his eyes were haunted still. "What is it, Danann?"

"I wonder about her, Shaman. How is she not a New Fomorian?"

Midhir sighed. "The MacCallan mated with a mad Fomorian. It was prophesied she would drink his blood and inherit the madness. When the MacCallan conceived the Fomorian's child, the madness overcame the unborn baby. And Kaina was born."

"After the Prophecy was fulfilled," Danann grumbled.

"Yes. But not to worry, Stonemaster. Her last act of humanity was to abscond into the Wastelands, and to ask her father to barricade all passes into Partholon."

Danann's eyes flitted from the High Shaman to his beautiful, human granddaughter. "I am pleased she was able to save those dear to her." He turned slightly, affording Rosaine a clear glimpse of his work tools. "Well, Shaman, the day ages. I would like to begin repairing the monument."

"And I would like to see it repaired, Stonemaster. I know you will do a competent job. Please follow me."

Rosaine silently offered a petite wave as they departed. Hearing more hooves behind her, she turned to look at one of the centaurs she recognized from the funerals. He stopped and examined her. "I thought you left a long time ago," was the greeting he extended to Epona's Beloved.

She found herself craving respect. Not the secondhand kind she received because her family included two High Shamans. Not the simple adoration she received from people who admired her beauty. She wanted respect because she was Chosen of the Goddess. Rosaine stepped closer to the strapping young centaur. "Yes, well, it would appear I am heir to this place."

He quickly checked himself. "Then may I welcome you home, my Lady?"

Rosaine swept her sun-colored curls over a shoulder, exposing the collection of arrows sticking out of her leather bag; and ran a hand down the strap. "You may tell me where the targets are."

The centaur cleared his throat, intimidated by her influence. "Allow me to show you, my Lady."

"I believe myself capable of following directions," she said indignantly.

"It can be quite confusing the first time around, my Lady; and it would be an honor to escort you." He offered his arm.

Normally, such formal decency would have gone unnoticed; Rosaine still would have considered engaging in acts of intimacy with such an attractive creature. But this time his courtesy only came as a nuisance. His offer to touch her was not the same as requesting permission to touch her. Even human men treated her like more than a plaything. So she crossed her arms and lifted a golden brow. Realizing he had overstepped an invisible boundary, he withdrew his hand and timidly bowed his head.

"Right this way, my Lady."

She dropped her arms and huffily followed him from the grand hall. The walk was long and most of it was spent ambling down a hallway lit with gilded skulls. Finally the centaur began to orient his body towards a large door; and Rosaine slowed, letting him get just a ways ahead of her. He stopped and looked back, then realized what was expected of him, and pushed the doors open. He stepped aside and bowed his head as she walked through.

Rosaine passed by him and sauntered outside, feeling a shiver of excitement at the respect she had so easily instilled in him. She listened to him close the doors before breathing a sigh of relief. Finally, alone at last. She let her body and face relax as she took in her surroundings.

Walking away from the castle walls, she looked behind her and deduced that she was at the side of the temple. Several targets had been lined up; they looked new. Well, Rosaine would change that in no time. She put her bag on the ground, took out her bow, loaded it with an arrow and raised her weapon. Her hair blew in the breeze; her diamonds glittered in the sunlight. She could feel a power she had yet to taste, but her reservations about Epona's judgment had been resolved. The mere mention of her Goddess' name had caused butterflies to explode into glitter. Rosaine had not done anything to displease Epona. No, the Goddess would not change Her mind.

Rosaine barely took the time to aim her bow. Archery was one of the many skills she had dedicated her life to practicing; and it was as though her slight interlude had never happened. Her experienced rhythm was unstoppable. Her movements blurred as she fired the arrow into the heart of the target.

As usual, she tried not to think too much while she practiced. Archery had not appealed to her for the purpose of defense. She had taken up the craft as a way to cool off. She had always been alone, and that angered her. Aunt Niam had exhausted herself to death, Uncle Bregon had died of a shattered soul, her mother was always helping those who wanted to be helped, Cuchulainn was typically by her side, and of course, growing up in the Centaur Plains had been a lonely childhood indeed. Every time she started to feel ignored, rejected or insulted, she would practice her skills; and the satisfaction of hitting a bullseye always made her feel better. Would she still be able to fire arrows as a High Priestess? Or would it be beneath her? And if it was beneath her, how would she let off steam then?

Rosaine sighed, notching her third arrow. She wished someone could be there now, watching her practice and giving sage advice. Etain had been rumored to know everything. How had that come about?

And her Aunt Niam. They would have related so strongly to each other. Rosaine was trying to prove she was more than a pretty face; and her Aunt Niam had tried to prove that was all she was. They were the only ones living a lie. The only difference was, Rosaine's lie was unsaid by herself.

She would prove herself. Someday, she promised herself. And she moved on to the next target.