Sometimes When It Rains

by Michele Elaine Wilson © 1999

The Inn was closed for the night. A fierce storm had kept most of the customers away and only the few hearty regulars, that came to Horsefeathers every night for their evening meal, had showed up. Moira had finished cleaning up and was resting with a glass of Irish Cream. She was a petite unicorn-morph and was white with an auburn mane and tail and big brown eyes. Her dress was emerald green and showed off her shapely humanoid figure. The loud knock on the door startled her and jumping up she ran over and opened the door a crack.

"We're closed. Come back, later" she said and then stopped and looked carefully at the cloaked figure. "Sean, what are you doing here? I thought you were --- oh never mind, get in here before you catch your death of cold." She opened the door wide enough to let in the tall figure.

Sean walked over to the fire reaching out for the warmth. He pushed back the hood of his gray cloak, uncovering a head on unruly red hair. He was a tall man, close to seven feet, but tonight he looked shorter. Moira noticed his normally erect back was slumped over.

"Sean are you all right?" Moira asked.

"Just tired, Missy," Sean replied.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"I dinnae remember. I don't think so," he replied wearily.

"Sit down," Moira said, "and let me get you something."

Sean sat down at a table by the fire. He threw his cloak over the back of the chair. His clothes looked like he had been wearing them for several days. He looked exhausted and there were dark circles under his eyes and his hand shook as he tried to sweep the hair out of his eyes.

Moira placed a large bowl of stew in front of him, along with a mug of beer and a loaf of bread. She sat down across from him and silently watched him as he ate. She was very concerned because she had never seen him this tired and shaky.

A flash of lightening lit up the sky and a large clap of thunder followed almost immediately after. The rain pounded on the roof.

"It has been a real bad storm," Moira said. "I'm surprised you were out in it, Sean."

"Well I wanted to get home," Sean replied. "I figured a little rain wouldn't hurt me." He leaned back in the chair and cradled the mug of beer. "Besides rain isn't always what it seems."

Moira recognized the tone of voice, which indicated that he was going into a Bard's story, and sat back to listen.

 

There was this land that was very green and beautiful. There were a lot of rain in this land which is why it was always so green and in fact most of the days it had at least one spot of rain. The land were primarily agricultural and the farmers blessed the daily rains that helped their fields to grow. There was very little of what you would call industry. They were a simple people who grew their crops and raised their livestock. They made what things they needed.

The people were close to the land and they treated it with respect. Their beliefs were a combination of respect for nature, a worship of a higher deity, and a hatred for the deityís demonic counterparts. Most of the people could read and write, at least a little, and some of the most important people were the scribes and clerics who copied down the stories in books and the Bards who told them.

Now into this land came a Bard, who was a wanderer. He never stayed around in one place for very long. The people welcomed him since he had other skills that were very much needed. It seems the village blacksmith, a very important person as you can well imagine in a land that depended on horses for transportation, had managed to break both arms. Well it turned out that this Bard knew about being a smith and was willing to pitch in and give them a hand, for however long it took, for Mickey's arms to heal. Since he had planned to stay with Mickey, any ways, this worked out just fine.

One day the man were making shoes for the baker's old horse, Nelly Belle, who was a dappled gray that had seen better days but she could still pull her wagon and the baker wouldn't think of turning her out to pasture.

"Yep, old Nelly and me, we go back a long ways," Baker Dan said, "I'm as creaky as she is these days so we suit each other well." Baker Danís hair was as gray as his horseís coat and he moved just about as slow as she did. Man and horse were loved by the whole town because they were always cheerful and kind. Dan's sons and daughter ran the bakery now but he still kept his hand in. His special rolls were still made every dawn by him.

"Well at least we don't have to worry about this old lady kicking people down and breaking their arms," the man said and grinned over at Mickey.

"You may laugh but that monster still needs to be shoed and that man will be back now that he knows you are here," Mickey replied.

"Who is this man? I don't believe he were here last time I was through," the man asked.

"He has only been here a couple of months," Dan said. "No one knows where he comes from or what exactly he does. He is supposed to be some sort of scholar but he doesn't want to teach ." Dan sat on the bench scratching his head. "Now don't get me wrong I'm sure he is a perfectly nice man but he does keep to himself and some people around here are a bit spooked by him. I know me little one is and it isn't like Fiona to be spooked, but she doesn't like the way he looks at her."

The man stopped what he was doing and looked over at Dan. "Is he bothering her? I could talk to him if he is," he said,

"No, no, he doesn't bother her he just watches her real close when he stops by to get his bread. He has said very little to her and what he does say is polite," Dan replied.

"Well, she is very beautiful," the man said, "and I guess I can't fault him for looking at her." The man went back to finishing up the shoes for the baker's horse.

Later that evening, after supper was finished, the man and Mickey sat on the porch watching the stars. They went back to the topic of the townís mysterious inhabitant.

"He is a mystery, but I'm not as sure as old Dan is, that the man is harmless," Mickey said. "I'm not just saying this because his horse was the one that broke me arms. That horse is demon for sure and I've never encountered such a foul tempered beast." Mickey shifted around so that he was in a more comfortable position.

"Well, he will be here tomorrow with that beast so I'll size him up then," the man said.

"I should tell you to be careful but I know there is more to you then a simple Bard," Mickey said with a smile.

"Now what could ye possibly be meaning by that?" the man asked. "I've been through here enough with me songs and stories that ye know I'm a Bard." The man tried to see Mickey's face clearly but he had his head turned away.

"Sure, big guy," Mickey laughed, "all Bards have crystals that glow with an inner fire and pulse like a heartbeat. I don't really think anyone else has figured you out but we have known each other longer then most, and I'm telling you, that you have an aura of magic about you."

The man didnít reply.

The following morning a man came riding up on a large black horse. He had black hair and eyes and a dark swarthy complexion and was dressed all in black. The horse was restless and he had to struggle to keep him under control.

"You the new blacksmith?" the man on the horse asked.

"No, I'm just helping Mickey out until his arms heal," the man replied. "Ye must be the scholar, Derek Blackraven."

"And you are the wandering Bard," Blackraven said. "So Bard can you shoe my horse or not?" Blackraven glared down at the man.

"Of course. Do ye want to leave him here or do ye want to wait?" the man replied.

"I'll wait. I want to see how you manage." Derek Blackraven got down from the horse and threw the reins to the man.

The horse started to rear but found that the man had too tight of a grip on him to do so. He next tried to pull away but found that was impossible too. The man just stood there holding tightly to the reins and showing no fear.

"Now then, there will be none of this nonsense me beauty," the man said as he slowly reached up towards the horse and started rubbing his nose. "Ye need new shoes and new shoes ye are going to get and the sooner ye get that through your thick skull, the better it will be for all of us."

Blackraven watched in disbelief as his horse calmed down under the deep soothing tones of the man's voice. It only took a few more minutes for the horse to calm down completely and the man started the business of shoeing the horse.

"You aren't from anywhere close to here are you?" Blackraven asked.

"No, me home is a fair piece away from here. You wouldn't have heard of it," the man said as he continued to shoe the horse.

"I am familiar with many places why don't you try me?" Blackraven replied.

The man looked up with a grin and rattled off a name that made no sense to his listeners. "I'm not sure what it would be called in your language," he said with a shrug.

"I see," Blackraven said and his eyes narrowed as he looked at the man.

 

Later that afternoon the man and Mickey headed over towards the bakery to get bread for their evening meal.

"Your country's name sounds faintly elfin big guy," Mickey said. "Are you sure there isn't a name for it that we could pronounce?"

The man laughed and said, "the closest I can come up with is Caledonia, although that isn't exactly right. I just didn't want to tell Blackraven because he is just too snooty to suit me."

They entered the bakery and stopped to take in the wonderful smells. A pretty young lady came out of the backroom wiping her hands on her apron. "May I help you?" she asked. Seeing who was there her eyes lit up. "You're back!" She rushed over and threw her arms around the man. The man picked her up and swung her around causing her to giggle.

"You are sure a sight for sore eyes, Fiona," the man said and laughed as he put her down.

"It is about time you came back here, you big oaf," Fiona said. She reached up and pulled his head down and gave him a resounding kiss. "I have something for you." She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a locket. Opening it up she showed him a picture of herself that had been painted by a local artist. "Now when you are off wandering around at least you will be able to remember what I look like."

The man took the locket and placed it in his pocket. "Now how could I ever forget someone as beautiful as yourself. When I'm away from you me dreams are full of your sweet self," he said.

"Mickey, I think this man spins the best line of malarkey I've ever heard," Fiona said with a laugh as she gave Mickey a hug. "Now what can I do for you?"

The men stocked up on bread and dessert and spent a few more minutes chatting to Fiona. As they were getting ready to leave Derek Blackraven walked into the shop.

"So how are the shoes doing on your horse?" the man asked.

"They appear to be doing fine." Blackraven replied as he looked over at Fiona who was standing close to the man. His eyes went back and forth between them.

"What may I get you Mr. Blackraven?" the girl stammered.

"A fresh loaf of your dark bread," Blackraven said as he stared at her intently.

Fiona scurried over to the shelves and got the order for him. "Will there be anything else, Sir?" she asked.

"No that will do for the moment," Blackraven replied and paid her and left the shop.

As soon as he had left Fiona rushed over to the man and threw her arms around him burying her head in his chest. "I'm sorry but he just gives me the creeps." The man held her tightly until she stopped trembling.

"Has he threatened you in any way, Fiona?" the man asked.

"Oh no, he has always been a perfect gentleman," Fiona replied. "I can't explain it. I'm sorry, I'm being very silly."

"Look if ye need me to talk to him I will," the man said and reached down and gently stroked her face.

"No, really, it is all right," Fiona said as she straightened her shoulders and smiled at him. "You are so sweet. I better let you go. Will you be singing at the Inn tonight?"

"I was planning on it," the man replied.

"Good I'll see you there," Fiona said with a smile.

"What do you think?" Mickey asked as the two men walked home.

"I think he bears watching," the man said. "I sense something wrong but I'm not sure what. It almost feels like black magic." The man's expression was very pensive.

"You can counteract him, can't you?" Mickey asked as he stopped and turned towards the man.

"Maybe," the man said with a troubled look.

 

The Riverside Inn was the central meeting place for the town. During the evenings, most of the residents passed through for a time, to chat with friends and neighbors, and catch up on the latest news. That evening, the man was the only traveler and he was in demand for stories and songs. One of the clerics requested a morality tale and the man told a story involving a fight between the forces of good and evil. The story was beautifully told and there wasn't a sound as he spun the long story in a voice that wove a song into the words. The applause was thunderous when he finished.

"Thank ye all," the man said. "If ye don't mind I'm going to take me a short break after that long one." After promising to return to the stage the man walked over to where Fiona was sitting with her father.

"I've never heard that story-song before and I thought I had heard them all. Where did it come from?" Dan asked.

"It is from me homeland actually," the man replied. "We have many stories and songs about the fight between good and evil."

"Your homeland must be magical, if it can come up with stories like that," Fiona said with shining eyes on the man.

The man grinned and shrugged. "Well, I guess, maybe we just have a way with words and can spin a good yarn."

 

Derek Blackraven was sitting by the fire in his house outside of town. His expression was furious. He had gone over to the Inn to hear that Bard so he could see what all the town people had been blithering about. When he saw her there, watching the Bard with adoring eyes, it was all he could do to keep his temper. The simpering fool had no business mooning after that stranger. There was obviously something very wrong about that man and he was afraid that he would destroy his own plans for the girl.

"Let us see what you are made of troublemaker," Blackraven sneered.

Blackraven went over to the table and swept an area clear. He placed a shiny black cauldron on the table and filled it with water. He took a vial and poured the contents into the cauldron where it swirled and lay on top of the water forming a glowing mirror. He muttered some harsh guttural sounds and waved his hand in a circular pattern over the cauldron and soon it started to smoke with the sickly-sweet smell of decay. As the smoke cleared, a picture formed showing the man sitting outside of the blacksmith's house playing on a small harp. The man's eyes were closed as his finger flew over the strings. He was leaning back against the wall with a content smile on his face.

"Focus on his chest," Blackraven ordered. The picture closed in on the man. It showed a faintly pulsing light coming from underneath the man's shirt. "Show me what is there!" he commanded.

The man suddenly sat straight up. He reached underneath his shirt and brought out a pulsing green crystal and focusing on the crystal he sent a sharp order to break the opposing spell. He returned the crystal to where it lay resting on his chest under his shirt.

A flash of green light temporarily blinded Blackraven. When his vision cleared he saw that all of the water in the cauldron had boiled dry. Swearing he threw the cauldron against the wall. "We will see just how good you are meddler. You can play your parlor tricks for these fools but you will never defeat me!" Blackraven raged.

 

"Are you all right? What happened?" Mickey asked as he anxiously stood over the man.

"Black magic. Very evil." The man answered as he looked up and shook his head. "This is not good, Mickey. We must be very careful. I don't know how strong he is."

"What are you talking about?" Mickey asked.

"Someone was spying on me using black magic," the man said. "I was able to deflect the spell but it was not pleasant." The man rubbed his eyes. "I really don't need this right now. I'm too tired."

"How did you deflect it?" Mickey asked.

"With this," the man said and he pulled out the green crystal that hung on a fine silver chain from under his shirt. The crystal pulsed with a bright light.

"What is it?" Mickey asked as he looked closely at the crystal.

"It is a focus for white magic," the man replied. "It is keyed to me and the pulsing you see is the rhythm of me heartbeat."

"Then you are a magician," Mickey said.

"In a sense. There is magic in me homeland but it is a part of everyday life to us. I know enough to generally keep me safe," the man replied.

"Who is the culprit, our friend Blackraven?" Mickey asked.

"Aye," the man said, "how strong he is I don't know yet. In any case I'll be sticking around here longer than originally planned. I'm not sure how much power your clerics have against him."

"Will you be able to convince the clerics that you are on our side?" Mickey asked.

"I should be able to," the man replied. "Cleric Robert knew what he was doing when he asked for that story tonight. I think he wanted to issue a warning to Blackraven."

 

There were no further incidents over the next two weeks but the man stayed alert. Now that he knew he had an enemy, he would be on watch and would not be caught napping.

One morning little Jamie came running up to the blacksmith's with a message for the man. "Cleric Robert would really like to see you if you can come, Sir. I think something is broken," the youngster said.

Jamie was a browned-eyed imp of a lad and the man tousled his hair. "Scoot along with ye imp," the man said. "Tell the good cleric I'll be there within a half hour. I need to finish mending this wheel or no one will have milk."

A half hour later found then man sitting in the study of Cleric Robert who was the head of the monastery at Riverside. Robert was a tall, thin man with silver hair and gray eyes. The man sat across from him with a cup of wine that Robert had offered and he noticed a faint glow emanating from the walls.

"We will not be disturbed," Robert said with a smile. "I don't think we need to beat around the bush. You recognize wards when you see them. Let me see your crystal."

The man's eyebrows went up but he shrugged and smiled and pulled the crystal out.

"I see, one of the Tuatha de Danann that migrated over to another place and time," Robert said.

"Now then, where did your people migrate to if I may be so bold, me dear cleric?" The man asked and he was smiling broadly.

"We took the Southern route through the Vail of Tears," Cleric Robert said and his smile was equally as broad.

"What brings ye here?" the man asked.

"Ironically, I was looking for a peaceful place to stay for a few years," Robert said, "I'm tired and wanted some peace and quiet. I was always a teacher and this place is so peaceful. It is a wonderfully simple life with good people. I don't want to see anything happen that would destroy that peace."

"Do ye have the magic to prevent the kind of trouble we seem to be facing?" the man asked.

"Alas, no, I don't," Robert replied, "like I said, I was always a teacher. I can do minor spells like these wards, and I can handle a bit of truth saying and persuasion but that is all."

"I see. Are there any more of us here?" the man asked.

"No. What is your main talent?" Robert asked the man.

"I'm a shape-shifter," the man replied.

"I see," Robert said, "that is a talent that you have to keep quiet about. It is a little hard to explain to god-fearing people how a man can literally turn into an animal." Robert smiled at the man.

"Well I do keep that quiet," the man said. "I'm not sure that can help us here. Can you get a feel just how deep into the black arts that man is?"

"No, but I fear he knows a fair amount," Robert replied. "I can sense a disturbance. There are forces being called into being that I fear will destroy this town. I'm not sure what we can do about it but I'll definitely need your help."

"You can count on me, Sir," the said and he looked very troubled.

 

The spring rains were coming daily and most of them were soft gentle rains but there was an occasional thunderstorm that left people huddling indoors with the shutters securely fastened. During one of these storms, Baker Dan caught a severe cold that left him bedridden. He fretted over his rounds until Fiona finally told him that she was going to do the rounds and that was that. He was going to rest. Since his wife and three sons were there to reinforce Fiona's statement, the old man finally agreed.

"Hello, Nelly Belle," Fiona said. "We will be doing the rounds together. Now don't you fret, Daddy will be all right. He just needs to rest." Fiona petted the old horse and fed her a lump of sugar.

The morning had started out clear as a bell. Fiona had accompanied her father, ever since she was a child, and knew the route he took by heart. The townspeople had watched her grow from a golden child into a beautiful adult. Their were many young men that loved her, but her heart had been given to the wandering Bard. From the first time she set eyes on the tall redhead, she knew he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. The man seemed equally smitten with Fiona and soon was coming back for longer visits. The townspeople figured it was only a matter of time before the two wed and Fiona accompanied him on his wanderings.

Fiona made all the morning stops, leaving the orders with all the people that were on the outskirts. Mid-afternoon found her at the blacksmith's shop.

"Daddy is chomping at the bit wanting to get out of bed but we aren't letting him. Mummy says that he is the most stubborn man she knows but, she also says, that he is no match for her," Fiona giggled. "Well I thank you for the lunch, gentlemen. If you can just bring that candlestick over when mended Mum will be very happy."

"I'll have it fixed this afternoon," the man said. "Now ye be careful on the rest of your rounds. The air feels a mite peculiar and I fear we may be in for a nasty storm."

"Now don't you fret," Fiona said, "I don't have too many more rounds to make and I'll be back home before you come with that candlestick." Fiona gave him a kiss on the check.

"Now that won't do at all!" the man said and he picked her up and gave her a resounding kiss that left her breathless.

"Whoa there. What was that for?" Fiona said blushing.

"Cause I love you that's why," the man said.

"I love you too," Fiona said shyly.

She went to the rest of her rounds with a smile on her face. Her last stop was at Derek Blackraven's house outside of town. The air had become very close and the horse was nervous.

"Steady dear," Fiona said, "this is our last stop and then we will go home and get you safely tucked into your stall." She threw her arms around the horse's neck and hugged the dappled gray.

Fiona knocked on the door with growing unease. There was no answer. She knocked harder. "Mr. Blackraven, I have your bakery order."

The door opened but there was no one there. "Mr. Blackraven?" Fiona called. "Are you here?"

"Come in Fiona." Blackraven said and walked out of the shadows into the light of the fire. "My hands are rather full. Please put the order on the table."

Fiona nervously entered the house and walked over to the table. "It is already paid for so I'll be wishing you a good day," she said. "A storm is brewing and I'll need to get the horse home before it hits."

Blackraven said nothing. Fiona quickly walked over to the door and started to reach for the handle. Suddenly she found herself falling. The last thing she heard was "I think not."

 

"Could she have waited out the storm someplace?" the man said as he paced in the baker's living room. "It is one of the fiercest storms I've seen in a long time."

"She should have been back before it hit though," Baker Dan said. "I know she wouldn't keep Nelly Belle out in this weather because she knows how scared the horse gets." Baker Dan was bundled up in his big chair. He kept trying to get up so he could go look for his youngest child, and only daughter. His wife kept gently pushing him back down.

"Now Daddy," his wife said soothingly, "Fiona is a bright girl. She would stay with someone if the storm was coming too quick and she couldn't get back here."

"Maybe I should go look for her," the man said.

"Would you please?" Dan asked. "I'm powerful worried about her."

The man headed out following Fiona's rounds. His next to last stop was at the monastery where he consulted with Cleric Robert for several minutes. It was with a grim face that he left there.

 

Fiona woke with a blinding headache. She found herself lying on a hard pallet in what had to be the cellar. She tried to sit up but found that she was bound and gagged. She tried to remain calm but her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid that it would burst. After what seemed like hours, the door opened and in walked Derek Blackraven. He was wearing a red robe with arcane symbols all over it.

"So my pretty you are awake," he said. "Good. You have a valuable service to perform tonight."

He came over and checked her bonds and gag and seeing that they were tight he picked her up and slung her over his shoulders like a bag of grain. He walked over to a door which led to stairs going down into a long tunnel. The tunnel was lit by torches in the walls and emptied into a cavern. Blackraven took the helpless girl over to a stone altar and laid her down. He retied her bonds so that her arms and legs were spread eagle. He took her gag out.

"What are you doing? Please let me go." Fiona said and she was trembling with fear and cold.

"Oh no my dear," he replied. "You are the link I need to great power. Just be patient and you will be rewarded." Blackraven grabbed her by the throat. "It would be so sweet to take you myself but there is another that hungers for your flesh."

"Please don't do this!" Fiona sobbed.

She gasped as Blackraven slapped her hard across the face. "We have a little time before the ceremony," he growled. "Time enough to deal with your treachery. You think I don't know of your passion for that freak. I was going to offer to make you mine, and give you a share of my power, but you spurned me for him."

 

Blackraven grabbed the helpless girl and retying her so that she was face down on the stone altar he proceeded to rip the garments from her. Taking a small whip he beat the girl from the base of her neck to the soles of her feet. When he was finished he turned her over and slamming her on her back retied her. He ignored her sobs of pain.

 

The man had run over to Blackraven's house. He knew that Cleric Robert was going for help but he feared that time was of the essence and he had to act fast. The door was securely fastened but the man was in such a state that his strength was enough to shatter the door. Racing through the house he called Fiona's name. He came to the door in the cellar but found that it was bound with a spell that he didn't have time to try and break.

"Damn!" the man exclaimed. "I'll have to try and follow the spells by air." The man raced outside shapeshifting as he went along and by the time he cleared the house he had changed into a huge eagle and had launched himself into the air. He circled high overhead looking for the signs that black magic was being performed and it was close to midnight before he finally spotted the cave.

Derek Blackraven was standing inside a pentagram when the man burst in. He was in the final phase of his incantation. "By the powers of Beelzebub I name you," Blackraven intoned. "Your prize is here. My prize you are bound to give me."

"Stop! Be gone fiend," the man yelled and he raced towards the altar where Fiona was bound.

"You are too late elf!" Blackraven crowed and from behind him a demon appeared.

The man dove out of the way of a blast of fire that came from the sorcerer's hand. The manís green crystal flashed and managed to stop the sorcererís next blast before it reached him.

"Oh elf," the demon hissed, "you aren't going to try and take my prize from me are you? I won her fair and square. I give the sorcerer the black power, and he gives me my own virgin."

"You will never get her fiend. I can stop you," the man cried.

"Maybe, maybe not. Your old man probably could but it is still to be seen what you are made of," the demon cackled.

Blackraven laughed as the man and demon circled each other. The demon threw a face full of sulfur at the man. Choking and wiping his eyes the man leaped towards the demon swinging his crystal towards the demon's head. A scream issued from the demon as it struck, leaving a burn across his face.

The demon was enraged and turned on Blackraven. "You fool!" the demon snarled. "You didn't check this one out carefully. He is one of the high elves with a life crystal. You will face eternity in Hell for this." The demon's face was melting where the crystal hit.

"I kept my bargain. I have your name and you must give me my power," Blackraven exclaimed.

"You want power then take it!" the demon snarled. A brilliant flash blinded everyone and the cave shook and rocks started to fall. Blackraven screamed, as did the demon. The man desperately tried to get over to the altar where his love lay helpless. He felt a blinding flash of pain as something hit his head. Darkness overcame him.

The man came to laying on the grass near the river. Cleric Robert was sitting by his side. "Lay still," he said. "It is all over." Robert gently pushed the man down.

"Fiona?" the man asked.

"A stalagmite from the ceiling came down and pierced her heart. She died instantly. I'm sorry," Robert replied.

"Blackraven?" the man asked.

"He was blasted by the power he sought," the Cleric replied. "There is nothing left of his physical body but ashes. His spirit will live for eternity in torment. "

The man stayed through the funeral and then quietly slipped away. He walked aimlessly for many days. The storms had accompanied him where he wandered. At least these storms were normal, and not conjured up by evil sorcerers to hide their foul deeds.

 

Sean sat back and looked over at Moira. "Sometimes when it rains, Missy, the sky is crying." He got up and walked away, heading for his room in the back of the Inn.

Moira shook her head as she watched her friend go. She picked up his cloak and took it over to the fire and lay it on the rack to dry. She heard something fall out of the pocket. She reached down and picked up a gold locket that had opened to a small painting of a golden haired lady.

"Oh Sean," Moira sighed.

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