The twins of Tir ná Lia

The twins of Tir ná Lia

"Why aren't we allowed in the Forest of Tir ná Lia?"
A simple question, yet the arrogant pups tone was laced with indignation. It wasn't uncommon for a pup to get a bit big for their paws and the Elders of the pack were quite used to taking them down a notch.

Murmurs filled the cave as the Elder had hesitated in their answer. It was best to quell the curiosity.

"I will tell you why we do not enter the Forest, young one. It must be known that nobody passes through the boundary without proper permission, or else the Guardian will take your life without a second thought.
Bloodline does not matter… no not even the children of your leader. Strength can be forgotten, for not even the brawniest of you will survive to flaunt your feats. Wit can be discarded, you will not be able to think of an escape."

The Elder spoke in a soft voice, barely a whisper. The graveness of her caution reflected in her tired eyes, and her words held an air of wisdom that could not be disputed. She looked at each of the pups in turn, commanding their full attention before resuming.

"You may hear tales of what lurks in the Forest. And very few know of the truth. This story has been passed down for generations, and one day you may stand where I am tonight, speaking these very same words.
Many of you will go your entire lifetime never entering those woods, but a select few might one day be blessed enough for a visit. It could be that one of you, or your children, could be chosen as the next Guardian. The highest role, other than leading, that this pack has to offer.
It is rumoured that during one of the darkest hours in the history of Mourning Midnight, the wolves had lost their way to the moon. Ruled by a cruel and benevolent Leader, the wolves living under his claw suffered. At the beginning of time, the pack had thrived. As years went on it became clear that many were blessed with abilities and talents that other packs did not have. Under the counsel of gentle leadership and a firm understanding of love and loyalty, these traits only grew in abundance. Wolves could be their true selves under the protection of the forest and guidance from the moon spirits. Dream walkers were hailed and admired, for being the pathway between the worlds. Their knowledge highly regarded as a token of peace and prosperity.
But as jealousy and greed grew, the bounteous days of Mourning Midnight dwindled.
And it was during this age that death scorched the earth.
The land grew barren, devoid of signs of life. Pups were culled for seeming weak or lacking in ability. Suspicion took the place of trust, and fear suppressed growth. Special talents were all but diminished, and those who remembered the days of old grieved for what had been lost to time and tyranny. Oppression had subdued the powers that gave us our gifts.

I tell you this, young ones, so that history does not repeat itself.

Despite the great loss, there were those who fought to keep the spirit of the old pack alive. Through legends and lessons of history. Instilling hope in each other and passed to the next generation. The fire may have reduced to embers, but kindling kept the flame alight.

It is believed that due to these few, the blessing of the Twins came to be.

The howling gales of winter storms are said to mimic the cries of a mother in anguish, forcing us to relive her pain each year the winds arrive at the turn of the season.
A pair, each with their own mind and body, cursed to spend eternity with one another. Joined by sinew and bone that can never be severed without causing death. They'd never grow, hunt, nor lead.
But through the eyes of the last living seers, the flame within their soul burned brighter than all the stars in the sky.
A combined effort of secrecy and revitalised strength saw the new age dawning. A young wolf chosen from amongst the ranks dedicated their life to protect the Twins. Sworn to Oath to protect them at any cost.
The Forest in which they resided flourished, the ground bursting with wildflowers, trees twisting and winding in an unusual fashion, moss clinging to their bark and providing nourishment to the land within the branch cover. It became a haven that reflected what used to be.
The Guardian himself is rumoured to have taken on mystical powers of strength and size, transforming into a creature that resembled the Forest itself. Imposing to the untrained eye, but a majestic and all-knowing being to those who meant no harm.

Though the Twins should never have survived past their first moons, they lived on. The Tyrant of the past may have ordered their demise, but it is believed that they carry a blessing to the land. A new hope, a reform, a fresh lease of life.
When a Guardian fulfils their duty and exerts their last breath, a new one is chosen. And each must pass the test of the Twins. Once one steps paw into the Forest with their newfound title, they must never leave the threshold. It may be that the Twins no longer exist in physical form, but evidence of their spirit runs through our ancestors and our home.

The Forest commands our respect. The spirits deserve their respite. And this, my young ones, is why we do not enter the Forest of Tir ná Lia."


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