OLD MAN OF STORR 57°30’26.8”N 6°11’05.3”W
“Sometimes, to become conscious of the hidden truths, we must first believe. By unlocking the vision that lies beyond the visible, we find the clarity to truly see.”
The giants’ spirits also became the winds that whispered through the glens and the rivers that rushed down the slopes. With their water, they carry ancient secrets out into the world. Legend has it that, on clear nights, the silhouette of the giants can be seen in the mountains, their profiles etched against the clear, starlit sky. The people of Scotland became blind to the magic surrounding them, but some still see and feel the giants’ presence, reminded that every crag, loch, and hill is a testament to the enduring friendship that shaped the very soul of the Highlands.” I had somehow fallen asleep and dreamed wild dreams of giants, fairies, and the world’s creation. When I woke up with the mist of daylight, I found myself alone in the shack, wondering if this was all a dream. The fireplace was slowly smoking when I got up to hike to the next village. When I stepped into the daylight, I shielded my eyes with my hand. Little by little, the landscape silhouettes came back, and I gasped when I found myself facing a stranger. “You’re not supposed to be here, madam. It is said one should never enter this shack!” he proclaimed. I explained my situation and told him about the old man in the hut, the giants, and the myth of Scotland. The local man looked at me in disbelief when I said the old man’s name was Alistair. “You mean Alistair, who died 60,000 years ago, the myth himself? The one who lives between the worlds? Only a handful of people claimed to have seen him before they disappeared. If you hike the mountains by yourself, you could find his cottage hidden in the earth. But you will never return to our time—at least, I’ve never heard of it.”
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MOTHER VOLUME THREE
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