The King of Sleep by Caiseal Mor

thing the Brehon knew he was wandering down roads at once familiar and frightening. And with every step he swore to himself he would not travel unprepared to this place again.
    Led by nagging curiosity and wonder that his exhaustion had dropped away, he moved on through the Otherworldly landscape. In dreams such as this, time runs differently. Seasons may seem to pass in the span it takes the dreamer to draw a single breath.
    At length Dalan’s meandering soul came to the summit of a little rounded hill and there on the other side was an astounding sight. Before him was the most amazing and unusual tree he’d ever seen, either in thisworld or the other. The wonder of it snatched his breath away. A gorgeous green luminescence lit the air all about its branches, creating a thin, shimmering cloak of dull light. All the grass about its feet lay bathed in this enticing glow.
    Dalan sensed a strong spirit in the tree, an old wise soul sharply aware of everything and surely mindful of his incursion into its sanctuary.
    As the Brehon moved cautiously closer to the bottom of the hill his eyes widened in awe at what was revealed to him. The trunk of this tree was enormous, larger than anything he could have imagined. The whole surface was covered in a thick, scaly brown skin.
    Dalan walked around it, counting out his paces as he went. He put his foot down at fifty and shook his head in disbelief. He’d never known a tree to grow so large.
    In the next second he found his attention entirely captured by the elegant shape of the leaves, the little red fruit and the white flowers. The whole tree gently moved in time with the fluttering breeze.
    The Brehon frowned when he realized he couldn’t name the tree. He would have said this was a rowan but it was too high and wide. Its branches twisted about in a contorted shape he had never seen before in that species.
    With a trembling hand Dalan reached out, plucked a flower and held it to his face to feel the softness of the petals against his skin. He smelled the scent ofrowan stronger than he could ever recall. Then he took a berry between his fingers and, with great reverence for the wonder contained within, broke it open with his fingernails. Inside was hidden a star shape with six points. This was confirmation enough for him.
    â€œRowan,” Dalan declared.
    â€œIndeed it is a rowan,” a woman replied, and the Brehon wasn’t in the least startled to hear another voice.
    He turned his head in a slow, dreamy movement to look for her. But all he saw, all that filled his field of vision, were two dark, wet enticing eyes beckoning to him.
    Dalan felt the stirring of a passion deep within his being. A craving came over him such as he hadn’t felt since he was a younger man. And for all his learning, for all his mastery of the poet’s art and the musician’s craft, he could find no word to describe this sensation.
    The woman’s smile was immediately comforting. Her face recalled to him all the folk he truly loved in this life. Her hand beckoned him closer with a gentle, calming gesture. The Brehon took a step toward the woman. The shadows began to lengthen, heralding the approach of night. And above in the darkening sky a bright star shone out.
    The first star. The Evening Star. She who watches over all on Earth.
    â€œWho are you?” Dalan asked, his mouth dry with anticipation.
    The woman laughed. It wasn’t a mocking sound but one of mirthful, childlike teasing. And there was such an innocence and purity in it that the Brehon could not help but join her chorus of joy.
    So together they stood laughing with each other long after tears had filled the Brehon’s eyes. In those moments Dalan could have believed all the cares of the world had dropped away from his spirit. He forgot fear. His consciousness was filled with only light, warmth and hope for the future. Nothing else mattered but the delight which overwhelmed his senses.
    When the