I am no more than a shadow. At night, I vanish completely. Where nothing is visible, nothing remains. Nothing is in my way. The moon is merely a pale suggestion behind veils of clouds, yielding only outlines of branches across the sky. Down where I dwell, the moon betrays nothing. I slip silently through trees and rocks. I am as insubstantial as it pleases me to be, for I am a child of the Cleas Sgàith.

Long ago, Gruagach kept his kine on this island. It was called Eilean a' Cheò in those days. Gruagach was by some seen as a terrible, old monster and by others as a beautiful, golden-haired youth. He was both. He had learned to shapeshift, perform unearthly feats, recite tree wisdom, and reveal secrets long hidden by shadows. Gruagach's wonderful powers were a mystery to many, but he schooled his daughters well. They were called Scathach and Aoife, and my cousin and I are named for the two sisters, respectively. We are directly descended from the two houses they established when their sibling rivalry began. The feud continues to this day, though we have found the best remedy is to avoid one another altogether.

The hills and woods of Caol Loch Aillse have been my home for many years. I have no buildings, no settlements. Each night my bed is a new bit of earth, a camp that vanishes at dawn. My existence is a humble one, though any woman of my lineage would deserve to sleep on fine, down mattresses in great, timber halls. I deserve to sit idly in a throne. Such is the life Scathach has adopted. But I have taken a different path. I gave up mortal luxuries for the art. To truly become a pupil of the shadows, there are great sacrifices to be made.

Before laying my head down for the night, I take a last look into the dying embers of my campfire, poking at orange and blue ashes for a new revelation.

My cousin's return! She waits at the bridge? There are many in her company, including a young woman of some importance. The shadow of Manannan stands close to this strange woman, with a hand upon her shoulder. What sort of person does Scathach intend to bring to her ridiculous college? And who are the others? They are a motley display of creatures, hardly the sort that usually seek out Scathach. Never before has my cousin recruited. Prospective pupils typically come on their own, most often champions of their own clans, curious to learn what all the fuss is about. Seldom is any champion prepared for the way of the Cleas Sgàith. Their scholarship often ends with discouragement and failure.

And that is only if Scathach is their tutor. If I like the look of them, I will reach them before they even attempt the bridge. And if they will be schooled by me, they will likely meet with either death or madness. But that is the price of mastering the shadows. Scathach teaches only the secrets she wishes to reveal, but I hide nothing. My students are not kept from anything. I need no school. The shadows cannot be contained at Màrrach Mòr. They are wild and boundless, and so my students study in the wilds. My students' senses are assulted, their minds marauded, their mortal souls shattered, and they experience both supernatural horrors and pleasures as they transcend into the shadow realm.

Many of the strongest warriors in the world do not have the constitution to survive the process. But those that do become figures of legend. Let Scathach mould her champions. Aoife gave the world Cúchulainn. I am the maker of heroes.

I poke around a bit longer, observing the vision in the embers, to see if my next apprentice is among Scathach's retinue.