A double moon appeared the night he was born.
The worlds have been breached and he will lead the two worlds.
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There was a sense of waiting that night. The anticipation. The logs shone brightly in the fireplace keeping the interior warm and cozy.

It was a cold night, the trees swayed bowing in the frosty wind bending low.
Bowing. As if in respect. A lone coal black owl sat perched on the branches of the Ancient One. The Elm tree which looked just liked the rest surrounding him. But it’s roots ran deep into the interior, drawing it’s strength from the core within. A mythical majestic power that is unknown to our world. The core that many unexplainable happenings draw their strength on.

It’s olive green leaves rustled as the wind raced through, with a sheen that was unearthly lush and dark.

The owl was staring across the large field in the direction of that pale house. Red bricked with white borders. In front of the house was another tree barren and leafless yet glowing in the milky light of the pale moon that hung low in the autumn sky.


On the tree was a snowy white owl staring into one of the windows.

It was lit bright by many candle lights that stood precariously on the candle stands on of which was held by Molly who was helping Mother Lydia with the giving birth.

Footsteps of the anxious father echoed down the hallway. A lady’s face was drenched in sweat. Her face in acute pain bunched up at the temples, teeth gritted, nose wrinkled. Faced flushed.

A single drop of perspiration fell off her chin to the timber dark floor. At that moment. That cataclysmic moment, the cries of the ancient blood were heard.

He that was the bridge of the two worlds.