EPILOGUE

ON THE BASE OF LOUGH CORRIB

The vampire watched the gathering from a safe hiding spot. She didn't move a muscle. Only her eyelashes twitched. So far, no one had noticed her presence, and it should stay that way. Although she could see the assembly from her perch in a tall tree, close enough to understand the words being spoken, unfortunately, she couldn't get any closer. If she were a Lycana, she could have transformed into a small animal and crept closer to eavesdrop unnoticed. But as it were, this option was denied to her. A strange feeling welled up within her. Could it be envy? Impossible.

The vampire narrowed her eyes. What was happening on the clearing? It seemed like a peaceful resolution was being negotiated. Of course, the werewolves had failed miserably. Mac Gaoth had fallen, the old power structures were restored. Despite her careful planning, things hadn't gone as she envisioned. And then, the heirs had appeared and interfered in the battle. They got caught in the crossfire of the silver bullets! She closed her eyes in anguish for a moment. No, that was something she hadn't foreseen. How could the Lycana have allowed such a thing to happen? Yes, it had been the heirs who had turned the tide. It didn't surprise the vampire to see the stone now in the hands of the Druid. What other options did she have left? She could almost feel the threads slipping away, the ones she had believed to hold so firmly in her grasp. A wave of panic surged within her. She couldn't go back and tell the Master she had failed once again! What would he do to her? She'd rather not think about it.

A glimmer on the shore caught her attention. A white boat landed, and a young, tall woman with blond hair stepped off. Definitely a human woman. Druid Tara approached her and greeted her. Did she belong to the Druids? Probably. Why else would she attend this gathering? Besides, the Lycana remained completely calm. None of them seemed to entertain the thought of feasting on her blood.

The vampire observed what happened next, while she racked her brain about how she could still turn everything to her advantage. She needed to get her hands on that cursed stone, but how?

Movement resumed on the clearing. Druid Tara handed the stone to the young woman, who apparently intended to take it away on her boat. The heirs and their servants boarded a larger ship steered by an old man. Once they were aboard, the Lycana transformed into bats and circled the ship, while the visitors from the other families prepared to cross the lake. The werewolves also prepared to depart. Where they would go, the vampire didn't know, and she didn't care either now that they no longer possessed the stone. With growing panic, she watched the two boats as they glided over the calm waters. All was lost. In this moment, she would have given anything to be able to transform into a bird! And yet, what could she do against so many opponents?

Suddenly, the vampire paused. They were splitting up! While the ship accompanied by the Lycana headed southwest, the Druid's small boat turned northwest. Slowly, it drifted away, while the vampire's view of the vampires' ship soon disappeared. Excitement surged within her like a wave. Perhaps fate could still be turned? She quickly slid down from the tree and headed towards the bay a short distance north of the assembly site, where the boat she had brought from Cong still lay on the shore. She pushed it into the water and jumped in. With strong strokes of the oars, she propelled it onto the lake. She ignored the sailcloth. She had to be faster than the Druid's boat and intercept it before it reached its destination. Who could say where they were taking the stone and if she could still manage to reach out for it there? A grim smile spread across her face as the small white boat came into view.

"One might not be able to destroy the stone, but one can certainly keep it forever out of the reach of the Lycana and all others!"

The vampire pulled the oars through the smooth water. It was beneath her dignity to perform such lowly labor, but at this moment, all that counted was that enough strength resided in her body, and the great goal ahead of her, which she rapidly approached.

Did the woman not recognize the danger approaching her, or did she possess powers of which the vampire was unaware? The young Druid didn't even try to flee. As the strange boat rushed toward her, she stood upright and stretched out her palms to the vampire.

"Who are you? Do you belong to the Lycana? I don't know you! What is your desire?"

The vampire smiled wickedly. "Who I am is none of your concern. All I want is the stone. Give it to me!"

The Druid shook her head. "The stone was entrusted to us Druids, to protect and preserve for ninety-nine years. You cannot board this boat against my will! Tara has erected a barrier, and the island of Inchagoill is also under the protection of the Druids."

The vampire hesitated. She was now close enough to leap onto the other boat. She probed the thoughts of the young Druid. At least, she herself seemed convinced that the barrier could not be breached. What now? Should she still risk it and possibly be thrown into the water? Thoughtfully, she regarded the narrow boat. Well, perhaps she truly couldn't set foot on it, but did she need to? She didn't actually want to get her hands on the stone. She only wanted to prevent the Reifträger from ever gaining strength in the heart of Ireland again - especially Ivy. That was the Master's will. The power of the Reifen quickly faded when they left the land. Perhaps in just a few months, the Master would manage to capture her when Ivy left the island to attend a new year at the academy. Once again, the vampire wondered why he wanted this particular girl. What was so special about the Lycana that the Master patiently worked for years to possess her? It hurt her that he didn't trust her enough to involve her in his plans. And yet, she couldn't turn away from him. The mere thought of him made her spirit tremble. She had sworn herself to him, and she would serve him, whatever he demanded of her. 

The vampire reached for the oars again and pulled them through the water with all her strength.

"What do you intend to do?" the woman called out. The vampire took satisfaction in the fear in her voice. She didn't answer. She focused entirely on the play of her muscles and on the tip of her prow, which was heading towards the side of the Druid's ship. Another strong pull. The prow crashed against the planks. The wood creaked. The white boat tilted to the side. Water splashed over the gunwale. The Druid screamed and clutched the stone. The vampire backed off a bit and rammed the boat a second time. She maintained the pressure, though she felt like her arms would burst, until the gunwale of the other boat went under water. With a cry, the Druid fell into the water. Her boat capsized and danced upside down on the waves. Spluttering, the Druid surfaced, kicking her legs. She struggled to hold onto the stone, still pressed against her chest. 

"Let it go!"

With a few strokes of the oars, the vampire reached her. She struck the woman's head with the paddle and then simply rode over her. Once again, she dove under. Bubbles rose and burst. The vampire thought she had drowned when her head broke the surface again, and the Druid gasped for air. She thrashed her arms to stay afloat. The stone slipped from her grasp and sank to the bottom through the greenish shimmering water. Shaking with sobs, the young woman clung to the hull of her boat. Her blonde hair was bloodstained. 

The vampire threw back her head and let out a triumphant howl. She laughed until her body shook. 

"It is done! Master, I have triumphed!" she cried, raising her fist into the air. Then she made her way home. Back to the shore, back to Dublin, back to the continent, to her homeland, to report her victory. Her thoughts raced ahead of her, and she saw herself facing him. Now she dared to lift her gaze and behold his towering figure, to kiss the lizard ring on his finger, and to bask in the aura of his power. His voice echoed in her mind. "You've done well. I haven't misjudged you! I know how to punish failure, but also how to honor victory." He would clasp her hand and take her to him. The vampire closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. 

The cloch adhair was lost. It now rested at the bottom of Lough Corrib, unreachable for anyone. Isleen couldn't believe it. She had lost the heart of Ireland! Its soul gambled away. It was her fault. How could something like this happen? Why hadn't even Tara or Turlough foreseen it? Isleen still clung to the drifting boat's hull, but her strength was fading. The blow from the paddle had left a gaping wound above her temple. Blood still flowed, mixing with the lake water, and with the blood, her strength waned. She wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. Her leg movements became sluggish. Her vision blurred.

Perhaps it was for the best. She had failed and forfeited the right to live. Isleen closed her eyes. The sun rose and bathed Lough in gold. How much she had always loved this sight. Today she would see it for the last time. Tears blurred the image. Isleen blinked. A dark shadow broke the gold surface of the water. What was that? A boat? Was the vampire coming back to kill her? She didn't need to. She would die anyway. But why was it coming from the west?

The boat hull grew larger, a sail outlined against the sky. No, that wasn't the vampire's boat. This ship was comfortingly familiar to her. Isleen sobbed, her whole body trembling. Even when the old man's lean arms had already pulled her on board and wrapped her in a blanket, she couldn't stop. He handed her a cloth and gently pressed it against her wound. With a shy expression, he looked at her. He raised his arm as if to put it around her shoulder, then let it fall again.

"Don't cry, Miss Isleen," said the old fisherman.

Isleen sobbed and threw herself against his chest. "I've lost the cloch adhair. It's my fault, Grandfather!"

Quintin froze. Then a smile spread across his wrinkled face. "You know?"

"Oh yes. From the beginning. How could my heart keep it from me?"

"Don't despair, Isleen. The soul of the land cannot be lost. It's still there. It now lies at the bottom of Lough, united with its band of marble. No one can harm it there. And no one needs to wage wars anymore to possess it. Perhaps it was the will of the gods that it should come to pass this way, and you were the tool in their hands. Dry your tears. No one will blame you. I'll take you back to the island, back to where your place is in history, Druid Isleen."