October 12, 1777 - A Midnight Recollection

Location: 32.1440° N, 60.7302° W

In the deep silence of the night, a startling clarity pierced my half-slumber — a realization that tugged at the edges of my consciousness with the weight of forgotten traditions. Tonight, or rather, just hours past, was Oiche Maellta, the illustrious concert held in Tir na nOg, an event that marks the passage of time not just by the calendar but by the soul's longing for celebration and unity.

A wry smile found its way across my face, imagining my brother Tak, undoubtedly reveling in the festivities, his spirit as untamed as the winds that guide us. By now, he'd be lost in the music and the mirth, likely finding his way into the embrace of adventure, or more precisely, into someone's bed, his laughter echoing in the starlit halls of our ethereal home.

The thought brought a momentary pang of longing, a wish to partake in the timeless traditions of my kin. Yet, as quickly as it came, the feeling ebbed, replaced by a serene acceptance of my path — one that sails through mortal seas under a canopy of stars not so different from those that watch over Tir na nOg.

With a deep, steadying breath, I let the memory of Oiche Maellta fade into the night, a fleeting reminder of another life, another world. Turning in the dim light of our cabin, I caught a glimpse of Alaric's peaceful form, his presence a grounding anchor in the sea of my thoughts. The gentle rise and fall of his chest, under the rhythm of deep sleep, lulled me back towards rest, a silent lullaby that carried me once more into the embrace of dreams, far from the echoes of forgotten songs and the revelries of spectral halls.