Скачать или смотреть Whispers on the Wind of Beltane

On the eve of Beltane, as the last embers of the bonfire flickered under a sky freckled with stars, Maeve wandered alone into the moorland mist, her white shawl catching the breeze like wings. The music and laughter of the revelers drifted faintly behind her, but ahead, the wind carried older sounds—soft whispers, curling like smoke through the hawthorn trees. She paused where two ancient stones stood like sentinels, and in that hush, she heard them: voices not quite of this world, speaking her name in lilting tongues. A warm wind coiled around her wrist like a ribbon, and the scent of wildflowers bloomed where none had been. She knew then what the old ones meant when they said Beltane was a thinning—the veil drawn back just enough for the spirits to speak, if only you dared to listen.

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