“. . . Heroes are and have always been, beyond the reach of the common man, glorified and lorded, they stand at the peak of humanity, remembered in epics, sagas, legends and myths. Immortal and undying, their fame, feats of bravery, the list of their deeds and their often-tragic endings, are retold and passed down generation after generation. Their true death staved off so long as their songs of glory are sung.

“So too will Heron’s Shadow’s song of glory, sacrifice and her tragic loss to us all, be remembered and retold, forevermore.”

Staring up at the huge screen in the middle of the huge throng of people, all crowded and packed into Cronos Square, a young teenage girl stared and mourned the loss of her hero, the huge crowd all her companions in grief. Heron’s Shadow, a superhero of a generation, distant grand-daughter of Horus, the Egyptian God-King, once she flew with an army of birds of prey, now she sleeps in the Mausoleum of Heroes.

While heroes come in many forms, many achievable with effort, learning, dedication or skill, to be a superhero, you have to be born with your gift and all gifts come from the ancient gods and all descendants come from the Grand Temple of Nexus. The teenage girl watched with the rest of the crowd as the Speaker of Heroes, finished his soft and simple eulogy, one that had become the traditional honour for fallen heroes, though only the greatest of heroes earned the Speaker himself giving the address. The girl knew that the sadness would pass, as it did for all the rest of her idols and heroes, because that was just the way of the world.

She still remembered the lessons from her history class and of her History Teacher, Mrs Morgan, telling herself and the rest of the class of her own girlhood heroes and their eventual fall and how a few of them had even made it into the history textbooks siting on the desks in front of each of the students. Just another form of retelling the epics of legends.

Tears rolled down her face as she realized that her idol was now reduced to a story to be retold, a figure to be remembered rather than watched. Shaking her head, the girl turns and pushes her way out of the crowd of mourning, the press of bodies having become suffocating. With much effort and grim desperation, she breaks out of the crowd, finally able to take a deep breath, her body sweaty and shivering.

Turning to look back at the massive screen, now showing the many scenes of Heron’s Shadow’s tribulations and triumphs. Closing her eyes in pained remembrance and turning away again, she pulls the hood of her jacket over her head and skulks away, the world suddenly feeling so much colder and unsafe than moments before.

Hurrying, her pace swift, even rushed, and almost a jog, she headed home, in the hopes that it will feel safer than the world outside, shame burning in her guts, remorse clogging her chest at her urge, her need, to run and escape to safety. However, as she was about to leave the square, she noticed the figure of a man standing apart from the crowd, not just physically or figuratively, but innately, like he was beyond them, as if one or the other could not exist at the same time and place.

A divide separated them, with even an inch being the breadth of existence.

Then he turned and looked at her, and she discovered that the distance that existed between the crowd and him, didn’t exist between the two of them. There was a bridge, a connection, between the two of them, one that baffled the girl, and unnerved her, because she had never seen this man in her life, or not her life that she had memories of.

She stared at him with unease, noting down his every detail trying to place where this connection came from. He was dressed in a suit and tie, with a formal yet still relaxed tone to his presence, the black suit with emerald green tie seemingly a reflection of his demeaner. Warm golden blonde hair, the colour of molten gold, with its undertones of red and orange, cut short on the sides but was long and straight on top and at the back, reaching well beneath his broad shoulders. Low forehead, razer straight nose, bold cheekbones and firm jaw outline form his face, a clean handsome look, even a little gorgeous in some respects, especially if you see his clear summer green eyes. Tall but not lanky, muscular but not exaggerated, he was perfectly balanced and proportional, with a solid stance even when relaxed, she realised that to many of her friends, this was a wet-dream worthy male.

Yet she felt no attraction whatsoever, that connection almost whispering to her.

“Family.”

She had only glanced down for a moment when she heard the voice, rich and mellow, filled with care and deep kindness, making her gaze jump up from the pavement and from her minute distraction. She stared at the man, now suddenly only a few feet away, a shiver going down her spine, her body freezing in shock as she stared gobsmacked as the word ‘family’, he had spoken, chimed within her as the name of the connection.

There was just one problem with that.

She had been in foster care for her entire life. Her entire life. From the moment she arrived in the hospital to now, she never had a family, no parents, no siblings, no relatives and no pets. The man’s eyes were infinitely gentle as he reached out his hand, his voice soft and soothing to her suddenly raw nerves.

“You have questions, many that you didn’t even realize you had before this moment and I will answer them all, no matter how difficult they may be. All I ask in return is the chance to explain everything. There is much for us to talk about Alannah Aine.”

Aine Ashling shivered, hope and fear bloomed in her in equal measure before reality and logic reared their ugly heads, the chances of a man in his early thirties being her father were actually fairly decent, but would he just suddenly appear? Reason dictated not. She took a step back and shook her head as she turned to walk back to the crowd, hoping to lose the stranger and then leave via a different street. And how do I understand Alannah means ‘dear child’?

His voice called out to her, full of pained understanding and wistfulness.

“Please Aine, I know you have no reason to trust me, I know that I have yet to earn it, but I promise you that I never abandoned you, I’ve been here by your side your entire life. I watched on as you made your first sound, as you first opened your eyes, at your first steps and listen to the first word you ever spoke.”

She looked back at him, his expression heart-wrenching as he held out a length of thin silver chain in his hand, dangling at the end of it was a triangular piece of green and gold metal. Aine’s heart thumped in her chest as the amulet she had since birth became warm, like it had found a long-lost part of itself. Suddenly a random thought jumped out of her tangled mind.

‘The best cliché is the oldest one.’

She pulled her amulet out and looked at it. Its form was of a Celtic Knot in the shape of a cross with each of the limbs of the cross being of equal length. The centre of the cross was dominated by a beautiful rough roundish green garnet, while each of the cross’s limbs had a polished amethyst inlayed at the centre of the knots on the limb. If you looked and felt closely you could tell that the amulet was not whole, it was missing exactly four pieces, its true form being a circle, however the amulet seemed to have been intentionally made that way. Which meant that there were four pieces somewhere in the world that fit and were apart of her amulet, why four pieces and not one piece or two pieces she didn’t know.

But Aine looked up and back to the stranger, a man who was presenting himself as her long-lost but ever near father. He did say he would answer all her questions. But the lessons of the modern world haunted her, could this be some elaborate trick, Aine closed her eyes, her emotions overate from repeated highs and lows. Aine clenched her teeth, opened her eyes and straightened her back, staring at the man with a quiet but still fierce determination, her voice firm and rock steady.

“I know a café close by, you have thirty minutes to convince me, if you fail to do so I want you to leave and if I ever see you again, I am calling the police. Agreed?”

He sighed, his expression of pained acknowledgement clearly telling her it was less than he’d hoped for but more that he had expected, he gestured in the direction of the café, clearly, he was aware of the café’s existence already. Whether that was from knowing the area or from knowing her, was up for debate, still, Aine wouldn’t let it shake her decision, she had promised thirty minutes and she would decide on everything after that.

They walked side by side, Aine keeping an arms-length of remoteness between them, for the short distance to the café, her mind running though the questions she had that needed to be answered. After maybe ten or so minutes of walking down the street, lined with apartments and small businesses they arrived at her favourite café, nestled on a street corner. The rich aromatic smell of coffee greeting her, the familiarity reassuring her as he pulled open the door and held it for her. It was jarring that this man, a man that could be her father, had yet to tell her his name, it became the first question she determined she would ask, best that she didn’t stay in the disadvantaged position of him knowing who she was and her without even a clue as to his name. She glanced at the café bar looking for the face of the owner and her best friend, also a fellow ward of the state, Jillian Fitzgreen, and the reason she felt that it was safe to meet her supposed father here.

Jillian worked like a storm behind the bar, almost single handily working the expresso machine and chatting up a storm with the café customers, Aine felt a smile creep out onto her face despite her current personal issues. The green eyes of the man standing beside her followed her gaze and looked between them, his eyes calm and kind, he knew of their close friendship, he also knew that Aine had helped fund the initial start of the café with Jillian with a loan. Jillian had insisted on it being a loan and not a gift, paying Aine back every penny and with interest every month down to the hour. His lips curved into a gentle smile as he watched his daughter, he glanced to the corner of the café, a table had become free as they walked in and now one of the staff had just cleared and wiped it down, so he gave a light cough.

“A table is free in the corner Alannah, they will bring us our coffee there, I took the liberty of ordering for you, vanilla and hazelnut latte, two sugars, full cream milk, with a peanut cookie on the side. A bit sweet but I suppose it is one of your few indulgences.”

His voice clearly displayed his fondness, but Aine suddenly realized that not even her coffee order was safe. And when had he ordered them coffee? And why hadn’t Jillian noticed her yet; Jillian normally has a sixth sense for when Aine would show up. The door behind them opened and a couple walked in hand in hand, the young man using his shoulder to hold the door open, her ‘father’ quickly pulled Aine out of the way just as the couple almost flattened her. Aine almost blew her top at both her ‘father’ for touching her and the couple for almost running her down, when a chill runs down her spine, when it hits her, they couldn’t see her or him.

He is looking at her with kind patience, like a father in peaceful and expectant joy waiting for his child to take their first steps, she stared at him suddenly slack-jawed as it occurred to her that her ‘father’ may not be completely human.

“I’m not, I never was, and that couple is about to steal our table if we dawdle much longer here by the door, not to rush you of course Alannah, I can free up another table if you want to take your time. But it won’t be your favourite spot in the corner if I do, I have limits that I have to abide by at the moment and it will be hard to subtlety influence someone who just sat down to suddenly need to leave. Not impossible mind you but certainly more difficult than making those who have been here a while feel a need to move on.”

Aine stared at him, before turning and quickly walking to the table, sitting down before the couple made it half way across the distance from the door to the table, it was petty, but her not so human ‘father’ was right, this was her favourite table. She stares at the couple as they suddenly change direction in a seemingly natural way and sit at a table nearby, before looking at the calm indulgent smile on the man now siting opposite her that just screamed ‘caring father’. It irked to her to say the least, even if he was her father, not that she thought he was yet, he didn’t get to look at her like that, not before she let him. It didn’t matter what reasons he had, he wasn’t there for her, he had never held her as she cried or cheered her as she triumphed, invisible ghostly presence didn’t count as being a father. Not to her.

His smile dimmed at the look on her gentle featured face, he sighs as he realises that he is still trying to move too fast, his eagerness to be apart of her life after so long on the sidelines was coursing more harm then good for his cause.

“I apologise, I am being overly invasive, it must be uncomfortable for a virtual stranger knowing the things I do about you, no matter the reason he gives, you have been more than generous with your courage and patience in continuing to agree to speak to me. You probably have questions, but before you ask, you have a choice to make. On the one hand, I can give you a normalised truth of the events of your birth and we can pretend that we are both completely human and your life goes on as normal, the strangeness of today a memory we can conveniently forget with time.

“You won’t have to change your life or be involved in the dangers that come from this part of your heritage, but you will also never truly know who you are or where you come from. You will also never have the chance to complete your amulet. I don’t say this to try and force or bully you, I simply won’t be able to hide you from the eyes of others like me if you know who you are. ‘Ignorance is bliss’ is not just a saying Alannah, it has meaning, it can keep you safe, but only if you stay ignorant to your heritage.

“On the other hand, I can tell you everything, from the complete truth of your birth, to the lineage, gifts and dangers you have inherited and the reasons they were hidden from you, but you must know that once you do know everything, I wouldn’t be able to silence the truth of your existence again, you are not a babe anymore.

“Now you can make this choice now and only now, I won’t be able to visit you like this again, not for a long time, maybe even a lifetime, so take your time and ponder what you want and if you want your current life to remain unchanged, because it will be dangerous to tell others, not only to you but to them and not for the reasons you may think. Everyone has a heritage and lineage sleeping in them, it may be many times removed from the source, but it is still there, and times are changing, ancient magic, powers and history are awakening, just as new, wonderful and terrible events are occurring. Heron’s Shadow’s death was merely the start of them and things are bound to chance in way you don’t understand, not yet or maybe ever.”

His eyes were filled with a pained love, the kind where you were torn between what you wanted for your child, Aine stared into them and realised that he truly believed that he was her father, whether it was a fact to her or not was secondary. She also knew he was telling her the truth, his words resinated with something inside her and it wanted to know, it wanted to come out, this other part of her wanted to be free of the darkness, it wanted to take hold of it’s history, it’s past and then seize it’s future.

She took a breath, closing her eyes, the beat of her heart like a giant, battering her ribs in a bid for freedom as she felt the world narrow, a life altering decision was upon her, the classic two roads stretching out before her and the choice was all her own. Breathing out she opens her eyes and stares dead into his, her voice firm with determination.

“You seem to have me at a disadvantage Dad, care to tell me about yourself? You who really are that is.”

His eyes actually glowed, his skin starting to shine, his body broadened and grew, becoming larger than mere human and closed in on starting to look heroic.

“My name is many and to many tribes and clans, to some I am Lugh Lámhfhada, to others as Lleu Llaw Gyffes and many more names and titles besides those to others more. I was once a High-King of the Isles and now a God of the Celtic Pantheon and you, my Alannah Aine are my daughter.”