Of Padraic And The Serpents
Of Padraic and the Serpents
Author Unknown
Translated from the archaic Latin text dated approx. 550 AD, by H. Granger
In the days before the Dark wizard Padraic returned to our shores, magic flowed unfettered in Eire. The tribes of magic users dwelled in coexistence with those of Muggles, and those of us with the Gift were respected and sought after. Many of us were adopted by mighty clans to be revered Seers, Priests, and Warriors. We protected the minor Fair Folk and the Selkies from danger; we guarded the tombs of our ancestors. Bards sung our praises, and we were a peaceful, happy people.
But then Padraic, who had been raised a slave in one of the warlike clans and fostered by a practitioner of Dark Arts, challenged our existence. He was garbed in the robes of the Light, but his heart was bent on vengeance. He aroused suspicion of our ways in the hearts of the Muggles, preaching to them of a new God who looked upon our ways with disdain. He brewed fear and discord wherever he went, alienating us further from our Muggle neighbors. We knew it was time to take things in hand.
I was chosen to represent the wizards of Eire. Firstly I strove to speak with Padraic. He would hear none of my entreaties. He repelled me with a curse of great pain from which I needed much time to recover. He had great power, more fierce than any I'd encountered, and that power was focused by his words. He spoke in a language that rang with command. Mighty words... Latin words.
The next time I met with Padraic, it was to challenge him to a duel for control of my homeland. I called on the spirits of my ancestors, the powers of the elements and our nature spirits to fortify me. It was all for naught. With those Latin words of power, I was shamefully defeated. When word got out to the Muggle populace that Padraic meant to drive all the serpents from Eire - all the magic users - we were forced to flee. Even our strongest warding charms did not protect us from Padraic and his growing mob of bloodthirsty followers.
The Tuatha de Danaan granted us passage into their world to escape and regroup. We were in shock, a broken people reviled by all who once held us dear. Many of us fled to the Highlands across the sea, seeking asylum from our Pictish brethren. Those who did not wish to leave our homes, stayed and surreptitiously learned the magic of Padraic, the Latin of his tongue. We set up hidden communities disguised as burial mounds and stone monuments. Life was difficult and we could not protect our Selkies from misuse by Muggles, or honor the nature spirits as we once did. Even I have grown disenchanted with living under the sway of the Dark Bishop.
Soon I too will leave for our enclave across the sea. My house will bear the banner of a serpent upon a field of green, as a reminder of our displacement.
I will teach my kin the Latin of Padraic, and we will grow in power equal to his. One day we will be revered again. One day we will know our former might. And we will have our revenge.