Something was wrong with Eachtach. It was hot, it was icy cold separated from the light, burning piercing deep within her. Her hands were bound with chains behind her. Sounds of uncountable others in flames and chains surrounded her. The air was heavy with suffering.

When finally she managed to pull her eyes open, she saw a raven with three heads in front of her.

It opened its beak and made a sound, almost like words, but it was too loud and echoing for Eachtach to be able to comprehend it. It kept going, strange pounding noises drilling into Eachtach’s head until finally she was able to understand it.

It said “You don’t belong here.”

After what felt like ages, through the fire, Eachtach managed to open her mouth to ask “Where am I?”

It kept talking, but refused to answer her. In three voices in unison it said “There are new gods in the surface world. Greedy gods who claim to take what is mine. You are one of mine.”

As it kept talking Eachtach saw something shimmering in the fire light behind it. Her sword, her damascened blade that cut through Fionn Mac Cumhail’s shield, was behind the three headed bird.

“The doors are open, if you were really one of mine you would leave.” The raven said.

It flew away, the slow and steady beating of its wings were louder than any of the screams or rattling chains around her. It echoed deep into Eachtach’s chest.

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Eachtach moved forwards, pulling on the chains behind her. Even as the cold burn of the fire struck deeper at her she kept pulling forward, towards her sword. The Raven’s wings were beating heavily in her chest. And the chains broke.

When Eachtach was free she looked around her, the Finna, hundreds strong, were around her. They saw her moving away from her chains and began to pull on their own bonds.

Soon enough the sounds of the hunt, the barking hounds and yelling, began to replace the sounds of fire.

And Eachtach with her sword in hand climbed upwards. Out of the strange cave and the strange fire, with the open sky of the surface world always above her.

When the others saw them, the great hunting army of the Fianna, if they could they broke their chains and joined it. They joined the climb all behind Eachtach.

And when the many eyed and many winged monsters moved to stop them Eachtach found they bleed just as well as she had.

And finally, finally, Eachtach pulled her way to the surface. Those behind her kept going, translucent and changed and no longer of the surface world, but still yelling and hunting and moving despite it.

On that surface world, in the cave where Eachtach pulled her way out, she saw the raven again. It had changed since Eachtach last saw it, a raven in one look, a three headed woman the next, fire red and feather black, she was looking at Eachtach.

“You will not join them,” she said. “They are not alive any more, but the land still needs its heroes. When the land is in its greatest hour of need, when it needs most for heroes to return, that is when you will arise again and hunt alongside your battle brothers and sisters.” Her voice was still loud and pounding, like many warriors speaking in unison.

“Close,” Eachtach said, “I won't be alongside them ma’am, when I come back I intend to lead the Fianna.”