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King Bran Macfabale ruled a small Irish kingdom, but the weight of his crown brought him no joy. He wandered the wild coastline, longing for something beyond feasts and disputes. One night, as laughter echoed in his hall, Bran slipped away into the moonlit fields. There he heard a haunting otherworldly music, unlike any harp or pipe. The melody promised release from sorrow, drawing him deeper into the night.
Entranced, Bran followed the sound to a moonlit clearing. The music grew stronger, wrapping around him like a spell. Overcome, he sank to the grass and drifted into a magical sleep. The world faded, and Bran stood on the threshold of a dream more vivid than life. His journey into the unknown had begun.
In his dream, Bran met a radiant woman from Tir na Nog, the land of the ever young. She spoke of a paradise, eternal spring, endless joy and freedom from pain.
When Bran awoke, a silver branch from her world lay beside him, chiming with unearthly music. He brought it to his hall, and the woman appeared again, visible only to him. She sang a song of invitation, Gather your companions, sail west, and seek the land of promise. The branch was proof her world was real. The adventure called to Bran's soul.
Bran's mind was set. He would leave his kingdom behind. He shared his vision and the silver branch with his closest friends. Inspired, three companies of nine men pledged to join him. They built three courics light and swift and gathered provisions. The day came. A crowd watched as Bran raised the silver branch and led his men to the sea. The boats caught the wind, turning west toward the unknown. Ireland faded behind them as they sailed into legend.
The promise of the other world pulled them onward. Their old lives slipped away with every wave. The great voyage had begun. For days, Bran's fleet sailed the endless ocean, leaving the mortal world behind. On the third day, a chariot raced across the waves. Manannan Mac Lir, god of the sea, appeared.
He revealed the sea as Magmel, the Plain of Delight, where waves were flowers and fish were frolicking animals. The other world, he said, was hidden in plain sight, layered over their own. Mannanen sang a prophecy, islands of joy and women awaited but dangers too. His words filled Brand's men with awe and purpose. With a nod the sea-god vanished into mist. The voyagers pressed on, guided by his vision. The boundaries of reality had shifted.
Soon they reached an island where laughter never ceased. Islanders greeted them with wild, contagious joy. Inis Subai, the Island of Joy. Bran sent a companion ashore. The man was swept into the crowd and overtaken by endless laughter. He forgot his friends, his past, everything but joy. The crew called to him, but he was lost, another laughing face in the crowd.
They realized the island's magic consumed the mind, not the body. To land would be to share his fate. With sorrow they left their friend behind. The first peril of the other world had claimed one of their own. The voyage continued, marked by loss. Joy, they learned, could be as dangerous as sorrow. The sea beckoned them onward. The cost of wonder was real.
The next island was lush and welcoming, Tir Namban, the land of women. The Queen greeted Bran, casting a magical thread that drew their boats ashore. The men were paired with the island's women, Bran with the Queen herself. Feasts, music and love filled their days and nights. Food and drink never ran out. Sorrow and toil vanished.
Time lost meaning. What felt like a year passed in bliss. They did not age or hunger. The world they'd left faded to a dream. Paradise seemed complete, the quest fulfilled. The men forgot hardship and ambition. The land of promise was real, and they were its guests. Eternity stretched before them, peaceful and bright. But Paradise, too, would be tested.
Yet one man, Necton, grew homesick, longing for Ireland's green hills. His sorrow spread, awakening memories in the others. The spell of paradise began to crack. Bran agreed. They would try to return home. The Queen warned. Centuries had passed in Ireland. Do not touch its soil, or time's weight will claim you. With heavy hearts, the men prepared to leave. The women wept as the voyagers departed.
The Queen's warning echoed in their minds. They sailed east, torn between two worlds. Home was close, but danger closer. The dream was ending. Ireland's coast appeared, but the people on shore saw only strangers. Bran called out, but his name was legend. He and his men were relics of myth.
Nektand desperate leapt ashore. Instantly he withered to dust. The Queen's prophecy fulfilled. Horror gripped the crew. They could never return home. Bran, heartbroken, told their story to the people on shore. They carved their tale in Ogham on standing stones. Bran and his men turned west, vanishing into the sea. They became legend, wandering forever between worlds. The voyage's price was everything they'd known. Their story lived on, a warning and a wonder.
The king who sought paradise became a myth and the sea kept its secrets.
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