Page 195 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
Myrrdin opened a set of massive stone doors into a rotunda. Its cupola was stratospheric, arched windows offsetting every story and welcoming the moonlight brightening my way as I staggered across the marble floor into the temple’s heart. My soft footfalls echoed like tap shoes.
“What is this place?” I angled right to find a massive frieze carved into the curved wall on our level—a merging of two heads.
“The Kirk of Cara,” Myrrdin answered.
I vaguely remembered Sedge mentioning a place by that name.
“Once known as the Kirk ofAnam Cara, but nobody calls it that now,” Myrrdin continued. “‘Tis a shame, though, as shortening its name mists over its significance.”
I wracked my brain, having heard the phraseanam carabefore—somewhere. I just didn’t remember where—or what it meant.
“Anam carais a Celtic term, Shorty,” Pete explained, seeing my struggle to place it. “Roughly, it means soul friend—soulmate.”
Ilovedknowing soulmates existed. “Any reason it’s called that?” Myrrdinhadsaid its name was significant.
Again, I studied the frieze’s melding faces as Pete replied, “The ancients built this temple to demark Danu’s creation—the first soulmates.”
“But—Sedge said—” Breath abandoned me.
For the first time since he’d discovered who my father was, Pete’s lips curled in a semi-smile. Moonbeams silvered his features and the wayward tips of his hair. “They were Adam and Eve. We’re standing on the precipice of Eden.”
Mind blown here!“But I thought Eden was on Earth.”
Danann circle lessons never delved into the bible, although many of its parables crosscut ours. But I’d taken a college course, The Old Testament as Literature; the good book totally claimed Eden belonged to Earth.
Pete shrugged. “Thought the same myself before I heard it was here.”
“Eden is just beyond the next doorway,” Myrrdin confirmed, steepling his hands. “The garden—Danu’s great test, if you will.”
I blinked. “A test? For what?”
“To ascertain if her new children—her soulmates—were worthy of life in the great new world she’d created,” Myrrdin said. “To see if they’d seek more wisdom than offered.”
What a satisfying answer. I’d always felt Eve got a bad rap for what happened in Genesis. Who wouldn’t want the knowledge of good and evil? For how could one understand the good in their life if they’ve never known evil? Without the comparison, Danu’s “good” would be meaningless. “Danuwantedthem to bite the apple.”
Myrrdin nodded.
“But what about the serpent? If the Goddesswantedher guinea pigs to break her rule about eating from the tree, then the serpent was helping her, not—” I paused, chewing my lip. “Unless the serpent was actually Danu in one of her animal forms.”
I knew Danu could take the form of seagulls, horses, and even fish, but I’d never heard of her becoming a snake.
Myrrdin hummed. “Just as insightful as Ginny too.”
My heart was growing very warm, indeed.
“Correct, princess. Danu was the serpent. She tempted Eve, who passed the test—as you’re aware. Adam—well, he—” Myrrdin chuckled. “He was wrapped around his beautiful companion’s finger and would do just about anything to please her. Hence, they both ate, and Danu cast them out of Eden—onto Earth, her cherished conception—to multiply and be fruitful.”
“If Danu was the serpent,isthere a devil?”
“Oh, but yes, princess.” The high druidic prophet sighed. “Butthat’sa story for another night.”
“Aye.” Pete exhaled. “For now, let’s get you settled.”
Let’s? Is he the concierge?
“After you, princess.” Myrrdin gestured me past him.
On my way, I glanced at him. “Please call me Amy.”
