Glass Eyes

On a pearl-lit night in ancient Ireland, Aisling, a young member of the Tuatha Dé Danann, wandered alone on the shores of a tranquil lake.

Her heart was heavy with grief, for she had recently lost her sister, her closest confidante and companion. Aisling walked slowly along the water's edge, her thoughts consumed by their memories together, as a breath of fog rolled over the pebble beach and enveloped her in a cool mist. She closed her eyes and set her mind to her senses, feeling the moisture settle on her skin. As she inhaled, it left a salty, loamy sensation on her tongue as if she were breathing in the landscape itself, earth and water intermingling in the air.

When she opened her eyes again, she was startled by a dark shape that had appeared just beyond the veil. Wiping the cloud from her lashes, she noticed a horse standing in the shallows of the lake. Its coat was a liquid obsidian, reflecting the moonlight in a way that seemed otherworldly. Aisling approached the horse hesitantly, mesmerized by its aura of melancholy. Its eyes were like pools of onyx, seemingly filled with a sorrowful depth that mirrored her own grief.

The horse lowered its head as she approached, but as she reached out to touch its mane, a wave of emotions surged through her, and tears filled her eyes. It nuzzled her, its touch strangely comforting, as if it understood her sorrow and wanted to share in her pain.

With a mixture of trepidation and longing, Aisling climbed onto the horse's back, drawn in by its gentle nature. The horse's movements were graceful and fluid, as if it were an extension of her own being. She felt a strange sense of connection to it, as if it could truly understand her and provide solace in her time of need.

Though as they moved further away from the shore, Aisling noticed subtle changes in the horse's demeanor. Its eyes seemed to glaze over, and its once deep, mournful stare turned glassy and more intense. The horse's movements became more erratic, and as they picked up speed, Aisling began to feel a growing sense of unease.

In panic, she tried to dismount, but to her horror, realized that she could no longer move her feet. The horse’s flesh and its dark, obsidian coat seemed to swallow her legs, pulling her deeper into its body as its form shifted and reshaped beneath her. Desperate, Aisling screamed, her cries echoing through the night, but the horse galloped back into the lake, pulling her down into its depths. The waters closed over Aisling, and her cries were silenced as she and the each-uisce vanished into the dark loch. The surface remained calm, and the moon returned to cast its gentle light upon the water.