I opened the book of Celtic myths, expecting the familiar comfort of stories I'd heard in childhood. Instead, I found myself reading accounts that felt less like folklore and more like historical records—tales of shape-shifters and ancient pacts, of curses that bound mortals to inhuman forms, of love that could transcend the boundaries between human and beast.
How remarkably... relevant.
The stories were beautifully illustrated with woodcuts that seemed to move in my peripheral vision, depicting scenes of transformation that were both terrible and magnificent. Warriors who took wolf form under the full moon. Women who spoke with ravens and commanded the loyalty of wild things. Bargains struck in desperate moments that echoed across generations.
Is this coincidence? Or is someone trying
