The heart of the Emerald

Prologue: Nanna Mary

Nanna Mary was a small woman with a big attitude, she could talk the ears off anyone who paid her less than five minutes attention. She loved nothing more than to have her grandchildren around her, all four of them, and was never happier than when she was telling stories of her childhood growing up in Ennis, County Clare, Republic of Ireland. She would sit them all around the fireplace, fill them with sweets and fizzy pop and tell them stories of horses appearing from the waves of the oceans, stomping their great hooves through the sand of the beaches, and galloping up the hills to the woods like they were searching for something specific. She told stories of good fairies that lived in trees and bad ones called sprites which lived in the water; she used this as a warning to keep the children away from the canals and the river that ran along the boundaries of their town. Mostly, she loved to tell stories of her warrior friend Chalon who was so strong he could fight any animal with his bare hands, - even wolves, she would say with awe in her voice. She would enjoy telling them stories of Kings, Queens, and Princes and Princesses and she told them happily that those with Ireland in their blood would always have some sort of psychic or magical power, they only must search for it, at the right time and in the right place for it to be released within them.

When the children asked her why they had no magical power, she would smile and gently tell them that of course they do, they are each very powerful and that one day their power would mature and only when the timing was right, would they find out what their powers were. The children were always very satisfied with this response from their grandmother and would spend hours at night whispering amongst themselves, when they should have been sleeping, about who would be the most powerful and what they wished their powers would be. The boys always wanted to be like Chalon of course, with his strength they could fight anyone that threatened them. The girls however, always wanted to have powers that could move things from one place to another, or powers that could make them fly. That way, they would whisper, they could visit each other in the middle of the night without their parents knowing and go on adventures. On nights like those they would always fall asleep with smiles on their faces and when nanna checked on them, she would see them all peacefully dreaming and feel a sense of warmth in her chest, knowing that in that moment all was well with the world.

Nanna Mary said that the Irish magic came from their ancestors who were the great Celtic Druids. The Druids had passed down their knowledge of astronomy and astrology through generations upon generations, this knowledge was seen as something to be cherished until modern day technologies took over and it became a story of legend amongst today’s Irish folk. Rarely, she would tell the children stories of bad magic and about bad spirits like banshees and Abhartach, which were better known today as vampires. She realised quickly though that the boys would use these stories to scare the girls when they were going to sleep, so she kept them stories to a minimum, yet they were the stories she warned them to remember the most. She would always end the stories about the bad magic with the same phrase, ‘no matter what happens, no matter what you hear or what you may see in life, always remember that you are stronger together. You must always stick together no matter what, family is everything and you can only really trust each other.’ She would stare at each of them intently for what felt like hours after she said it, leaving them all squirming in their seats until she was satisfied that they understood. Her grandchildren would listen intently to her stories, happily absorbing every single word she said, even her warnings, until it was time to go to bed, or home with their parents, who could often be found sat in the back of the room rolling their eyes at every gasp and oohh from the children. Of course, they had heard the stories before a thousand times over and with each retelling of a story, the ending would change that little bit more.

The boys’ favourite stories always involved Chalon and him fighting to protect Nanna Mary from all sorts of different woodland creatures like wild pigs, foxes, wolves, and sharks in the rocky ocean sea. They would also enjoy stories of the prince of the McCarthy clan Conair and how he would become Nanna Mary’s best friend, alongside Chalon of course. Their absolute favourite story, however, was the one in which Chalon would challenge Conair to a fight, because of course Chalon would win any fight, but to fight the prince was always something they thought was brave, especially because it involved saving Nanna Mary from drowning and the repercussions from fighting the prince were the worst they could imagine. Nanna Mary always told her stories as if they were yesterday, mostly she would tell them with great enthusiasm, but this one was always told with a sorrowful tone, one which the children didn’t understand whilst they were still young:

‘Chalon and I were walking in the woods near to the abbey, we were playing pranks on the priests like stealing their washing off the line and hanging it on the branches of trees. This isn’t something you four should be doing by the way.’ she said sternly, eyeing each one of them with her big blue eyes. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘we were in the middle of hanging some of the clothes on a tree deep into the woods when we heard a noise far in the distance, it sounded like someone was in distress, so we went to investigate. When we got there, we found Conair, the prince of the McCarthy clan and his horse, a great stallion of course,’ she rolled her eyes at this, ‘the horse had become stuck in some deep mud, he had jumped over a fallen tree right into it. It was weird as of course we all knew who Conair was and he always had guards with him, so to see him deep in the woods alone was a bit of a shock.’

‘Chalon went straight over to him to help dig the horses hoofs out of the mud, to which Conair didn’t take to kindly; knowing him he would have thought that by some miracle he would have been able to remove the horse from the mud himself, without dirtying so much as a single button on his coat,’ She scoffed, ‘he was a stubborn fool’ She laughed quietly to herself before continuing, ‘I waited impatiently by the great oak tree, which was a way point for us when we were playing in the forest, until I realised that they were squabbling, and that Chalon was about to tell him to stuff it and sort it out himself. Knowing that wasn’t the best idea, he was the prince after all, I went over and said, ‘don’t be such an idiot, why won’t you accept help do you think you are too high and mighty to be helped off some lowly peasant or something?’ Conair was ready to argue with me until he saw the mean expression on my face, and he realised I meant business. He told me later that he had never been spoken to in such a fierce manner before off anyone and if I’m honest he probably hasn’t been since. Needless to say, Chalon helped the prince dig his horse out of the mud, and we decided to invite him to come play pranks on the priests with us. He didn’t want to at first, you could see it in his face, so I called him a prissy pants prince, which soon put the wind up his sails and made him come play. One thing to know about Conair is that he doesn’t like to be bested in anything. I’m certain that this was why he decided he would come with us that day and how he then became the worst pranker of us all.’ She said this last part with a sadness to her voice, but a smile in her eyes. ‘He would do all sorts of things to the priests, nuns and even at times his mum and dad the King and Queen.’ 

‘Like what nanna? Tell us some of the things he did,’ the children would chime. She smiled at them devilishly, ‘well, he would do all sorts of harmless pranks like hiding the queens’ jewels and replacing the sugar with salt on the kings table, but do you want to know the worst prank he ever did?’
‘YES!’ they all screamed at once.
‘No, I can’t tell you, it’s too awful.’ She covered her eyes with her hands.
‘Tell us nanna, please, we will be good forever, please tell us.’
‘I can’t your parents will shout at me.’
‘They won’t, we won’t tell anyone, will we?’ they were all looking at each other. Patrick hit Enna on the side of the arm, ‘don’t you dare snitch Enna, we all know you’re a goody two shoes.’ He said fiercely.
‘Ow!’ Enna shouted rubbing her arm, ‘Nanna, Patrick punched me in the arm,’
‘Patrick James, don’t you dare hit your cousin like that,’ she told him off, ‘even if she is a big great snitch,’ she laughed.
‘NANNA!’ Enna cried.
‘Oh, I am only joking,’ she held her arms out to her,’ come here and let me see your arm.’
Enna climbed over her chair to sit in nanna’s lap whilst she looked at her arm.
‘Okay,’ she held it up and let it flop down, then repeated the action.
‘Hmmm, that’s not good,’ she looked worried and confused which scared Enna.
‘What?’ Enna said clearly fearful at this point.
‘We may need to go hospital and amputate,’ she looked at Patrick who by this point was very concerned, worry was etched on his face.
‘Wh-what? Why would we have to amputate I barely touched her?’
‘Well,’ nanna said letting the arm drop again,’ she can’t hold it up, that’s not a good sign at all, she should be able to hold her arm up.’ She started to stand,’ children, get your coats, Patrick pass me the car keys, we need to be quick so we can save the arm.’
The children all looked panicked and scared, Patrick looked ready to cry and Enna, well, she went a ghostly white colour.
‘I’m so sorry Enna,’ Patrick was saying through his tears,’ I didn’t mean it.’
Nanna Mary burst out laughing at this point and said, ‘oh no, I’m sorry, I was only joking, of course her arm is ok, you barely touched her, but I hope that this teaches you a lesson because next time you could seriously hurt someone especially with that temper of yours Patrick. You must be careful, you’re stronger than you think,’ she said this so sincerely that Patrick sat back down in front of the fire with a thump.

‘That was nasty nanna,’ he said after a while.
‘Yes, well, no nastier than what you did to your cousin.’ She eyed him intensely.
The rest of the children were too gobsmacked to say anything for at least five minutes. When the silence was eventually broken it was by Enna who simply said, ‘so my arm won’t fall off now nanna?’ Everyone burst out laughing at poor Enna who was left rubbing her arm again and looking quite sorry for herself. She looked nanna dead in the face and said, ‘nanna, you shouldn’t play nasty pranks on us, do you know why?’
Nanna Mary looked over to her eldest granddaughter and shook her head, ‘why’s that then child?’ Enna grinned, ‘because there are four of us and that means you will have to always watch yourself now, ‘coz we will get you back for this, wont we guys?’ They all grinned and said, ‘yes, nanna watch your back,’ in chorus. Nanna laughed and with a wink told them to, ‘bring it on!’

That’s exactly what they did, many times over the years, in fact they ended up calling it a prank war. they would prank nanna, who would in turn prank them back with worse pranks than any of them could think up. When Michael was 9 he scared nanna with a Halloween prank that almost sent her into hospital, so the next month when he had promised never to do it again a million times, nanna sent a fake report to his house saying he was failing all of his lessons in primary school and that they were considering sending him back in to year one, he was in year five at this point. His mum and dad were so angry at Michael because it specifically said it was due to poor behaviour that they grounded him and took his X-box off him. It was only when they received his real report through that they realised it was all part of their prank war with nanna that they un-grounded him. Nanna didn’t feel guilty about it, not one bit after what he did to her on Halloween, but she may have regretted it after a while because Michael became the pranker of all pranksters over the following two years as a result.

‘Right, I think that is enough of the story for today, its bedtime,’ Nanna said once they all stopped laughing. ‘No, nanna, please we will be good we promise, please tell us the rest of the story. We want to know what happened?’ shouted all of the children in one go. ‘Oh, my poor ears,’ nanna said dramatically covering them up and throwing herself backwards on the couch. ‘Ok, if you really want to know but remember,’ she looked at them all one by one, ‘snitches, get stitches.’ then she pinched each of them in the side and laughed a great cackling laugh throwing herself backwards again. ‘Alright, alright I will tell you the rest of the story.’

‘We were best friends us three,’ she continued, ‘almost like you four although nothing could break your friendship like Chalon broke ours. One day we were playing down by the bridge the three of us, we were using a rope swing to jump over the river from one side to the other. Which was particularly dangerous as the river was very rocky and the nasty sprites lived near the bridge. We thought we were safe because of the Hawthorn tree. This was where the good fairies lived. We had used that tree specifically to protect us from the water sprites that would try to sing to you to get you into the water, so they could drown you under the bridge.’ The girls gasped in horror whilst the boys sniggered at them. ‘This is why I always warn you not to play near rivers or canals, especially near the locks of the canals as it’s the perfect place for the sprites to live and drag you all under when you least expect it. She eyed each of them carefully and when she saw that Patrick wasn’t paying attention, she clipped him round the head so swiftly you would have thought she was twenty not eighty-two.

‘Patrick!’ she boomed, ‘what did I just say?’ Patrick looked at Nanna Mary all cocky, ‘you said that we shouldn’t play near the canals and rivers, we know nanna you have told us a thousand times before,’ he huffed rubbing his right ear. ‘It’s not the point Patrick, if you ask me to tell you a story then you pay attention, even to the warnings as they are the most important, no matter how many times I tell you, you listen. Now, if you can’t be bothered, I will just leave it there and you can all go home with you mammies and daddies.’ They all in unison shouted, ‘No!’ at the tops of our voices and pleaded with her to continue. ‘Very well then, but I don’t want to find any of you not listening or I will stop.’ ‘Ok Nanna, we promise,’ they all said with a hint of fear in their voices.

‘The good fairies that live in Hawthorn trees have great magic that can heal and protect’ she continued after a great pause to check they were all listening, which of course they all were. ‘You can hear them dancing and singing at night-time if you live near a Hawthorn tree and really, really listen. They are very quiet but if you know what to listen for you can hear it even on a windy night and in the morning If you look at the bottom of the tree, where the roots go into the grounds, you can see the grass will have been flattened where they have been dancing with their tiny little feet.’

‘The day that Chalon and Conair fell out was a very windy day, which we thought was good as it meant we could get across the river on the swing quicker, less chance of falling in with the wind to help you across,’ she winked at Patrick, who giggled in response. ‘Conair had thought it was funny to wobble the branch when it was my turn and Chalon had been shouting at him to stop it or I might fall. I was always a little frightened of heights, but I never wanted the boys to know so I acted like I wasn’t bothered by it. Of course, I was terrified, yet I still pretended to be brave and went for my second turn on the swing. I stepped up to the branch and after a few deep breaths flung myself off. That’s when Conair started to wobble the branch again and whilst I was distracted by my fear, I still heard the sprites over the wind. Singing the most enchanting melody. Their song couldn’t be heard over by the tree because of the wind and so the good fairies didn’t know to help me until it was too late. I was enchanted by their melody telling me to let go of the swing and so I did, and I plummeted into the water.’ Even though the children knew that this would happen, they all still gasped, and Anya hid behind the cushion she was clinging to.

‘I fell deep under the water and that’s when I felt them pulling me and pulling me down, despite my efforts to kick them off they dragged me onwards towards the bridge. I didn’t know until later that Chalon dived in after me, which I of course told him off for as he could have been killed, he was never the strongest of swimmers even though he was the strongest person I knew,’ she said in a sad voice. ‘

‘It was him diving in and fighting the sprites that got me out of the water, I had banged my head on a rock and become unconscious at this point. But Chalon told me later that he had to fight six sprites to get them to let go before I got to the bridge, if I had been taken to the bridge I wouldn’t be here now.’

‘That’s where they hold you down long enough for you to die so they can take your souls,’ both girls were now hiding behind Anya’s cushion. ‘The sprites you see, were bad fairies when they were alive, but they became truly evil when they died. It is of course hard to kill fairies as they are usually immortal, but there is a way and only the bravest warriors know what that is.’

At this Michael asked Nanna Mary the same question he always asked her when she told this part of the story, ‘Nanna, what is it? Please tell us we know that you know!’ Nanna rolled her eyes, ‘Michael, the answer will always be the same answer as it was the time before and the time before that. I do not know and if I did know I would not tell you as that kind of information would be the kind to get you all killed.’ She raised an eyebrow, ‘do you honestly think that the bad fairies would let me live if I knew how to kill them? Or that the good fairies would let me tell their stories and live the life I live with all of you, if they thought that I held information that powerful?’ ‘No, I think not.’ She sighed, ‘the only reason that I am allowed to tell stories to all of you about the magical folk is because I don’t speak of things that I should not. That is a lesson for all of you, some things are too terrible or too important to speak out loud and knowing when to keep your tiny mouths shut is a talent none of you possess yet.’

The boys crossed their arms in frustration whilst the girls looked on baffled, ‘now if you don’t mind, I would like to finish my story off before we are all awake when the birds get up.’ ‘Once I was at home, I spent three days in bed knocked out of it, this is where I got this scar from.’ She pulled her curly hair away from her ear.

The boys always loved seeing the scar on Nanna Mary’s temple, it was in the shape of a star, but the girls always flinched at the site of it, there was something gruesome to it they thought, the boys thought this was hilarious, calling them both prissy pants and getting a swift clip to the ears off Nanna Mary.

‘When I woke up Chalon was there with his bags, he had apparently had a fight with Conair afterwards Infront of the whole town. He beat Conair so badly he had a broken rib, broken nose and two black eyes. Which meant that he had to leave, the King wouldn’t let him stay after he beat his one and only son up despite Conair telling him he deserved it after what he did to me. I couldn’t bare it knowing my best friend in the entire world was leaving me forever. I had tried to ask Conair to speak to the King, but he was always so scared of his dad that he didn’t dare to. This made me tell him that I hated him, which I didn’t, but at that time I was very angry, and I said things I didn’t mean.  I told him I would go with him and despite Chalon telling me that I couldn’t, once my mind was made up that was that. My mam and dad were upset but they understood how much my friendship with Chalon meant and I was eighteen at this point, meaning there wasn’t much arguing to be had. So, that’s what I did, I packed up my bags and left, I never returned to Ennis after that final cheerio to everyone.’ 

‘I went to see Conair first to tell him I forgave him. He was in a bad way because nobody could stand being beaten up by Chalon; he had the strength of the gods on his side even as a young boy. He was still upset by me telling him I hated him and, in a way, I was still angry, but I couldn’t leave my other childhood best friend on bad terms. He had never been bothered by Chalon beating him up, he said he would have taken it a thousand times over to know I was ok. That’s when I asked him to come with us, Chalon wasn’t happy, he told him he would never forgive him for almost killing me and that if he wasn’t worried about upsetting me, he would have killed him dead right there. Conair wasn’t happy at this statement as he saw it as a threat on the life to the future King, and in a bitter tone told Chalon he is glad his father banished him forever and that he would never be a true warrior
despite his strength, because warriors come from nobility not from the streets like Chalon had. He was an orphan and knew that this would hurt Chalon more than any banishing ever would. I tried to make peace between them, but it was to no avail and even if Conair wanted to come, he couldn’t have. He told us in a very proud way that he was the heir to the Kingdom and that meant he had a duty to the people of Munster to stay, running off around the country with two paupers was never going to happen.’ I knew he was saying mean things to make it easier on himself, but it still hurt my heart, it was through many tears that I told him, ‘ok if that’s how you feel about us, us paupers will leave and never darken your majesties great presence again, I wish you well Conair.’ – We left that night and never returned.

‘We became travellers, Chalon, and me. We never saw any part of Ennis again, not the river, not the forest, the monastery or any of the brightly coloured houses. Chalon was never meant to stay in Munster, so we moved often living in the traveller community until I became pregnant with your mamma and had to leave to come to England,’ she looked at Enna with warmth in her eyes. ‘Chalon wanted to come with me, but it wasn’t a wise decision at the time, so I decided to come alone as I had my sister already living over here it made the most sense. I asked the priests to help me find passage on a ship, it was easier back then there were no real passport controls, and you could change your identity quickly, if needed. Off I went with my small suitcase with only essentials in and less than fifty pounds in cash. Your aunt Chrissy was a very nice woman who put me up until I could get my own house, and that’s the end of that story for today.’

She would always end her stories in that way, quickly and to the point like it was too painful to continue even for a second. She wouldn’t allow any of the children to ask any questions afterwards, even though they had many. She would stand up kiss each of them on the nose and go for a cigarette at the front door, whilst they would all sit around talking about how brave Chalon was and how nasty the prince had been to hurt their nanna. All the time they chatted amongst themselves she would listen and gaze up at the sky, deep in her own thoughts. None of them had the courage to ask any questions when they were growing up, but Enna had always been curious, wondering why nanna would need to change her identity and why would she have to go to the priests instead of just going to the docks and buying a ticket to England herself. Mostly, she wondered about Chalon, why would he not be allowed to go with her to England and was he her grandad, if he was her mum’s dad why would he not come with her? As she got older these were all the questions that she regretted never asking her nanna. Surely, she would think, knowing the truth is far better than never knowing at all, even if it's something you don’t want to hear?

The children loved going to Nanna Mary’s especially in summertime when they could play on the front. They were used to sharing a big double bed whilst she slept on the couch in the living room and waking up to her singing Irish songs at the top of her voice, this could be as early as 5 o’clock in the morning but the children never seemed to care, more time to play out and get muddy knees and eat sweets. There were four of them in all, two boys, two girls. The eldest boy being the one to stick up for them and watch out for them if any other children would try to pick on them, the eldest girl being the most dramatic, always singing and dancing and forcing the younger ones to act out plays she had written. The younger two were like twins although they were first cousins and not siblings. They were similar in age and looks and often got mistaken for being brother and sister. They were the two to watch out for, you never knew what they were going to do. They always had fun together and between them they ruled the roost over the neighbourhood and the family. You couldn’t plan anything without inviting all four of them along. That’s why Nanna Mary would sleep on the couch in her one-bedroom bottom floor cottage flat, as she knew she couldn’t separate them even at bedtime.

As the years went by the children would still come to Nanna Mary’s every summer, even as they transitioned from childhood through to their teenage years. Even as the older two became wise to her story telling ways and begun to roll their eyes as she would change parts of the story to get the biggest effect from the younger two. Even as they became more interested in boyfriends and girlfriends and music and dancing, or football and being with their friends. They would still come because they noticed something in Nanna Mary that the younger two didn’t. They noticed that she liked a drink and that as she drank her apple cider she would become more weaker and less able to stay awake later in the night, or less able to wake up early in the morning to sing her Irish songs. This was something that not even their parents noticed until it was too late. You see Nanna Mary was a wonderfully complex woman. She had a childhood that she hid from her children and grandchildren through her storytelling. Sometimes as she became older her previous life would come back to haunt her in ways that meant she would try her very, very best to forget.

One summer’s day the two youngest children came to visit Nanna Mary in her one bedroom, ground floor cottage flat. The oldest boy decided he would go and check on them as he knew that Nanna Mary hadn’t been feeling too well in the days prior to the visit. He told the oldest girl not to bother coming as he knew she was going out that night on a date with a boy she had met at the Mayday fair. She reluctantly agreed after telling him she didn’t mind going, but he insisted. This was a decision the oldest girl would regret for the rest of her life. You see when the oldest boy got there, he found the two youngest children crying in the kitchen, they looked frightened but couldn’t speak to say why. The eldest boy went charging through the flat shouting for Nanna Mary, but to no avail. She was nowhere to be seen. It was only as he tried to call her that he noticed something very, very strange about the two youngest children. There was something odd about their eyes. They were rather large for children who had been crying, who should have puffy eyes and they dark like the night sky, whereas both the youngest children had bright blue eyes. Their blonde curly hair was changing to a darker colour right in front of him. It was at this point that Nanna Mary came bounding through the kitchen door, threw the eldest boy to the far wall with strength much greater than she should have had and threw two daggers one after the other straight at their tiny chests hitting them both with a sickening crunch before turning to the eldest boy.

The eldest boy was stunned and pinned to the wall with utter fear in his crystal blue eyes. Nanna Mary didn’t have time to say anything other than run to him before a great flash of electric blue hit her between the eyes and a mighty whaling sound filled the room. The boy could not move, nor could he contemplate running as he had been told to because the noise forced him to stay still, his eyes widened and the next thing he heard was deafening. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and was dead before he hit the ground. The woman who had made the noise stepped over him and bent down to lift his chin up. She spoke to an invisible person, ‘was that all of them?’ Nobody could hear the reply except her and yet she seemed satisfied by the response. Standing and walking over to Nanna Mary, she said with a deep satisfaction to her voice, ‘You thought that this was it, that this was your time and that you would be able to create further generations of your line without repercussions, you knew better than that Mary.’ With that parting sentence she walked from the room and with a flick of her hands the room was engulfed in a great blue flame, a flame that had the heat of the sun; there was no way anyone could have survived it. The one-bedroom ground floor flat went up in seconds and it wasn’t long after that, that the entire block of flats was entrenched in flames.

They would call it a disaster; the government would launch an investigation into how with all the fire safety regulations they had in place since Grenfell could a block of flats and the surrounding houses be destroyed in under five minutes. They would never find an answer as their regulations were as fireproof as they could be, but every year on the anniversary of their deaths people would gather to remember the old Irish woman and her three grandchildren that perished all due to the grandmother mistake of being drunk on apple cider and falling asleep at the stove whilst cooking a batch of porridge. They would look at the eldest granddaughter with pity and whisper about how sorry they must be for her, the one who had lost her three best friends in the entire world and the one who used to be so outgoing and happy who now spent all her time at home locked in her room, or down the library reading books, never making eye contact with anyone. Or speaking unless spoken to and even then, only when necessary.

It was hard for Enna in the weeks after the fire. She would hear the adults whispering around her about things she didn’t understand. She would hear words like, stab wounds and heart attacks but never really knew what this meant as it was a fire that killed her nanna and cousins. As she became older and her grief became more bearable, she begun to remember those conversations between her parents and the funny looks that her aunt and uncle would give her when she walked into a room, almost like they couldn’t stand to be around her, like it was her fault for not being there as well. Maybe she could have seen Nanna Mary falling asleep at the stove and been able to stop her. Maybe she would have gotten the younger children to play out on the front like she had many times before instead of being inside of the flat? She felt the questions in their eyes and never once spoke of them out loud. But they would keep her up at night often over the years.

Once she reached sixteen, she really began to think about the way people were behaving around her and the questions she had thought about many, many times. It was the questions she had that led her to the newspaper archives in the local library. It was the questions that she had that led her to searching for that fateful early summer’s day in which her entire life fell apart. It was the questions that she had that led her to uncover some facts that she had not known about before, and it was the questions that she had that led her on the journey she would go on that would uncover the truth far beyond anything she could have ever imagined before.