The Turning of the Year

This story is an entry in the 2026 Halloween contest.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people, businesses, or events is coincidental.

Everybody engaged in sexual activity is aged 18 or over.

© 2026, Writer61

~~~

I was born on January 31st, which, in the year I turned eighteen, fell on a Saturday, so I wanted to have a party with my friends that weekend. However, my mother insisted that we visit my grandmother in Speyside.

"But, Mum, I'm only eighteen once!" I protested.

"You will be eighteen for a whole year. What does it matter if we have your party a week later? You will still be eighteen, your brother will be home from university, and your father will have finished his business trip by then. Besides, it is a special day for Mum and me."

I knew I wasn't going to win that argument.

On Saturday morning, we left Edinburgh heading west on the A90 towards Queensferry, where we joined the M90 to cross the Firth of Forth. After an hour, we stopped at Perth services for coffee and the toilet, then continued north on the A9, into the Highlands. As we passed Pitlochry, I remembered what Mum had said. "Why is today important to you and Granny?"

"We'll explain it to you when we get there," she answered evasively.

Soon after passing through the ski resort of Aviemore, we took the A95, turned off towards Boat of Garten, then followed the narrow B-road to the village of Baile na Coille. It was a prosperous place with a pub, two shops, a distillery, and a school. A familiar thrill ran through me as we approached An Taigh Mòr sa Choille, the Big House in the Wood, which had been in Granny's family for generations. I loved spending time there, roaming freely across the hillsides, over the moorlands and through the woods, even swimming in Loch nan Eas, the Lake of the Waterfalls.

Granny was waiting for us under the porch with Douglas, her ageing deerhound, at her side. "Happy Birthday, Catriona, darling. It is so good to see you both; thank you for coming.

It was time for lunch, so we settled around the table in the spacious kitchen. The room smelt deliciously of baking bread. We ate the meal Granny had prepared. As always, I started with a bridie, a type of meat pastie which was her speciality.

"Granny, Mum said that you would explain why today is special for the two of you."

She smiled and nodded. "I can remember when my mother and I told your mother, and when my mother and grandmother told me. It is a big moment for all the women in our family. We have always followed the old ways, as most of the village does. It is why many bear traditional names and why there is no chapel."

Granny sipped at her tea. "Your mother and I are members of a coven of witches called Cearcall na Coille, the Circle of the Woods, as was my mother before me, and hers before her; a tradition we believe as far back as pre-Christian times. Each of us held the title of Àrd-bhean-fhiosaich, or high seer of the group, as your mother will after me, and you after her, if you join us."

My mother said, "The coven celebrates each of the four major festivals that mark the turning of the year here at Taigh Mòr. In the Celtic calendar, days begin at sunset, and tonight is the beginning of Imbolc, the start of Spring, and our sisters will gather as usual. We want you to join our celebrations, to perform the rituals with us, to learn them."

I was stunned. What were they talking about? It felt like a foreign language, yet something stirred inside me, a feeling that things finally made sense. The sound of a car door slamming broke my reverie.

Granny stood and went to greet the newcomer; Mum leant forward, placing a hand on one of mine, and said, "Darling, I know this is a lot to take in. I vividly remember when I learned the secret. We want you to become a member of the coven. Join us tonight, and I promise that it will feel right."

Granny returned to the kitchen with a blonde-haired woman in her 50s. "Deirdre, this is my granddaughter. Catriona, this is one of the coven members."

"Oh, Ailis, will she be joining us this evening? That must be so exciting," Deirdre said. She hugged each of us, then sat at the table. Now I understood why there was so much food, and wondered how many more women were yet to come.

They arrived in ones and twos throughout the afternoon. I recognised many of them as women from the village. There was Una, who ran the village shop, and her daughter Saoirse, who sometimes helped there; both were raven-haired with sharp features. A brown-haired woman named Bríghid, of about forty, whom I thought taught in the primary school. Then came Tegan, whom I guessed was a bit older. I did not know brown-haired Fionnuala, who was closer to my age. Finally, there was Niamh, a blonde woman a couple of years older than me, whom I had sometimes played with on previous visits. All were happy and smiling, clearly looking forward to the evening's celebrations.

Mum led a group of us to 'prepare the circle', whatever that might mean. We walked along a path through the forest to the old smokehouse. Two of the women stayed to clean it, while Mum, Saoirse and I continued to the ancient burial mound, surrounded by standing stones, in a clearing in the woods. We cleared away dead leaves and laid a bonfire on top of the mound using a pile of logs that had been left there.

"Imbolc celebrates spring, light, and renewal. Cleaning is part of the ritual," she told me.

I laughed, "You mean a festival of spring cleaning?"

"Exactly, but it is common to many cultures. There is something about this time of year that makes people think about renewal, purification, and fresh starts."

We returned to the smokehouse, where the others had finished, and joined us on the way back to the house.

The kitchen smelled rich with cooking and baking. Granny and the rest of the coven sat at the table, drinking tea and nibbling on the food that covered it. She encouraged us all to eat and drink from the bowl of punch she had prepared with whisky, honey, and herbs.

"This will keep you warm tonight, darling," she said.

Instantly, I felt the alcohol warm me, and my body began to tingle. Then she clapped her hands and announced that it was time to get ready for the ceremony. Since it was so early in the year, sunset was in the late afternoon.

Granny asked me to carry a basket laden with fir cones, bundles of herbs, heather, and beeswax candles for use as offerings.

Dusk was falling as we filed along the path to the smokehouse. Inside, white silk shifts hung from pegs in the walls. The women began to undress, and then pull the shifts over their heads. I hesitated, then did the same. As we left, we picked up wooden torches and lit them from a brazier that was burning outside.

Our breath frosted in the moonlight, but I did not feel cold despite my light clothing and bare feet. At the burial mound, we lit the bonfire using our torches and watched it roar to life, its orange plumes licking at the dark sky and casting long, dancing shadows across the frozen earth.

Granny, her voice steady and resonant, began a chant that the rest of the coven immediately picked up. Somehow, I knew what the words were, and what they meant. It should have felt strange, but it just felt normal. We circled the fire clockwise, nine times, chanting.

"Tigh an t-earrach, Tigh an solas, Dùisg an talamh, Dùisg an saoghal.

Come the spring, Come the light, Awaken the earth, Awaken the world."

One by one, we stepped forward to cast an offering into the flames. The fire crackled greedily, releasing the scent of sage and pine into the crisp night, while the golden sparks drifted upward like tiny, ascending stars.

Deirdre poured more of the whisky mixture into a large chalice, which was passed around the circle. When I sipped it, my body warmed again. We toasted to the goddess Brighid and the promise of rebirth, quietly anticipating spring's first green shoots.

As the fire burned down, we circled the bonfire nine more times, then Granny led us back to the smokehouse, where we changed back into our normal clothes before heading to the house.

Mum and I returned to Edinburgh on Sunday evening. During the day, Mum and Granny patiently answered the many questions that crowded my mind. But still, did I want to follow their path into the coven? It was a question that I kept asking myself over the next few months.

As the end of April approached, I had to answer it because the next festival was coming up. It felt like a critical decision. If I didn't go, was that the end, or would it commit me to joining the coven forever? I decided that was a false choice; of course, I could go and choose not to do so again. So, I told Mum that I would come with her.

On the way to Granny's, I asked Mum to tell me about the festival.

"Bealltainn welcomes summer. It celebrates the return of warmth, fertility, growth, and the start of the pastoral season."

"OK, that's why, but what about how?" I asked.

"Well, it's like Imbolc, but with dancing, and some men from the village will join us," she said. "I should warn you that sometimes people have sex."

"What?" I exclaimed. "Are you saying that I will have to fuck someone?"

My mother winced at my language. "No, that is always a choice. But some of the coven may."

"Will you? Have you?" I asked.

She hesitated before answering, "Maybe, and sometimes."

"What? Does Dad know?"

She nodded. "He does, and accepts that it is part of my, well, religious practice."

"Bloody hell!" I said, "But I suppose that makes it all right. Still, it will be weird seeing you having sex with someone."

"Bealltainn is one of the times when the veil between this world and the Otherworld, where fairies and the Aos Sí, the spirits, reside, is thinnest. Some, particularly fairies, may visit our world and try to lure people to theirs, where you will be trapped. You must be on your guard for them."

"You mean be on the lookout for fey women with wings?" I asked.

Mum laughed. "No, fairies with wings are a Victorian invention. You have to watch for sudden stillness or strange winds, unexplained lights, music that seems distant, animals acting oddly, especially horses or dogs, and a feeling of being lured from your path. Carrying iron protects you; that is why your necklace, with the shield knot on it, is made of iron. We will also place bannocks around the circle to distract them."

As we drove through the village, we stopped to watch a group of children and adults parading around a maypole erected on the green. Each person was holding a ribbon of red, white, green, blue, or yellow attached to the top of the pole, where a colourful pattern was being woven.

As the coven gathered at Taigh Mòr, I was surprised by how good it felt to meet them all again, and I wondered why I had ever questioned joining them. Once more, Granny set everyone to work. This time I stayed to help prepare food, some of which we packed into wicker baskets to take to the celebration later. After eating and drinking some of the honey- and herb-enhanced whisky, we headed to the smokehouse, where we changed into our white shifts. Then I realised all the women were wearing a shield-knot necklace like mine.

On top of the mound, we all bent down to light the bonfire laid in the centre of the circle with our torches, then stood in a circle, waiting. From the woods on the far side of the mound, came the sound of drumming, which I recognised as a bodhrán, a traditional Celtic instrument. Soon, we could see a group of men walking towards us, led by the drummer. All wore black shifts, in direct contrast to ours, and carried torches. Some carried baskets, and when they got close, I could see bottle necks protruding. After setting their loads down next to ours, the men joined us in the circle around the fire, standing between each of us.

Granny started a chant that we all followed. Once again, I knew the words and their meaning. We walked clockwise around the bonfire nine times, chanting as we went.

"Teine Bealltainn, las gu sèimh,
Beannachd dhomhsa, beannachd dhìbh.
Fàs is flùr air tìr is cridh',
Solus blàth oidhche gu là.

Beltane fire, burn gently,
Blessing to me, blessing to you.
Growth and bloom on land and heart,
Warm light from night to day."

The drummer started to play again, and we began to dance, hand in hand around the fire, laughing and smiling, eyes reflecting the flames. Then a couple of the men reduced its size by placing sods of grass around the edges, and everyone took turns jumping over it. We cheered each person as they completed the leap. When we were all done, our faces glistened with sweat, and our eyes sparkled with excitement.

With gusto, we fell upon the food and drink that we had brought with us. Scotch eggs and bannocks, smoked salmon sandwiches and oatcakes, washed down by whisky, beer or Irn-Bru according to taste.

I looked around and saw people beginning to pair up. In particular, I noticed Màiri, my mother, cuddling Bran the distiller, but what shocked me was seeing Ailis, Granny, gazing at Hywel the brewer. Of course, I should have expected this, especially since she was the head of the coven, but it still shocked me. Who thinks of their parents having sex, let alone their grandparents?

The hand on my knee belonged to Niall, a young shepherd whom I had always fancied when I met him around the village. He grinned at me as his hand slipped beneath my shift, creeping slowly up my thigh. I shivered in anticipation of what my female friends and I had speculated about many times; now I was going to experience it. Was it his first time too? Would he know what to do?

I spread my legs, granting Niall unobstructed access to my pussy, shuddering when his hand reached its target. He gently stroked the fine hair around my mons. Soon a fingertip found my clit, and he began to rub around it with hardly any pressure. It was an exquisite experience, better than when I did this myself. I arched my back as an orgasm rippled through me.

Other fingers stroked and squeezed my labia, exploring the ridges and folds, teasing the entrance to my vagina; it was simultaneously heavenly and pure torture. I wanted him to continue forever, and to move on to the next stage. At last, one of his fingers ventured further, finally entering me. Slowly he pushed deeper, pulled back, then repeated the movements again and again.

Once more, I was torn between wanting it to go on forever and desperately desiring Niall to take the next step, the ultimate step, that would physically mark my transition to adulthood. There was no doubt in my mind; we were going to fuck, and I looked forward to it.

I stood and pulled my shift off, and Niall did the same. Glancing down, I could see his prick, already stiff. I dropped to my knees and took it into my mouth. The first time I had ever done this. Instinctively, I took it as deeply as I could, and it felt good. I caressed his balls, which were warm and hairy, and was rewarded with a groan of pleasure.

Similar noises filled the air around us.

Lying down on the grass, legs apart, Niall knelt between them, leaning forward, his cock at the entrance to my pussy. I nodded, and he pushed inside me. The warmth of his prick delighted me, and I loved the feeling of him plunging in and out. At last, came the release of orgasm for both of us, and he collapsed on top of me. It was clear that those around us had reached their own plateaus.

Slowly, people gathered themselves. I looked around the circle and saw that the whole coven had engaged with the men, Mum and Granny included. Perhaps I should have been revolted, but I was not; it seemed perfectly natural. As the couples finished, we collected the picnic remnants and returned the way we had come.

Mum and I drove back to Edinburgh the next evening. I sensed Mum was waiting for me to speak first, but it took me a while to be ready.

"Wow," I said. It was the best way to sum up how I felt.

"That's how I felt after my first Bealltainn," Mum said. "It's exciting and shocking, but I love it. It is my favourite festival; I love the sense of renewal."

At the end of July, Mum and I returned to Baile na Coille for the year's third festival.

"Tell me about Lughnasadh," I said.

"It's named for the god Lugh, sometimes called Lugh of the Long Arm or Lugh of Many Skills. He is associated with kingship, crafts, warfare, poetry, and light. The festival honours harvest, community, and, like all of them, seasonal change."

"So, it's like the harvest festival we celebrated at school."

"Not exactly," she answered. "That festival is celebrated around the end of the harvest, whereas Lughnasadh is supposed to mark the first. A better match is the Christian holiday of Lammas, which means "Loaf Mass" in Old English, because it marks the start of the wheat harvest. It's another example of the Christian church co-opting an older festival to make it appeal to people who were used to the old ways."

"Will there be nudity and sex this time?"

"No," she said. "Bealltainn is when that happens, and there won't be any men present this time."

Once more, preparations involved copious amounts of cooking and cleaning the burial mound and the smokehouse. This time, we also made corn dollies to take to the bonfire.

After changing in the smokehouse, we followed the path to the stone circle and the mound in its centre. Around the ring of stones that formed the boundary of the fire pit, we placed one of the loaves of bread that Granny had baked that morning, a chalice filled with liquid, some apples, a small pile of wheat, flowers, and the corn dollies.

We all leaned forward to light the fire. Then Granny called out, "We kindle these flames for the first harvest, for the light that ripens field and fruit, and for the blessings of honest labour."

We repeated the words as we watched the bonfire take hold, orange and yellow flames rising into the sky.

She lifted the bread. "The first harvest is here. What was planted is beginning to ripen. I give thanks for what has grown. Lugh of many skills, master of craft, courage, and achievement, be honoured in this rite. Bless the work of my hands and the path before me."

She broke off a piece of the loaf and ate it, then raised the drinking vessel to her lips and sipped from it. "I offer thanks to the powers of land, sky, and spirit, and to the forces that sustain life."

She carried the loaf and the goblet around the circle, stopping before each of us in turn. Deirdre, standing on my left, took a piece of the bread, sipped from the cup, and said, "I offer thanks to the powers of land, sky, and spirit, and to the forces that sustain life."

One by one, each of us ate from the loaf, drank from the cup and repeated the phrase. At last, Granny reached me. She smiled as I ate some bread, sipped some of the honey-laced cider and spoke the incantation.

Nine times we walked clockwise around the cross chanting.

"A Lugh shoilleir, Soillsich mo shlighe.

Bright Lugh, light my path."

Finally, we returned to the smokehouse to dress, then to the big house where we ate, drank, and chatted. It was strangely normal, just a group of women exchanging news and gossip.

I loved Halloween: the decorations, the dressing up, and trick-or-treating with my friends, but it felt like a childish pursuit compared to the three pagan celebrations that I had already experienced. So travelled back to Taigh Mòr with Mum to celebrate another pagan festival.

"Tell me about the festival," I said as we drove north to Baile na Coille.

"What do you know about All Hallows Day?" Mum asked.

"It's the day after Halloween. It's a Christian holiday, celebrating all the saints or something. Maybe to scare off all the ghosts and ghouls from the day before."

Mum smiled. "Sort of. It's a much older pagan holiday, called Samhain, one of the four that mark the change of the seasons, in this case, the start of winter. Christians adopted it, just with a different name. Like at Beltane, we believe that at Samhain the boundary between this world and the Otherworld is blurred, making it possible to pass through and likely meet the Aos Sí, the spirits, and the dead."

"Will it be the same ceremony?" I asked.

"It will start in the same way, but usually, because of the thinning of the veil between this world and the Otherworld, we can pass through."

"What happens then?"

"It's this world, but different," Mum said. "Better, nicer, but in a strange way. You feel more alive, but you know that you should not stay there, without being able to say why."

"Sounds like taking drugs," I said.

Mum glanced at me. "How would you know?"

"You know that I can read and that we have a television, don't you?" I replied sarcastically.

She laughed. "Touché."

"What about fairies? And sex?" I asked.

"You always have to be on the lookout for fairies. But sex isn't part of it."

At Taigh Mòr, we found Granny bustling around the kitchen, which was full of the smells of cooking and baking. Una and Saoirse were already there helping with preparations, and the rest of the coven arrived soon after us and set to work.

Preparations continued all afternoon. As before, Mum led some of the group off to prepare the circle, and the rest of us remained in the kitchen preparing food. When the others returned, Granny encouraged everyone to eat and drink some of the flavoured whisky. Then we followed her to the old smokehouse, where we undressed and put on the usual white silk shifts.

The sky was clear, and the night was cold. I was conscious of my nipples stiffening, poking against the thin material of my shift. But I did not feel cold; something protected me from the chilly air.

Once more, we had laid a bonfire in the firepit on top of the mound. We all bent forward, applying our torches to the kindling, which burst into flame and spread to the logs.

Nine times, we walked clockwise around the fire, torches aloft, chanting.

"Samhain oidhche, oidhche nan spiorad,
cuiridh sinn fàilte air an dorchadas, 
agus air solas ùr na bliadhna."

Again, I knew the words, and what they meant:

"Samhain night, night of spirits,
we welcome the darkness,
and the new light of the year."

Mists rose around us. Suddenly, a figure, a tall, bearded man, wearing a black shift, appeared behind us. The coven dropped to their knees facing him. My grandmother spoke, her arms aloft, imploring him, "Lord Dagda, thank you for answering our pleas; we are here to honour you and your kin."

She fell forward, prostrate on the ground; the others did the same, so I did too. My mind was racing. Who was this man? Was Dagda his name, or a title? Had he really come from the Otherworld, whatever that was? If not, where had he come from? What would happen next?

"Ailis, you want to enter the Otherworld?" he asked in a booming voice.

"Yes, Lord Dagda," my grandmother replied.

"Will you accept the geis, whatever it might be?"

"Yes, Lord."

"What's a geis?" I whispered to Tegan beside me.

"It's something that you must do, or may not do, while you are in Otherworld. If you do not comply, you will be stuck there. The catch is that you will not know what it is until you are there."

"Have you been?"

"I have; it is a wonderful place, and I would accept any geis to visit again."

"Stand," Dagda commanded. He pointed at me and said, "I see a new face."

"Yes, Lord. This is my granddaughter. It is her first Samhain." Granny said.

"Follow me," he said, and led us down the far side of the mound to the tunnel that led inside. Instinctively, I had always hated the place, but after my brother Ruaridh taunted me, I had reluctantly been inside several times. But this was different. I felt a mixture of fear and anticipation.

One by one we walked through the tunnel, still carrying our torches. For the first time that night, I shivered, wondering what I had let myself in for. Inside the mound, we stood in a semicircle before Dagda, who gave a mischievous grin.

"Your geis is that a man must penetrate you while you are in Otherworld, but no partner may be shared."

The whole coven gasped.

"Does it matter who with?" Granny asked.

"No, you may choose whom you share your body with," he said.

"Can it be with you, Lord?" Saoirse asked.

"If you wish. Now follow me."

He led us out of the mound through the same tunnel, but we emerged into daylight. Blinking against the bright sunshine, I took in a transformed landscape. The clearing was richly dotted with wildflowers, the buzzing of bees and the calls of songbirds filled the air, and a young deer peeked at us from the edge of the woods. The normally austere slopes of Creag Dubh were green with grass and bushes.

Dagda announced. "Welcome to An Saoghal Eile, the Otherworld."

"Mùch na lasraichean!" he cried, and our torches went out.

"Will you lift my geis, Lord?" Saoirse asked, removed her shift and faced him. "May I undress you, Lord?"

"You may," he said, but he was so tall that he had to help her.

His cock was as long and thick as his body, and I wondered if she would be able to take it. It was already starting to grow as she knelt in front of him, took it in her hands, and wrapped her mouth around the tip. The rest of us stood and watched closely. Slowly, she took more of it into her mouth, then pulled back, leaving it glistening with her saliva. She moved her head forward again and pulled back. Then she repeated the movement, swallowing a bit more each time, until she could manage no more.

As she sucked his cock, Dagda stood unmoving, looking down at her. When she pulled back and glanced up at him, he understood what she wanted. He placed his massive hands beneath her arms, lifted her off her feet, and lowered her slowly onto his cock.

I saw her eyes widen and her mouth gape. She gasped as he lifted and lowered her again and again, with increasing speed, until it was clear that she had come. He raised her off him. From the cum running down her leg, it was clear that he had also finished. Gently, Dagda laid her on the grass.

The giant's voice boomed, "You should leave this place and seek to fulfil your geis. I will remain here and take you back when you are ready to return."

We helped Saoirse to her feet and put her shift on again. Granny led us back along the path towards the smokehouse. Before we got there, we met a man carrying an axe and an adze.

"Madainn mhath," he said, bowing slightly.

"Good morning to you too," Granny replied.

"Where are you fine ladies going?" he asked.

"We have a geis to fulfil," she told him.

"Ah, that is a serious burden. Can I help?" He offered.

"Actually, you can." She turned towards the rest of us and cocked her head, her question obvious. Cautiously, Deirdre raised her hand, then stepped forward.

"Sir, what is your name?" She asked.

"I am Fintan," he answered.

"Would you fuck me, Fintan?" she asked hesitantly.

The forester roared with laughter. Wiping tears from his eyes, he said, "Now, that is indeed a burden that I should be happy to help with. Should it be here, now, in front of these others?"

Deirdre glanced around, and then nodded. Even before she had removed her shift, Fintan had his trews down and stood, hands on hips, his cock rapidly stiffening. She lay down on a grassy patch beside the path, and the forester fell upon her. He was enthusiastic and brief.

Returning to his feet, he asked, "Can I assist any more of you?"

We all shook our heads. Even if sharing a partner had been allowed, I suspect we would have given the same response.

We continued on our way, and Fintan on his. When Taigh Mòr came into view - a larger, grander Taigh Mòr - we met two men talking. Both doffed their bonnets and greeted us as the forester had done. We repeated the same words in response.

"Can we help you, lassies?" asked the man on the left, who seemed more important. A gamekeeper and a shepherd, or estate worker, I thought.

Hearing my grandmother called 'a lassie' sounded odd to my ears, but she was not bothered by the word.

"Aye, you can, if you would share your seed with two of my sisters here."

The two men looked at each other, astonishment clear on their faces.

"Surely, you jest," the more important man said.

"We do not, good sirs. Strange as it may seem, this is a geis laid upon our company by the Lord Dagda."

Niamh and Bríghid both stepped forward, sweeping their shifts over their heads.

Bríghid, who was the elder of the two, approached the gamekeeper; Niamh faced his companion. Both men were wearing kilts, which they lifted. My sisters knelt, taking their cocks in their mouths. After a while, when the men were fully aroused, they broke away.

Niamh pushed the shepherd onto his back and swiftly mounted him. However, Bríghid chose to kneel on all fours, her rear towards the gamekeeper. Soon both couples were vigorously engaged, their moans and grunts drowning out the noise of the birds and the bees. Once more, the rest of us stood and watched.

By now, I was very conscious of my own excitement.

The growing noise from my sisters and their partners broke my reverie. With a shock, I realised that I had been touching myself, and the front of my shift was marked with a damp patch. Looking around, I saw that I was not the only one carrying such a stigma.

It was clear that both couples were close to finishing. When they did, their cries doubled in volume. Surely the noise would bring others to investigate, but nobody appeared. We helped our sisters collect themselves, then headed down the path past Taigh Mòr and down the track towards the village.

Although we were all barefoot, no stones troubled us. So far, it seemed that the Otherworld was a more benign version of the world that we had left. Would it be so bad to remain here forever? It was tempting, but I knew there must be a downside.

"This place seems too good to be true," I said to Una, who was walking beside me.

"I always think the same thing when I visit. There must be a catch, but I have not seen it yet," she replied.

"Have any of the coven stayed behind?"

She nodded. "There are stories of that happening, but it has never happened since I joined."

"How did you get involved?"

"Like you, my mother was a member, and she introduced me. I think that is the same for all of us. Certainly, I always wanted Saoirse to join. Membership of the coven strengthens you in ways that are hard to be certain of, let alone describe, but I have never regretted it."

She laughed, "What happens in Otherworld stays in Otherworld."

Further down the hill we met a young man carrying a fence post and some tools. He had weathered features and a bushy beard, and was wearing a kilt.

"Madainn mhath," he said.

"Madainn mhath," we replied.

Granny said, "Excuse me, Sir. What is your name?"

"Aonghas, dear lady. What brings you and your friends to Baile na Coille?"

"We are visiting Otherworld," she answered.

He laughed, "I thought I could see a geis in your auras. They can be a heavy burden, and you should take care to follow them."

"Thank you, Sir; we take our geis very seriously."

My mother stepped forward and spoke to the crofter. "You could help me lift my geis, if you are willing?"

"What would that involve?" he asked, quite reasonably.

"Little effort and pure pleasure on your part, I promise," she purred, seductively. Then stepped close and kissed him. Bending down for a moment, she slipped a hand under his kilt, then resumed kissing him. Aonghas was not shy about using his hands either. One disappeared beneath her shift, and the other grasped a breast.

Suddenly, my mother pushed him backwards, and his kilt flipped up, revealing his erect cock to the rest of us watching. Still, it wasn't long before it disappeared in my mother's cunt, only to partially reappear as she rose, then disappear again when she dropped down. Faster and faster, their moans and cries grew louder, until their orgasms stilled and quieted them. When they had recovered, both stood; their outer layers dropped down, and that was all they had to do. I knew Mum had screwed one of the men at Bealltainn, but I hadn't witnessed it.

We continued along the track and entered the village, where we found an inn called An Damh Ruadh, known in our world as the Red Stag. Inside, the man behind the bar greeted us, and the customers turned to look.

"Uisge-beatha for us all," my grandmother said. The innkeeper set ten glasses on the bar top, uncorked a bottle of whisky, and poured a generous measure in each. We all downed our drinks in one go, and replaced our glasses on the counter, where they were quickly refilled.

As the first swallow of alcohol burned inside me, I looked around the room, assessing the other customers; apart from a druid, all were working men.

Granny looked at all of us. Here was a chance for all of us to fulfil our geis.

Fionnuala approached a man in a butcher's apron, a smile upon her face, which he returned. "Hi, I'm Fionnuala," she said, then simply pulled her shift over her head, revealing her breasts and cunt.

"Er, I'm Tormod," the man said, then scrabbled to remove his own clothes, assisted by Fionnuala.

Tegan stood before a stocky man with a soot-smeared face wearing a leather apron. Perhaps a blacksmith, I thought. Seeing what the butcher was doing, he followed suit, quickly shedding his own apron while stammering that his name was Lachann.

Una stepped close to a man with woodworking tools in his apron, presumably a carpenter.

Grandmother stepped behind the bar. Obviously, the innkeeper was a quick learner and said, "Er, I'm Pàdraig."

That left two men for me to choose from. An older fellow, who I thought might be a druid, and a young chap, his face smeared with stone dust, a mason perhaps. Instinctively, I preferred the younger.

He smiled devilishly as I approached him.

"Catriona, stop!" my mother cried, confronting the mason. "I know you; I still feel you inside me. You are trying to trick my daughter into breaking her geis."

The druid laughed. "I see it now; you are a Sith, and she has seen through you. Begone before we drive you out."

The man scrambled away and ran out of the inn.

Mum turned to me. "I realised that he was the same being as Aonghas, the crofter, that I fucked on the way to the village. If he had penetrated you, you would be stuck here forever."

The old man bowed to me. "I am Eóghan. May I offer myself to help lift your geis?"

I gasped. "You know of that?"

"I do. I can see it. Do not be afraid. I will be gentle."

I glanced around the room. Everywhere, my sisters were either coupling with the men there or watching what was happening. Clearly, this was my moment; I did not want to be the last to fulfil my geis.

Since moving my virginity to Niall at Beltane, I had screwed several other young men, enjoying each encounter, but I had never imagined having sex with an older man; however, I knew that his experience should help him satisfy me. Nodding to the druid, I pulled off my shift as he shrugged off his cloak, removed his shirt, dropped his trews, and pulled off his boots. We stood before each other naked, his cock visibly stiffening.

I lay back on one of the tables, spreading my legs to allow him to approach. He spat on his fingers and used them to tease my clit and labia. His fingers were rougher than Niall's, but as long as he touched me softly, that increased my pleasure. He spat on his fingers again, then slipped one, then another, into my cunt, repeatedly sliding them in and out with increasing speed until I was gasping for him to fuck me.

He withdrew his fingers and moved closer, grasping a breast with each hand, squeezing and kneading them, tweaking the nipples, harder than I thought I would like, but strangely, I did. Then, when his cock touched my labia, I shuddered in response.

"Fear not, young one," he said. "I know what I am doing; you will not regret this."

He was right. As his cock entered my cunt, I felt a shock ripple through my body. His power exceeded the mechanical effect of his cock driving into me, and I soon climaxed, but he had not finished, so he kept going, driving me to ever higher peaks, before I felt him empty himself deep inside me.

Around us, my sisters were close to finishing, or collecting themselves afterwards. The innkeeper was pouring whisky or beer as people desired. At last, grandmother gathered the coven together, and we headed back up the track to the big house and beyond.

Granny led us back along the track to the mound beside the stone circle in the forest. There, as night fell, we found Dagda waiting for us, lying back among the lush grass after remaking the bonfire and refreshing our torches.

"Welcome, ladies. I can tell that you have fulfilled your geis and may thus return to your world if you wish."

Granny spoke, "That is what we want, Lord. We value our time here and look forward to visiting again, but it is not our home."

The God nodded. "Then there is one thing that you must do, which is to dance around the fire."

He pointed to the bonfire and spoke an incantation:

"A theine naomh, èirich a-nis,
Le teas na grèine, le neart na talmhainn.
Las an lasair seo romham,
Le solas, beatha, agus dìon."

It burst to life, and Granny led us around it, moving in time to unheard music. Mist began to rise, gradually obscuring the sky. Dagda handed each of us a torch that we lit from the fire.

"Follow me," he commanded, and led us to the entrance of the burial mound.

As before, we stood in a half circle in front of him. He nodded and told us that we could return. Granny bowed and said, "Thank you, Lord Dagda."

She led us back through the entrance tunnel, where we emerged into nighttime. Was it the same night, or the following one? I did not know.

In the old smokehouse, we donned our normal clothes, then returned to Taigh Mòr, where we drank many drams of sweetened, spicy whisky and tucked into the food we had left on the table.

"What day is this?" I asked. "I mean, how long have we been away?"

Granny smiled. "It is the same night that we left. We have lost no time in this world, but we have gained time in Otherworld. It is said that you could spend a week, a month, or longer there and return on the day that you left. But I know of nobody who has tested that.

~~~

Authors Note

Thank you for reading this far. Please leave a rating and some constructive criticism.

Thanks to my beta reader: WannabeBecca.