The Isles of Bliss were not what Fionn had been led to expect—the dwellings hard and harsh, full of crude, dead fabrics and witchlight to see by.
He looked at the woman as she lay sleeping, at the gentle, soft curves of her, beneath the veiled light of the moon and sighed. One woman is, after all, much like another in sleep.
No man could deceive the fairy folk and live, that was known by all, but if he didn’t understand the words of the enchantment, did that not mean it had no hold upon him? There was only one way to find out.