Lucius and Aífe had begun a hidden, silent courtship in the very midst of their training. They stole glances in the evenings around the central hearth, and on the rare occasions when they passed each other on a forest trail, their eyes kindled a fire that neither dared give voice to. It was a secret pleasure shared only by smiles and wondering looks as slowly and inexorably the spark of their first meeting grew into a steady flame.

Both were thoroughly dedicated to their studies, but, despite the warnings of their teachers, each carried the image of the other in a hidden recess of their mind. It was as if a sweet melody played in the background of their awareness, never quite forgotten. Because they had both arrived on the island under strange circumstances, each felt that their meeting was a minor miracle, a part of the gods’ plan, and every night as they lay on their separate beds they wished the other well and wondered how the other was progressing in his or her tasks.

One afternoon, Aífe stared into the middle distance as she crouched on the ground, abstractedly grinding wheat berries in a quern that sat on the grass before the women’s house. She was remembering the lesson of cride and imagining a private afternoon with Lucius in the flower-scented forest clearing when she was brought back to reality by a very businesslike voice.

“Aífe,” said Bébinn crisply. “Pack your things for another stay out-of-doors.”

They rolled up their extra clothing and tarps, but this time also hung sharp hatchets from their belts. They would need these to cut saplings to fashion a small round hut twined with leaves and bark against the rain. Bébinn also brought a shovel. They walked through the woods to a huge slab of bare rock just north of the Druid settlement. The rock lay at a steep angle and was perched high enough so that by sitting on top one could see above the tree line.

They spent the first day gathering saplings, placing the butt end of each one into a hole and bending it towards the ground to fix the opposite end into a hole about eight feet away. The eventual result was a beehive structure into which they wove more saplings and leafy branches in and around the sides, to make it waterproof. Then they built a shallow, wide cooking pit outside of the shelter by lining a square of clay soil with flat stones and building up a wall of flat stones around the edges.

Bébinn planned to set snares in the forest to collect small game while Aífe practiced her assignment. The game would be cleaned and gutted, wrapped in grasses, and set to boil in the pit, which would be filled with water. She would bring the water to boil by dropping in rocks heated to a red glow in the fire.

The fire pit was added last, constructed under a slight overhang of rock to protect it from the rain. When everything was ready for a long stay, the instructions began.

“Today’s lesson is called súil inmedónach. It is the test of inner vision and inner sight. We have already talked about serpent wisdom. This lesson is another aspect of that way of knowing,” Bébinn said.

They clambered to the top of the projecting rock and settled themselves into the ancient cross-legged seated posture, with each foot resting on the opposite thigh.

“Start by putting your hands in the usual gesture of concentration; curl your forefinger into the tip or first joint of your thumb and extend the other three fingers, and let your hands rest open upon your thighs.”

Aífe had a lifetime of meditation practice and settled herself easily.

“Now close your eyes and open them again, just slightly. Bring your awareness to the middle of your forehead, between your eyes, just above the root of your nose. Can you find the spot?”

“Yes, I feel as if my body has made a triangle with the point between my eyes as the top and my crossed legs as the base,” Aífe replied.

“Exactly right. Your body should be as relaxed and centered as if you were a sack of grain. When you pick up a grain sack from the top, all the weight falls to the base. That relaxed stability gives your mind the freedom to center and focus.

“When you concentrate on your third eye, the point between your eyebrows, you automatically bring energy there. Do this whenever emotions threaten to overwhelm you or when you need to gain the altitude to contemplate a problem dispassionately. The third eye is the witness, the part of you that watches your thoughts, hears your words, and notices what you are choosing to see or focus on at any given moment.

“I know that you have experienced the imbas, the sudden flash of poetic insight. Imbas can happen at random—for example, during meditation or when we are just falling asleep or upon waking. But if you learn to focus on your third eye, you can consciously work with imbas, see the Otherworld, and receive its messages at will. An opened third eye will also allow you to better sense the gods, the Sidhe, and the land spirits and see their pathways in the landscape.

“You must develop this skill in order to function effectively as a Ban-Drui; otherwise, emotion might cloud your judgment. As Druid, we must be deeply grounded and keep a strong connection to everyday reality, even as our heads are in the sky world. Do you understand?” Bébinn asked.

“Oh, yes, I do. Ethne calls that oak wisdom—having your roots deeply in the ground while your branches are in the sky, attracting the lightning and attention of the gods. All the while you must be strong enough to feed the people, as the oak does with its nuts; warm the people, as the oak does with its firewood; and provide the people medicine, just as the oak does with the gift of its leaves and bark.” Aífe remembered the lectures she had heard on this subject at the Forest School while sitting under the large oak tree.

“Ethne often told us that unless we could find something reflected in nature, it simply was not true. ‘Three candles illumine every darkness: truth, nature, knowledge,’ she liked to say.”

“She is a wise one, your Ethne,” Bébinn observed. “On a spiritual level, an open third eye will aid you in finding forgiveness and in letting go of anger and resentment, because it gives you altitude and perspective on life’s trials that fosters nobility and generosity of spirit. An open third eye also dissolves false conditioning and ingrained habits of thinking.

“Bringing your awareness to your third eye also helps in problem solving. Seeing the world through the lens of the third eye shows you a third way when you are debating two opposite ideas. It will help you find an answer that you had not thought of when you are caught between two opposite choices.

“Use your third eye to practice transcendence, to control your ego and mind. And as you watch your thoughts, notice what your focus is on. Are you focusing too much on your self, your own welfare? Are you forgetting the needs of the tribe, of the whole of life?

“As a woman, you are well aware of the monthly cycle of the moon and the cleansing that happens through the shedding of blood. Use this practice to purify and renew your mind and your spirit, just as your shed blood purifies your body. If you do this practice diligently, it will also give you the psychic ability to see auras and foresee the future.”

Bébinn left her then on the perch of rock poised between land and sky.

Aífe practiced for many hours until she achieved a deep trance state. Hunger and thirst no longer mattered. Each time she felt a pang, she returned her awareness to that central point between her eyebrows. The smell of Bébinn’s cooking did not move her, so strong was her focus. A full moon rose in the east, casting deep shadows from the treetops onto the surface of the stone upon which she was seated, but Aífe did not see it, so deep was her inner gaze.

At one point she had a vision of seeing Lucius, but it wasn’t quite him. At first the figure she saw was dressed in princely garb. Then she saw him again, dressed in a coarse brown robe and singing or chanting with a large group of men, also dressed in brown. The image was so vivid it was a lucid dream, brighter and stronger than waking reality. She jolted back to awareness of the hard stone beneath her, still radiating faint warmth from the afternoon sun.

“Aífe, it is time to come down now!” Bébinn was calling from below.

As they sat by the fire, Aífe told Bébinn what she had seen. Bébinn took in her words but did not comment and handed Aífe a wooden bowl of rabbit stew.

“Try not to dwell on your vision. It will make sense over time,” was all Bébinn said.

At dawn, after they had woken and washed their faces in a nearby brook, Bébinn took yet another stone from her pocket. It was dark blue, with tiny flecks of silver and white shot through it.

“This is yet another gift for your crane bag. It is lapis, the indigo stone that opens the light of the inner eye and protects inner wisdom and judgment.”

“It is like the night sky filled with stars!” said Aífe, delighted.

She spent three more days and nights practicing bringing her awareness to her third eye while holding on to the indigo stone.