Bhí na scamaill ag luascadh thar ceann an fhásaigh foraoiseach, ag tarraingt scáileanna móra ar feadh na talún fliuch le duilleoga órga an fhómhair.

The clouds were hovering over the forested wilderness, casting large shadows across the wet ground with the golden leaves of autumn.

Bhí Cian, fear óg a raibh paisean láidir aige d'eolas agus d'fhinscéalta, ag siúl go misniúil romhainn.

Cian, a young man with a strong passion for knowledge and legends, was walking forward determinedly.

Cé gur lean a chairde, Maeve agus Liam, é ar an turas seo, bhí amhras orthu.

Although his friends, Maeve and Liam, accompanied him on this journey, they were doubtful.

Bhí séasúr Samhain buailte, agus bhí an dorchadas ag druidim leis go mall.

The Samhain season had arrived, and darkness was slowly creeping in.

"Cá bhfuil muid, Cian?

"Where are we, Cian?"

" a d'fhiafraigh Maeve, iarracht ag baint amach an scáthán papéir atá ar a dtugtar mapa.

asked Maeve, attempting to reach for the paper mirror known as a map.

"An bhfuil muinín agat fós sa leathán seo d'ár n-oidhrí?

"Do you still trust this sheet of our ancestors?"

""Tá," a d'fhreagair sé.

"Yes," he replied.

"Tá gealltanas ann.

"There's a promise in it.

Críochnóidh muid ár dturas.

We'll finish our journey."

"Bhí an foraois dlúth, gach crann cosúil lena chéile, an deatach ó na duilleoga dóite ag imirt ar a gcéadfaí.

The forest was dense, each tree looking alike, the smoke from the burnt leaves playing on their senses.

Ní raibh am ar a dtaobh acu, agus bhí sé de dhualgais orthu áit a aimsiú sular thit an oíche.

Time was not on their side, and it was their duty to find a place before night fell.

"Caithfidh muid dul níos faide isteach," a dúirt Cian, a fhios aige go raibh an dán fásta ag croílár a shinsearthachtaí.

"We need to go further in," said Cian, knowing the destiny was entwined in the heart of his ancestry.

Bhí a shuim sa Timthriall Clocha níos mó ná amhras a chairde.

His interest in the Stone Cycle was more than his friends' doubts.

"Níl aon rud ann," a d'áitigh Liam, ag piocadh suas cnaipeáin de deucaisen as a chos.

"There's nothing there," argued Liam, picking up a button of deucaisen from his shoe.

Ach lean Cian ar aghaidh, ag glanadh air féin.

But Cian continued, clearing his own path.

Bhí intinn a shinsearthar ag meabhrú leis ina chluasa, an amhrán agus a bhfírinne.

The spirit of his ancestor echoed in his ears, the song and its truth.

Cé nach raibh siad le feiceáil, fuair Cian compánacht iontu.

Although they could not be seen, Cian found companionship in them.

Gan chuimhneacháin, bhí sé caillte óna chairde.

In moments, he was lost from his friends.

Mar a bhí an sú!

What a sight it was!

Clocha móra dianacha, scéalta na sinsir scríofa go síoraí orthu.

Large steadfast stones, the stories of the ancestors eternally inscribed on them.

D'fhéach Cian thart, a chroí buailte go tapa.

Cian looked around, his heart beating rapidly.

Séasúr Samhain.

The Samhain season.

Bhí sé ann, ann sa Timthriall Clocha.

He was there, in the Stone Cycle.

Bhí an spiorad láidir thart air, ag tabhairt cúram an tsaoil.

The strong spirit was around him, taking care of life.

Smaoinigh sé ar a shinsear agus a nasc leis an ré órga sin.

He thought of his ancestors and his connection to that golden era.

Bhí íogaireacht ann, láithreacht nár mhothaigh sé riamh cheana.

There was a sensitivity, a presence he had never felt before.

Sheas sé ansin ar feadh cúpla nóiméad, sáinithe leis an stair.

He stood there for a few minutes, immersed in history.

Bhí ceol i bhfad i gcéin, ag cur a chuimhne air go raibh an saol fós ann.

Music echoed from afar, reminding him that life still existed.

Bhí sé in am filleadh.

It was time to return.

Chuaigh sé ar ais ag triall a chairde, ag iompar an spioraid nua de dhúchas leis.

He went back to his friends, carrying with him the new spirit of heritage.

"Bhí sé fíor, tá nasc againn ann!

"It was real, we have a connection there!"

" a scread Cian agus é ar ais.

Cian exclaimed upon his return.

D'eagraigh siad tine bheag i lár na foraoise, ag ceiliúradh a dturas agus a ndúchas.

They organized a small fire in the middle of the forest, celebrating their journey and their heritage.

Bhí siad ann agus an oíche ag teacht isteach, ag mothú níos gar do stair agus stair a gcultúir.

They were there as night approached, feeling closer to history and their cultural past.

Bhí an teagmháil sin á gcumhachtú.

That touch empowered them.

Bhí Cian á scíth, a raibh mothú críochnaitheachta ag gobadh dó.

Cian was at ease, with a feeling of completion enveloping him.

Fuair sé páirt i stair nach ndéanfaí dearmad riamh air, á hárú ann agus samhlacha a shinseartha á choinneáil beo.

He became part of a history that would never be forgotten, anchoring him there and keeping the ancestors' legacy alive.

Bhí an Samhain seo speisialta, agus bhí breis grá ag Cian dá n-Oidhreacht agus dá Thír.

This Samhain was special, and Cian had a newfound love for their Heritage and Country.

Bhí a fhios aige, ó anois ar aghaidh, go raibh i bhfad le fáil amach fós.

He knew, from now on, there was much more to discover.