A Sidhe-Ouro Tale of the Prince of Cats

Larger than any other cat, black as the night, cunning as any fiend, and silent as a passing soul; Of the origins of the Prince of Cats, there are many beliefs. A common one declares it to be the oldest, wisest, and most powerful of cats walking the plane. Another swears that the Prince of Cats is not one being but many, a haunt of soul-stealing fiends. Still others stipulate that it is a fey lord, under a powerful enchantment or curse. (This version, in particular, has certain salacious alterations to it, in which the Prince chooses the form specifically to infiltrate the homes of naive young people in order to seduce them) Regardless of its true beginnings, the Prince seems to truly exist, and the effects of its appearance are well known all throughout Sidhe-Ouro.

As true sights of it are sporadic at best, tales surrounding the Prince of Cats are likely little more than folk-tales and myths passed down through the years. The most common is as follows:
There once was a young woman by the name of Enyde, who was much loved by her family and neighbors. Each day she would rise before the sun to make her way through the surrounding villages in the hills, delivering letters and parcels between them. She carried only food for the day, a bag for her missives, and a lantern to light her way home at night. Many days her path took her an entire day, and the moon would be high upon her arrival home.

There lay an old, abandoned cottage on the road leading to Enyde's home village. Despite its age it was sturdy and clean, and Enyde was fond of resting there on nights when she would not be able to arrive home in a timely fashion. One night, as she approached the door to the cottage, she was startled at the sight her lantern revealed: a great black cat, perched on the roof of the cottage. He gazed at her with eyes that seemed to dimly glow with a pale blue light, and he seemed to smile. "Traveler," he purred. "What do you seek at my house at this late hour?" His voice sounded like a stream in summer, and Enyde felt welcome.

Taken aback, but never one to reply roughly unless warranted, Enyde replied, "Good sir cat, I merely seek a place to rest until the sun; then I assure you I shall hasten on my way, and trouble you no longer."
"Very well, good traveler" the cat responded. "I thank you for your honesty and kindness. As my thanks, look to the forked tree, and find yourself a prize as red as blood." And with this, he leaped over the roof and vanished.

Enyde entered the house, finding a roaring fire and a table well set with an evening meal of humble bread and vegetables. After contenting herself, she lay and slept soundly til morn. Upon sunrise she noted that the table had been fully laid with a fresh meal of rich meats and rare fruits, and clean, rich new clothes had been laid out; but she left, true to her word. Quietly, she mused over the strange words of the cat from the night before.

Now, on her path home, there lay a dead, forked tree by the side of the road, a dark hole at its center. As she passed it, she remembered the cat's words, and went to the tree on a whim. Reaching inside, her hand pulled out a small, glistening ruby, as red as blood. Not believing her good fortune she rushed home to her family. The gem bought them sorely needed clothing and food for the coming winter, and they were happy.

Several days later, Enyde once again made her way to the cottage, and once again was met with the cat on the roof, with his eyes of ghostly glowing blue. "Good traveler," he purred. "Once more you arrive on my doorstep; what do you seek at my house this this late hour?" His voice was as sun shining on melting snow, and Enyde felt warm and familiar.

"Only your hospitality once more, good sir cat," Enyde replied. "I shall make my way home with all haste come the sun."
The cat smiled, stretched, and said "As you were true to your word on our last meeting, stay once more with my blessing. As gratitude for your word, watch for the cloven stone, for a gift as black as nightshade." And with that, he bounded over the roof and was gone.

Enyde again found the cottage complete with fire and a full table. It stormed heavily that night, but she slept soundly and safely, and it passed her by. The next morning, however, she lingered longer than she had before, and partook of the fresh food that had appeared; it was much better fare than she had ever had in her life, or was likely to have again. Noting the same rich clothes as last time freshly laid out, she reasoned that if they were still there, the owner must not desire them greatly; and she put them on, making her way home.

Along her road home, Enyde noted a boulder that had stood by the roadside since before her mother's time. It had been struck in two by lightning in the storm the night before. Heeding the cats words, she rushed to the stone, pulling away the burned pieces. Beneath she found a black opal, radiant in the afternoon sun. She rushed homeward, and there was much rejoicing between her and her family.

Days passed, and once again Enyde found herself at the cottage, excited at the prospect of a night's good rest and a full meal. As she had now come to expect, she was greeted by the cat once more. "Traveler," he softly growled. "What more would you seek from me at this late hour?" His voice was the sound of rain on a burial ground, and Enyde felt cold.

"Good sir cat," she trembled. "Might I impose on your hospitality once more? I shall leave on my rising."

The cat gazed at her, his eyes glowing cold and wavering. "You seek welcome after you break your word, and after you take from table and clothing unbidden?" He sat still, the rain seeming not to touch his fur. "Very well; I shall afford you one more chance. Stay the night, take not what is not yours, and keep to your words. Keep to the road, come morning. I would ask one thing, for my own assurance, however: what is your name, traveler?"
"Enyde, good sir," she replied.
"Thank you, Enyde," he smiled, and once more he jumped over the roof, leaving her alone in the rain.

That night there was no fire, and no food on the table. The rain came down in sheets, continuing into the morning; Enyde slept fitfully. On waking, she realized the table was now set once more with a wide variety of foods, and new clothes laid out, with a heavy cloak against the rain. Hungry from the night before, she ate until full, and clad herself in the new clothing and cloak.

The rain was merciless and the road an unforgiving mire, having turned to muck beneath the downpour. Coming to a section of road along a high bluff, Enyde saw that it had been heavily swamped; to continue on the road would mean wading up to her waist. Not wanting to sully her new clothes further, she instead turned to follow the trees along the side of the hill's face; but the ground was weak and her footing unsure, and she fell, tumbling into a deep gully.

Enyde cried out in pain, her leg broken from the fall, her face and arms cut from branches and rocks. With much effort she managed to pull herself up and rest against a tree, seeking any kind of shelter. She lay there for some time, weeping beneath the tree and rain, unable to continue on or cry for help.

How long she lay there she did not know; but when she opened her eyes again the sun had set, and she could hear the padding of paws on the ground. "Traveler," the cat purred. "Once more you take what is not yours and break your word, imposing on my goodwill." His eyes glowed a bright blue, and light smoked its way out from betwixt his lips and teeth. He opened his mouth, and Enyde gazed into a deep and unnatural light, into a cloud of swirling and changing faces and forms. She wanted to scream, but her voice failed her, and she felt as if her very spirit were leaving her. As light snaked out of her mouth and nose, pouring into the cat's waiting eyes and mouth, he smiled. "You have taken from me, Enyde, and so I shall take from you." His voice was the sound of a thousand uncaring centuries and a thousand lost traveler's voices, and Enyde felt cold.