Braithmound
The Stone That Listens, and the Grove That Speaks
Hidden deep in the high valleys of the Veil of Moar, where the land folds like old cloth and frost lingers even in spring, lies Braithmound — the most sacred site in all of Clan Arthfael. Neither temple nor fortress, it is a place shaped as much by reverence as by stone, where druids speak not to gods but to the earth itself.
At its center stands the Braith Stone, a monolithic black slab streaked with quartz veins, older than the clan and possibly older than the Clans themselves. It leans slightly to the west, as if listening, and bears carvings in three languages — none of them still spoken aloud. Around it rises a circle of standing stones, each massive and unmarked, placed so that on each solstice and equinox, sunlight or moonlight falls perfectly through the central ring. The sanctuary is surrounded not by walls but by a grove of elder pine and bent ash, thick with lichen and birdsong. The trees are said to shift with the seasons, revealing new paths only at certain times of year. It is in these woods that offerings are left, and it is from these woods that Braithmound draws its name: braith, in the old tongue, means both “change” and “truth.”
High Druid Cennedig the Stoneborn is known to retreat here before any great decision. He does not speak when he arrives, nor when he leaves. Instead, he sits cross-legged before the Braith Stone, sometimes for days, until a sign comes — the crack of frost, the fall of a branch, the murmur of loam beneath his staff. When he rises, the elders say, the land has spoken through him. Rites performed at Braithmound are quiet, solemn, and slow. Fires are kindled without words. Songs are hummed, never sung. Blood, when spilled, is buried beneath moss and ash. The bones of great leaders are interred in the grove’s roots, their names carved into stones left among the trees — not to mark their resting place, but to give their wisdom back to the earth. It is said that those who visit Braithmound with false purpose feel the ground shift beneath their feet. That no compass turns true within the grove. That if one listens closely near the Braith Stone at dusk, they will hear not wind, but breathing.
To Clan Arthfael, Braithmound is not a holy site in the sense outsiders might understand. It is the heart of their memory, a place where the clan listens to itself, through soil, silence, and stone.
“Words crumble. Stone remembers.” — High Druid Cennedig, departing Braithmound after the Night of Red Frost
Type
Village
Location under
Owner/Ruler
Owning Organization
