Curse Of The Chosen One
The year is 1746. On a late summer afternoon in the Scottish Highlands, a young wife and mother, Isaboe McKinnon, falls asleep in a faerie ring and is unwittingly transported to the realm of the fey.
Terrified and confused after returning from a place of which she has no memory, Isaboe discovers that her husband is dead, her children are gone, and life as she knew it has been stolen from her. Twenty years have mysteriously passed like a summer’s breeze, yet she hasn’t aged a day.
Fortunately, Isaboe receives help from a woman named Margaret, who as a young girl she had befriended, prior to her mystifying disappearance. In an attempt to put the pieces of Isaboe’s life back together, the two women undertake a dangerous journey across Scotland to find what has become of Isaboe’s now-adult children; a son and daughter who believe she died twenty years ago.
In a time of great political unrest, the raw and rustic Scottish countryside is the backdrop for this romantic saga that artfully blends the magic of the fey into the lives of unsuspecting mortals. Dusted with faerie glamour, Curse of the Chosen One is a mesmerizing tale sculpted from the resilient strength of the human spirit, and from a love that will not be denied.

I propose to speak about fairy-stories, though I am aware that this is a rash adventure. Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold.
The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of a traveler who would report them. And while he is there it is dangerous for him to ask too many questions, lest the gates should be shut and keys lost.
Excerpt taken from: The Tolkien Reader written in 1938