Enya reclines in a red velvet dress in the great hall.
The fire burns brightly and the candles cast flickering shadows into every corner.
"It is time" she thinks.
She rises from the chaise longue in one fluid motion and moves towards the fireplace, above which hangs a large mirror in an ornate jewelled frame.
All at once, the candles gutter and the fire falls back to a red glow.
She looks into the mirror, and as she stares the reflection in the mirror slowly changes. The years melt away, and a young woman stares back at her.
What paths will she take? All possibilities are open again, all lives still to be lived.
And then in the darkness behind her reflection, she sees them. The points of light, some steady, some flickering; some moving, some still. Some pure white, some pinkish, bluish, yellowish, greenish. They are the spirits of the departed; some recently, some so so long ago.
And she knows that if the listens as hard as she can, she will hear the music. The music they use to communicate. With each other, and maybe with those living who are able and willing to hear.
But what is it that they are saying? What is their message? This, this has been her life's work.
Tonight, though, the music cannot be heard. A wind whistles in the chimney and rattles the windows. Rain on the panes, not the soft summer rain, but harsh rain hammering, demanding entrance.
She sighs, and the fire roars back and lights up the room. The reflection of her younger self is replaced. One candle lights on the mantelpiece.
She takes the candle in her hand and moves across the creaking floor to a door in the corner.
She ascends the stone spiral staircase and opens the door at the top.
The wind howls and the rain pours, and yet as Enya walks out onto the roof of the tower her dress and her hair are unruffled and the rain cannot touch her.
She raises her arms and sings. One short, pure note. The storm calms. The wind ceases. The rain stops. The clouds disperse and stars appear in the dark sky. She allows a fine mist to settle on the velvet of her dress.
She remembers that she has forgotten to do the ironing.