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been set.
    Surely this was meant for my father and not for me. I looked at Bram and found him watching me. His head gave only the slightest of nods.
    Tentatively, I took the ring. I held it in my small fingertips, raising it toward the light and marveling as the sapphire sparkled in the lamplight. Gently, I slid it onto my finger. Instantly, I felt the all too familiar hum begin to echo in my bones. I placed it back on its wrapping, breathing heavily with confusion. I turned to my parents, seeking their reassurance, but found them otherwise occupied.
    Bram had given my father two new books, a gift he considered worth more than was measurable. To my mother, he’d given a delicate gold and diamond cross, as well as a note indicating that three bolts of expensive fabric would soon be arriving for her directly from Paris.
    It was with reluctance that I tur ned my head away from my parents’ happiness to look again at Bram. He eyed me expectantly. The shadow of the ancient being I’d seen before lurked plainly in his eyes. I was sure of it, he had known what I’d felt when I’d put the ring on my finger. But my parents had not noticed a thing.
    I swallowed heavily, looking away from his relentless stare, and back down at the ring on the paper. That was when I discovered his second gift, the twisting iron chain of a necklace.
    I was afraid to touch either of them.
    Bram’s voice then came to me solidly, though it wa s scarcely more than a whisper. “The chain is for the ring to hang upon, to be worn always around your neck—until you are able to wear it upon your finger.”
    I raised my eyes to his, and noted that they were now only sli ghtly softened. They still were lit like embers. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. When he did speak, it was with an air of gravity. “Keep it close, lad. You will find that it will help you focus. To magnify your abilities. You may also discover that it will serve as a shield to you when you have nothing left to give.”
    I cocked my eyebrow up at him in question. To my surprise, I watched as Bram silently lifted his hand from under the table, and placed it upon the table’s surface.
    On his own finger was a similar, but uniquely different, sapphire ring.
    He remained motionless as he regarded me scrupulously. Finally, in that moment of deafening silence that grew between us, he offered only the slightest of nods, before bringing his examination of me to an end.               As if it our private exchange had never taken place, he removed his hand from the table and once again hid it beneath.
    And then , whatever the spell was, it was broken.
    “Oh, Daine!” my mother exclaimed as she finally noticed my gift.
    Her hand rose to cover her mouth in her surprise. Her amazement had drawn the attention of my father away from the pages of his books and to me. He looked at the gift with wide, dark eyes, and then looked at Bram with astonishment. His eyes only briefly darted to my own before they locked again onto my ring sitting on the table.
    M y mother carefully reached along the table and took the ring in her long fingers. I winced as she touched it, expecting her to experience the same sensation I had. But nothing happened. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the stone and the Celtic pattern aloud.
    My father then stood and reached across the table to my mother, who reached her hand toward him and gently placed it in his waiting hand. He looked at it while he sat, his face warring with emotions. No one said anything as we watched him, waiting for him to speak.
    “Bram, this is quite the birthday gift for a five-year old boy,” my father said humbly while staring deeply into the ring’s large sapphire.
    Bram simply shrugged and gave a slight smile when my father momentarily glanced up at him from under his concentrating brow.
    Father cleared his throat. His voice was graveled. “I’m sorry Bram, but I cannot allow Daine to accept this. This is too