Ar maidin samhraidh, bhí an ghrian ag taitneamh go láidir ar Aillte an Mhothair.

On a summer morning, the sun was shining brightly on the Cliffs of Moher.

Bhí na héin ag glaoch, agus sciatháin na gaoithe ag damhsa tríd an aer.

The birds were calling, and the wings of the wind were dancing through the air.

Bhí Maeve agus Cillian ag siúl an cosán, a súile lán le fiosracht agus imní.

Maeve and Cillian were walking the path, their eyes filled with curiosity and unease.

Chuala siad scéalta faoi thaistealaí a d'imigh gan rian, rud a spreag friotal Maeve chun gníomhú.

They had heard stories of a traveler who vanished without a trace, which stirred Maeve's words to take action.

“Níl cuma ar bith air sin, Maeve,” arsa Cillian, a aghaidh lán le hamhras nuair a d’éirigh an falaise níos garbh.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Maeve,” said Cillian, his face full of doubt as the cliff grew rougher.

“Caithfimid an rud a dhéanamh le heagla.”

“We must act cautiously out of fear.”

Ach bhí Maeve chainnteach agus ní raibh aon smaoineamh aici éirí as.

But Maeve was talkative and had no intention of giving up.

“Chonaic mé rud éigin neamhghnách an lá cheana,” ar sí, a guth ar bharr gearáin.

“I saw something unusual the other day,” she said, her voice tinged with insistence.

“Ní mór dom an fhírinne a lorg, Cillian.”

“I need to seek the truth, Cillian.”

Thug siad aghaidh ar an aill, na tonnta ag bualadh an chreig síos fúthu.

They faced the cliff, with the waves crashing against the rocks below them.

Le gach céim, d’éirigh an cosán níos contúirtí.

With every step, the path became more dangerous.

Fuair Maeve nóta beag ag tromlach an chreagáin.

Maeve found a small note at the edge of a crevice.

Bhí an scéal neamhchothromach agus aisteach, ag rá le rún éadrom faoi pholach thar an mheara.

The message was mysterious and strange, hinting at a secret hidden beyond the air.

“Níl deis ar bith againn, an bhfuil muid i gcontúirt mór?” arsa Cillian, ag iompar aire go diamhair.

“Is there any chance we're in great danger?” Cillian asked, carrying an air of mystery.

Ach lean Maeve, a chroí ag rá léi a leanúint.

But Maeve continued, her heart urging her to keep going.

Thaobhaigh Cillian léi, cé nárbh é a dhóchas é.

Cillian sided with her, even though it wasn’t his hope.

Lean siad draíocht na nota, ar aghaidh go dtí go bhfuair siad clochchomhdhéanamh aisteach.

They followed the magic of the note, continuing until they came upon a strange rock formation.

D’fhéach sé cosúil le rud ar bith a chonaic siad roimhe seo.

It looked like nothing they had seen before.

Agus ansin, oscail an pluais roimh a súile.

And then, a cave opened before their eyes.

Isteach sa phluais, bhí fianaise faoi imeacht an taistealaí.

Inside the cave, there was evidence of the traveler’s disappearance.

Bhí an fionnachtain uafásach agus dochreidte.

The discovery was horrifying and unbelievable.

Léiríodh scéal ar snámh idir an dathúil agus contúirteach.

It unveiled a story floating between the beautiful and dangerous.

Ach chosain siad a gcara leo, ag tuiscint go raibh roinnt rúin díreach níos fearr fágaite, mar scéalta.

But they kept their discovery to themselves, understanding that some secrets are better left, like stories.

Nuair a d'fhill siad ar an sráidbhaile, níor roinn siad cad a d’aimsigh siad.

When they returned to the village, they did not share what they had found.

Thuig Maeve anois tábhacht na cúraim agus an chothromaíochta.

Maeve now understood the importance of caution and balance.

Choinnigh Cillian meas nua ar intuition Maeve.

Cillian had a newfound respect for Maeve's intuition.

Agus bhris taoide na n-aillte, ag roinnt scéal teochta eile leis na héin.

And the tide of the cliffs broke, sharing another warm tale with the birds.

Ar na hoícheanta ciúine, d’fhéach siad ar a chéile, ag fios go raibh rudaí níos mó ná mar a bhfaightear isteach go minic.

On quiet nights, they would look at each other, knowing that there was more than often meets the eye.