Ag siúl ar bharr na nAillte Mhothair, bhí Ciara, Eoghan, agus Niamh.

Walking along the top of the Aillte Mhothair (Cliffs of Moher), were Ciara, Eoghan, and Niamh.

Ní raibh an oíche aon ghnáth oíche.

It wasn't just any ordinary night.

Oíche Shamhna a bhí ann, agus bhí an ghaoth ag séideadh go láidir.

It was Oíche Shamhna (Halloween), and the wind was blowing strongly.

Bhí dathanna an fhómhair ag damhsa tríd an aer, leis an duilliúr donn agus órga ag imeacht leis an gaoith.

The autumn colors danced through the air, with the brown and golden leaves taking flight with the wind.

Bhí eagla ar Chiara, ach bhí fiosracht ann freisin.

Ciara was afraid, but there was curiosity too.

Bhí i gcónaí mothú éigin dioscónánach aici faoina clann.

She always had a certain unsettling feeling about her family.

Mhothaigh sí gur chóir go mbeadh a fhios aici rud éigin, rud sábháilte ina croí.

She felt she should know something, something safe in her heart.

Ach bhí Eoghan ciúin mar shíol gach uair a d’fhéach sí air le ceisteanna.

But Eoghan was as quiet as a seed every time she looked at him with questions.

"Niamh, níl mé cinnte faoi seo," a dúirt sí, cé go raibh fios aici go ndearna Niamh dearmad ar eagla roimh.

"Niamh, I'm not sure about this," she said, although she knew that Niamh had long forgotten fear.

"Tá sé in am," a bhí freagra Niamh, ag brú Ciara chun a bheith misniúil.

"It's time," was Niamh's reply, urging Ciara to be brave.

Agus í ag siúl i dtreo Eoghan, bhí a croí á bualadh níos tapa.

As she walked towards Eoghan, her heart was beating faster.

"Inis dom, Eoghan," ar sí.

"Tell me, Eoghan," she said.

Bhí Eoghan ag féachaint amach thar an aigéan.

Eoghan was looking out over the ocean.

Rinne an gaoth séideadh ard, ag déanamh ceol dhorcha mister Oíche Shamhna.

The wind howled, creating the dark music of Halloween night.

Thóg sé am náire ar Eoghan, ach ansin, d’fhéach sé ar ais idir a dheirfiúr.

It was embarrassing for Eoghan, but then he looked back between his sisters.

"Tá an rún mór seo sanár dteaghlach le fada an lá," ar sé go mall.

"This big secret has been in our family for a long time," he said slowly.

D'inis sé scéal faoin sean-seanmháthair a bhí ag iarraidh cosaint ar a clann.

He told the story of the great-grandmother who sought to protect her family.

Rinne sí a cuid draíochta féin, agus rinne sí dearmad ar cuid den scéal do gach glúin eile.

She made her own magic and forgot part of the story for every other generation.

B’fheictheoir í, in ann todhchaí a thuar ach dochaoin't isteach sa neamhní.

She was a seer, able to predict the future but peering into the void.

Rinne sí cumhacht a bronnadh ar ghlúin ar ghlúin.

She bestowed power upon generation after generation.

Bhí crith ar Chiara, ní ó fhuacht na hoíche, ach ó réaltacht a theaghlaigh.

Ciara shivered, not from the night's cold, but from the reality of her family.

"Tá sin inár bhfuil ó mo sheanmháthair?

"Is that in our blood from my great-grandmother?"

" a d’fhiafraigh sí, a nguth lán le ionadh.

she asked, her voice full of wonder.

"A sea, ach ní bhíodh éasca í," arsa Eoghan.

"Yes, but it's not easy," said Eoghan.

"Ach anois tá an scéal thart.

"But now the story is over.

Agus tá cumhacht i lán lámha agat.

And the power is in your hands."

"Leis an bhfírinne nochtaithe, d'aire Ciara ar an ionramhálaíocht.

With the truth revealed, Ciara took in the manipulation.

Tháinig meas agus tuiscint nua di ar a clann.

She gained new respect and understanding for her family.

Níl aon rud le déanamh, ach glacadh lena hoidhreacht le bród.

There was nothing to do but accept her heritage with pride.

Agus an oíche ghruama ag iompú isteach i solas na gealach, d'aimsigh Ciara sráid cosán úr, agus é lán le misneach sa chroí.

And as the gloomy night turned into moonlight, Ciara found a new path, and she was full of courage in her heart.

Fiú faoi scáth an Oíche Shamhna, bhí an todhchaí lán de dhóchúlachtaí dó.

Even under the shadow of Oíche Shamhna, the future was full of possibilities.

Bhí an t-athrú ann i gcónaí, mar atá i gcónaí ag an nádúr féin.

Change was always there, just as it is in nature itself.