Long before emails, electricity or even the English language, Ireland was a land shaped by the gods, carved by magic, and ruled by stories. Among the oldest—and most beloved—of these tales is the legend of the Children of Lir, a heart-tugging, shape-shifting saga from the Mythological Cycle. Think Game of Thrones, but with more feathers and fewer decapitations.

Lir was a noble of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient god-like folk who once roamed Ireland’s hills and hollows with enchanted ease. He had four children: the wise and kind Fionnuala, her brave brother Aodh, and the mischievous twins, Fiachra and Conn. Their mother died young, as tragic fairy tale mothers tend to do, and soon Lir remarried. Enter Aoife—beautiful, brilliant, and, as it turns out, dangerously insecure in the stepmother role.

Now, Aoife wasn’t just any jealous woman—she was a sorceress with a flair for dramatic gestures. Consumed by envy of the love Lir had for his children, she conjured a spell that turned them into swans. But not just ordinary swans. These were magical, musical swans who could speak and sing and make grown warriors weep with their melodies. Aoife, always the overachiever, cursed them to live as swans for 900 years: 300 on Lough Derravaragh, 300 on the Sea of Moyle, and 300 off the coast of Inish Glora. No pressure.