Irish mythology overflows with stories of serpents and serpent-like dragons. Legend says that the snakes were gathered together and driven into the sea. But science will tell you that there have never been serpents in Ireland. The truth is far more complicated.

Were-serpents were common in ancient times in Ireland, revered by Druids for wisdom, strength, and healing, some were event touched by the gods and able to communicate with spirits. Many were-serpents became powerful Druid priests and priestesses, while others exerted their strength in battle and became semi-divine warlords who ruled for generations.

In the 5th century, a missionary called Patrick began preaching a new religion, Christianity. This missionary was ruthless in his determination to destroy the culture of the Druids that had dominated Ireland for centuries, and replace it with his new beliefs. To achieve his goal, he decided that he must first destroy the were-serpents who he saw as the power behind the Druids. He nearly succeeded, he and his followers captured and killed all but a handful of were-serpents driving them from the heights of respect they had enjoyed into shadows to hide from the very people who had revered them.

I am descended of this handful of were-cobra who survived the massacre. For generations, we remained hidden. The once-powerful “dragons” of Ireland slithered on the fringes of society, with the help of noble families who secretly held to the old ways, a shadow of ourselves, as Christianity rose to dominate our island. Over the centuries, my ancestors took the name of and intermarried with the nobility who sheltered and protected us from discovery by the church.

I hatched in the spring of 1680 on a farm near a crossroads outside of Waterford, Ireland, the impoverished branch of an old noble family. My parents had many children, as was our custom, slowly attempting to rebuild our number without being noticed. We lead a simple life; my parents worked the farm with their children until some of us were old enough to seek employment off the farm. One brother became a blacksmith; several sisters worked as scullery maids and cooks in noble houses.

I, however, was a fiery redhead with a viper’s temper, and unsuitable for work in a fine noble house. Instead, I found work in a tavern not far from the farm where I grew up. I learned quickly to hide the truth of what I was from all who would stop at the tavern. I didn’t learn well enough it would seem, because in the tavern in 1699 I was discovered, after four bodies hit the tavern floor, and tried for witchcraft in Waterford. The authorities believed I died in my cell before they could fulfil the sentence handed down.