I may have found it...

I'm doing the opening as a prologue...and here is how it's turning out. Nowhere near perfect, yet, but getting there:

The sky is pure in its beauty and grace. And there is no wind to fight us. On such a day as this. A day of ending. Of pain. Of anger placed aside. This day should be dark and sad but instead claims joy in every way.

Manannán holds back his storms. Calms the sea. Lets the world seem whole and alive and filled with promise as he stands on the distant waters. Watching. Waiting to see if all is fulfilled. It would seem our mother’s plea to him was successful.

Our mother.

Morriggan. 

Calling us forth to seal a pact no one wished for. But which was needed to end the battles between us and the clans of Hibernia before the land became barren of life.

We float high above in a space three times the height of the sharp, dark cliffs below. The angry white creatures of the air swirl between us and the still, still sea. So quiet and easy, even as it rushes up to the rocks at the foot of that black wall of land. They silently hover over three fine vessels cutting through the water, so far below. They offer the illusion of protection to them.

Protection.

Those vile, shrieking, biting beasts can protect nothing. They could give only a warning as we approached to do battle. Could only cause us a moment of hesitation in our attack. However, that was hesitation enough to give the clans time to hide our prey from us in ways we could not counter.

Now? They were worthless, even unto themselves. Only hiding a clear view of those small, sleek crafts carrying our enemy to our point of destiny. A tiny bit of land they call Inish Ciuin.

As a triangle, they whisper across the tender waves. No sails unfurled but oars dipping down and pulling in quick crisp motions. Worked by men strong and burdened with memories, whose scars from battle match ours, in number and meaning. All have seen death in its worst phases, yet still they follow he who led them there.

He whom we most despise.

At the fore of the lead vessel, he stands. Full of himself and his abilities against us. Certain it was only by his hand our defeat grew close. Believing without question his cleverness is what made us agree to this pact. Our derision swells against his bold arrogance. Had he not received help from the gods, soon he and all his men would have been sent to the world below.

Such stupid beings, men. They decide what is and is not, and nothing shall sway them from their belief. It would be laughable, but this is no time for laughter. This is only the time of sorrow...and ending.

They called us the Cailleach Bhéara, for wont of a better understanding, even as our mother told them differently. She did not form us to be such childish things. We are Harpyiai, Robbers From the Air. And her mission to us was simple, if unkind. To end a prophecy. 

Instead, it shall be fulfilled. 

That understanding has become key to this moment.