Dora Donagal grows up on the wild Oregon coast, half-feral and more at home in the storm-lashed forest than at school or on a screen. Her family history is tangled with logging and the sea; only her Irish grandmother Maeve still speaks of “thin places” where the world wears through. During a Pacific storm Dora is drawn off the trail and discovers a moss-covered standing stone hidden in the back hill, carved with faint spirals and humming with an uncanny warmth.

Touching the stone on Samhain flings Dora through a doorway in time and space into an ancient Druid grove in the Celtic lands. There she meets Brannagh, Cian, Eira and Talies, who recognize her as a “door-walker” between worlds. Over many journeys she is initiated into the threefold path of Bard, Ovate, and Druid: learning word-magic and song, reading signs in weather and dreams, and studying an ethic where land, people, and spirit are one web of reciprocity.  

A great Council of Stones reveals that her Oregon monolith is part of a global web of “memory stones” dimming as humans treat land as resource, not relative. Entrusted with a quiet seal in her heart, Dora returns home.

Back in the rain and fog, she begins small: morning greetings to ditch and tree, story nights, forest walks. When an old-growth cut threatens the hill, her devotion deepens into grounded activism, and the Standing Stone slowly becomes a shared, living temple—a bridge of song between ages, lands, and hearts.