A sight that rightfully belongs in the medieval stories spun on the big screen, the Rocks of Cashel have seen and heard much over the course of their existence. Imposing stone walls glinting green in summer and deep grey in winter mark the perimeters of these behemoth structure of towers and spiked turrets. Its deep alcoves have served as safe spaces where the Kings of Munster pondered and mulled over their reign. Its aisles were privy to the baptizing of King Aengus by Patrick. The inky shadows carpeting the flagstones have heard the cries of war and terror throughout multiple invasions which sought to lay waste to this site of significance. Skipping past the flagstones, you will see a 12th century circular column topped by a cone, riddled with holes in places where chips have fallen away. Ribbed ceilings and elaborate archways mark Cormac’s Chapel. Here, the shadows dance to the whistled tune of the wind across the Romanesque busts lining the hallway but wander further and you will reach a stone sarcophagus. Swirling patterns and clever craftsmanship would have engraved the impression of two beasts intertwined, a remnant of the Vikings who once roamed the lands. The faint marks of paint outlining humanoid figures are all that could be salvaged of the earliest frescoes created, ravaged by time and invaders. To the east of the residential castle lies a Gothic cathedral, moisture clinging to the flagstones. The gaping holes mark spots where chunks of wall were blown apart by lightning onto the grassy knolls beneath. Just entering the aisle-less square is bound to leave your standing hair on ends. Etched and carved into the very heart of the Rock is the dark history of Ireland’s past, simply awaiting to be unveiled.