Let's talk about Inverness, shall we? You know, that charming Scottish city that's been typecast as "Nessie's hometown" since basically forever. But much like how there's more to being a selkie than just looking fabulous in seal form, there's more to Inverness than its camera-shy aquatic celebrity.

Today's Inverness is a peculiar cocktail of ancient and modern - imagine a Viking trying to figure out how to use an iPhone, and you're halfway there. You've got your historic castle brooding over the city like a medieval influencer, while tourists armed with selfie sticks hunt for the Loch Ness Monster with the same determination as my protagonist Morwenna hunting for answers about her heritage.

But in "Whispers of the Selkie," I took some... creative liberties. (What? You expected a fantasy author to leave well enough alone?) In my version, those quaint cobblestone streets hide more secrets than a selkie's seal skin. The local pubs aren't just serving haggis and whisky - they're secret meeting spots for creatures that would make Nessie look like a goldfish at a pet store.

While modern-day Inverness residents worry about parking spots and WiFi signals, my fictional version has people worrying about accidentally offending the local selkie colony or stepping into a Druid's sacred circle. (Pro tip: Both are equally bad for your health.)

The real Inverness sits comfortably between Ullapool's postcard-perfect harbor and Skye's mystical landscapes. But in my world? Let's just say the city's got enough magical energy to power Scotland's grid for the next century. Those mists rolling in from the water? Not just weather patterns - they're magical veils hiding secrets older than your grandmother's secret shortbread recipe.

And while real Inverness locals debate football scores and the proper way to eat haggis (is breakfast haggis really a thing? Discuss.), my version has them casually discussing the latest selkie politics while trying not to attract attention from nosy tourists.

But here's the thing - sometimes the line between my Inverness and the real one gets delightfully blurry. When you're walking those ancient streets at twilight, with the mist curling around your ankles and the castle looming overhead, you might just wonder: is that really just a seal in the water, or is Morwenna's world more real than we think?

Just don't blame me if you start eyeing every seal with suspicion. I take no responsibility for paranoid seal-watching sessions.