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“The Wars of Scottish Independence, right?” Amy said. “It said on the information board, he took Inverlochy Castle from the Comyns.”

“Aye. Cambels—they’re called Campbells these days—were his allies. King Robert asked Craig to guard the castle for him against his enemies.”

Amy chuckled. “Must be an important man, that Craig.”

“Aye, he was a man of high achievements, but with a deep sorrow in his heart. Clan MacDougall betrayed him and his family, and it scarred him for life. He swore never to trust so easily again.”

“Thank God he’ll never meet me—I’m a MacDougall.”

Sìneag’s eyes sparkled. “Are ye really?”

“Well, yeah. My grandparents immigrated from Scotland to the States, so I’m American. But my last name is MacDougall.”

“Aye! Aye! Excellent.” Sìneag’s voice shook a little from excitement. “I was hoping I’d meet ye here, lass.”

Amy frowned, something about those words setting her on guard.

“Anyway,” Amy said. “What about that Craig? Did he travel in time or something?”

“Nae, he didna. He marrit a good lass to arrange a clan alliance, but he was never happy. He lived his life as a good man. An always lonely good man.”

Amy pursed her lips to fight a strange wave of emotion that Sìneag’s words brought up within her—sadness and loneliness. The desperation of being left alone and abandoned was too familiar.

“Yeah,” she said. “Some people never get over things that cut too deep.”

Sìneag’s eyes shone with understanding and empathy. “Aye. And what if the person who can heal them lives across the river of time?”

“Then they need to use that Pictish tunnel, I guess.”

“Aye, Amy! That is very true.” Sìneag clapped her hands like a little girl. “Ye said it yerself.”

A movement caught Amy’s eye. Zach hurried down the pile of rocks towards Deanna.

“Careful!” Jenny cried.

As soon as Zach was on the ground, Deanna ran with a squeal away from him. With a yell like something between a battle call and the sound of a horny chimp, he followed her.

This wouldn’t end well. Forgetting Sìneag, Amy followed every movement as Deanna circled around the courtyard, every time evading Zach’s attempt to bear-hug her. Then she launched herself faster than ever towards Amy. Amy had already prepared to grasp and stop the girl when, at the last moment, she turned to the eastern tower.

Amy took a step forward on instinct.

Deanna pushed the security grating to the side and squeezed herself behind it—towards the gaping blackness of the entrance. She took one step inside, screamed and fell.

Amy’s heart stopped.

“Damn it,” Amy cursed and raced towards the tower. “Do not even dare!” she cried at Zach, who had stopped at the grating with a pale face and a worried expression.

Amy grabbed the flashlight from her pack. Grass flashed under her feet while she ran until she reached the grate and slid through. She stopped by the entrance into the tower. Her light fell on the broken, crumbling stairs leading down—and gaping black nothingness around them.

“Damn those teenagers,” Amy cursed under her breath and climbed down the broken stairs as fast as she could without breaking her own neck.

Rocks crumbled and fell from under her feet. Some steps were missing, some were broken and turned into flat slides. It smelled of wet earth and damp stone, of rotten leaves—and something else rotten she didn’t even want to think about. By some miracle, Amy made it all the way down. The outside light didn’t reach here. Only her flashlight remained, as though nothing else existed beyond the underground. Amy shivered, memories rattling the door in her psyche that she’d closed tight long ago.

She’d learned how to deal with darkness and with confined spaces, she reminded herself. She needed to be strong for Deanna.

“Deanna!” Amy called as the flashlight ran along the rough rock surrounding her. “Deanna!”

Her words echoed in the silence as though she were alone. As though Deanna had disappeared into nothingness.