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Kirsty nodded. "You can't live on Huldra and not be in awe of its power, its spirit. The sea, the cliffs, the storms — they shape our lives. They're unpredictable, sometimes merciless, but they're also our identity."
The car continued its ascent, the road narrowing and becoming steeper. Finn and Amelia exchanged glances. Amelia smiled at Finn for a moment, and then she looked back out of the window as if catching herself before she went too far. This was a place of mysteries, some older than memory itself, but Finn also felt the romance of the place. With her beautiful red hair and silky skin, Finn thought Amelia could fit right in. If he didn't know any better, he would have said she had Scottish blood.
As they approached the top of a ridge, the view opened up dramatically. Below, nestled in a natural cove and shielded by imposing cliffs on either side, was a quaint sea town. Whitewashed cottages with slate roofs were clustered together, their chimneys emitting thin trails of smoke. The harbor was dotted with fishing boats, bobbing in the water. It looked like a scene straight out of a painting, its charm undeniable. The cove seemed to protect the town somewhat from the wind, but Finn couldn't help but feel how fragile such a place seemed in the face of nature's fury.
"That's Huldra Town," Kirsty announced. "We're almost there."
***
The Fair Folk Inn stood like a relic of another era, one long gone yet stubbornly resisting the inevitable passage of time. It was a low, timbered building, its wooden beams warped and twisted by centuries of exposure to the salt air and harsh island weather. The whitewashed exterior walls bore the brunt of countless storms, and the dark brown thatched roof looked like it had seen better days. Above the wooden door, a faded sign swayed gently in the breeze, depicting ethereal, almost ghost-like figures, under which the name of the inn was carved.
Kirsty slowed the car as they approached. "That's the Fair Folk Inn," she said, pointing. "Older than anyone can remember. It's seen a lot of history."
Finn noticed her hesitancy. "You're not coming in?"
She shook her head, her face clouded. "Drinking's a favorite pastime here, and I'm trying to stay on the straight and narrow. Old habits die hard."
He gave her an understanding nod. "Thanks for getting us here, Kirsty."
Amelia touched Kirsty's arm in a gesture of support. "Take care of yourself."
The two left the car and then entered the inn, and the contrast from the bleak outdoors was immediately felt. A warm, golden glow enveloped them, emanating from the hearth where a crackling fire danced merrily. The walls were lined with old pictures, vintage signs, and antique trinkets that whispered tales of days gone by.
Behind the bar stood a stout man, his girth barely contained by an old-fashioned white apron. His eyes twinkled, and his face creased into a smile at the sight of new patrons. "Hello there! I'm Bill. What can I get you?"
Finn smiled back, "We're not here for a drink, but rather some information."
Bill's eyebrows raised, intrigued. "What about?"
"The recent deaths," Amelia replied, her voice soft but firm.
The landlord's expression sobered. "Aye, that's a tragedy. Lord Carmichael's return ruffled quite a few feathers."
"Why?" Finn inquired.
Bill sighed, wiping a glass. "He had grand plans, Lord Carmichael did. Wanted to build a holiday resort, bring in tourists. Some folks were all for it, but I knew it wouldn't pan out."
Amelia leaned in, "Why's that?"
Bill glanced around, ensuring no one was within earshot. "Because of the Fair Folk. They wouldn't stand for it."
Finn shook his head. "Between the Hidden Folk, the Fair Folk, and the rest of us regular folk, it's getting a bit crowded on this island, don't you think?"
Amelia elbowed him playfully, "Sometimes, 'Fair Folk' refers to old tales of entities. It's another term for the Hidden Folk, really." Pointing to the sign above the door, she added, "You named the inn out of respect, didn't you?"
Bill nodded slowly. "My great, great grandfather changed the name after strange happenings started. Once he did, things settled down. I wouldn't dream of renaming it."
"Why Fair Folk?" Finn wondered aloud.
Bill leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "The old stories say the Hidden Folk dislike being referred to as 'fairies'. They prefer 'Fair Folk'. A mark of respect, you see."
Amelia leaned forward, her green eyes capturing Bill's attention. "What can you tell us about Ivar Ward, the fisherman who died two nights ago?"
Bill’s face clouded for a moment. "Poor soul. I can't say I knew him, he was never here to my knowledge, but a few around here knew him from Storn on the mainland."
Finn’s brow furrowed. "Why do you think someone would kill a fisherman?"
Bill took a moment, glancing around the inn before answering, his voice barely more than a whisper. "The way I see it, it was an accident, a sad case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Hidden Folk sent out their wraith to deal with Lord Carmichael. But, once its job was done, it happened upon Ivar. With it built to do one thing, get rid of newcomers or threats to the island, well... It likely thought Ivar fit the bill."
