Chapter 3
Jane's legs turned to noodles, and her brain could not stop her loud sobs from engulfing the room.
What was wrong with her?
"Miss Taylor! Miss Taylor! Miss Taylor... Are ye sure ye alright, now?" The guide handed her a tissue, allowing her to sit on the main chair.
"It's alright, miss. I'm sure our Mackay clan will not mind ye sitting on it."
Jane tightly gripped the guide's hands. "Please... Tell me who he is... I want to know who Lady Mackay's husband is and how he died."
With a smile, the guide gently patted her hand. "T'was the noble Sir Alexander Mackay. As for how he died, I'm sorry, miss. All I can say is that tis' a matter involving the Keith clan on August 30th, 1312... He died at the tender age of 21."
Jane felt an explosion of pain corrode her insides, unaware of how tight she was grabbing the guide's hands. "Please! Please, I want to know. I promise not to tell another soul. I... I... I just want to know."
What powerful strength. The guide thought, massaging his sore hand. One look at Jane, and he could see the desperation in her eyes.
Alas...
The ginger-haired guide chuckled softly. "Madam, if t'was another person, I would not speak further. But I've never seen one as passionate as ye are about our Mackay history. So rather than tell, how about I show ye?"
"Really? Jane stared at him in scrutiny, watching the guide swiftly move towards a bookshelf, taking out a book and blowing on its dusty covers.
The book's back was made of a peculiar blackish-brown tree stump, giving an air of mystery when Jane held it in her hands.
BOOM!
A resonating clash of thunder bellowed the moment she touched the book. And the guide's smile grew broader.
He whispered something under his breath and stared at the oblivious Jane with twinkling eyes.
"Miss, if ye want to know what happens to lord Alexander, it's all in that there book."
Really? Jane hastily flipped the book’s cover, but soon felt the color drain from her face after feeling the ground tremble with vibrations.
F***!
She was flying! She was flying!
She roared in raw panic, feeling the air grow chillier by the second. Jane flared her hands maniacally as her long brown hair wrapped around her face like seaweed. Why was this happening? Where was this ghastly wind coming from?
Jane struggled to overthrow the coat of hair blocking her vision, only to see the ginger-haired man smiling at her playfully.
"You!!! You did this to me, didn't you?"
The man said nothing, slowly backing away from them and the chaotic winds."Miss Jane, I only did what ye wanted."
"Screw you! In what universe did you hear me say I want to be spun by crazy winds and sliced into a million pieces? Hey! Hey! Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Jane's face turned ashen, seeing her life glass before her eyes.
This wasn't what she signed up for.
Bruuuuu!~
The winds grew crazier, and her vision blurry.
Oh my God! The winds are growing crazier. Jane had no teats but wanted to cry.
"Help! Help! Somebody help! I'm being kidnapped by the wind."
In her hour of need, Jane prayed to all religions that existed in present day. Be it God, Allah, you name it. Jane was praying her intestines out. Too bad it fell on deaf ears.
One, two, three... Pop!
The winds vanished like a popped bubble, with Jane nowhere in sight.
Mackay land. Scotland, 1312
Stars filled the dark blue blanket of sky, giving a promise of darkness as the moon's dim hues fell upon the land. The frogs croaked, the leaves rustled, and the nightly birds sang in tune.
Just then, the black stallions flew majestically, meeting the earth with vigor and crushing every twig and leaf they met. Their black manes, so brightly twisted and rose high in a fiery dance, moving in rhythm to their flow. On their backs were black hooded riders who vigilantly swept their eyes across the woods.
With expressionless faces, they looked at their shadows, estimating their time traveled.
"Follow the river. There's no time to waste."
Alexander narrowed his gaze, staring at the lonely hill over the horizon.
-Fate-
The word meant promise to many. But for him, it meant imprisonment. He hated having his life planned out by some invisible force.
The current Scottish king highly favored his Mackay clan, Robert I of Scotland, also known as Robert The Bruce. Many envied their countless victories in battle and their king's steadfast trust in them. But what these people didn't know was that a large part of their strength came from their true origins - Werewolves.
The Mackay clan was a pack of werewolves hidden in plain sight within Scotland.
As a Chieftain leading the pack, a special ritual must be done to find his fated partner. Over the years, the clan Warlock tried desperately to find his fated one but failed. The ritual can only be done once a year. Alexander didn't care and frankly hoped she would never be found.
Reaching the top of the rugged hill, Alexander spotted a small cottage with smoke rising from its chimney. The door opened, and a short middle-aged man with an ancient staff emerged. His eyes widened, and his lips stretched exaggeratedly.
"My Lord, welcome! Please, please, come in. My lord, I can feel it! Tonight... I feel we will find her."