Surrounded by the fading light of the evening sun, a man rode a horse up a thriving green hill at a gallop, the animal's hooves biting into the dirt path and lifting tons of dust in their wake. The man, tall and leanly muscled, had long waves of sandy blond hair which were flying wildly in the wind at his back; his fiercely narrowed eyes of a pure grey seemed to turn as dark as the storm clouds above his head as he urged his horse on. Without looking back, he swept through the field to the top of the hill and let out a sigh of relief when he saw his small keep ahead. Once inside, they could always come and try dislodging him… Now more than ever, he wished Liam had not left for his round the world tour so soon; he could have used his brother's expert help in this present predicament. Having a vampire in the family wasn't all bad after all, he mused, reining his horse in to a halt; having two, however, was clearly a nightmare, even for a Mage.

Without waiting for the horse to stop, he dismounted nimbly and cursed copiously in Gaelic when the gash in his leg re-opened and pain shot through it, causing him to nearly stumble down. Weary, he gripped the horse's mane to steady himself, nuzzled his faithful steed and sent him on his way around back to wait for him with a pat on the flank. Ignoring the blood that stained his tartan, he hopped more than ran inside the keep, shutting the heavy door tight behind his back, and cast a protective spell on it, just in case.

He had some time, he told himself as he rounded the corner into his workshop; the vampires could not come inside without an invitation, Liam had taught him that much three scores of years ago, when he'd come to his door pleading for help. He'd left his own kin outside for five bloody nights, Dougan remember bitterly, out in the cold wintry wind of the Highlands. At times, Liam had just sat on the grass prostrate it seemed, though too often his agonizing moans had broken the night, and he had scorned his own blood, Dougan had. To his undying shame… At other times Liam had pounded at the door, with always the same words, or a close variation of them… Dougan, by the blood we still share, a deartháir mór; only you can help me now. I can't do this alone. Please. Dougan sighed at the recollection of them. Liam's words were forever branded on his mind, the shame of his own behaviour upon hearing his brother's pleas still in his heart.

But then, Dougan shrugged with a sigh, he hadn't known then, that Liam had been fighting against the demon infesting him, had he? If he had, would it have changed his attitude, he wondered? Probably not… At least, he could admit it to himself. One look at the lad had told him he had been too wild to be trusted at the time, too unstable. And Niall's attempt at cajoling an invitation out of him only the year before had drained Dougan out of sympathy for his own brothers. It had taken him hours of sweat and hard work to revoke the invitation after he'd kicked the bastard out of his home! He'd had to set a fire spell in front of all the doors and windows and ask Angus and a few other trusty clansmen to sit at each of them with an arrow pointing at it at all times to make bloody sure Niall didn't come back with a handful of peckish friends. So of course, when Liam had come, he'd assumed it was a ploy and he'd left him out there despite his pleas; who could blame him for it?

Grumbling, Dougan snatched his triangular Celtic knot amulet from under his plaid shirt and set it on the table where he'd already prepared the Conemara stone he'd brought back from his last trip home in Ireland to conceal the tiny soul stone from his mother's homeland. All he needed to do now, was seal the soul stone within the green harmless Conemara one, cast the love spell he'd planned on cloaking the amulet with and run out through the dungeon to the back to get the Night Watchers' amulet to safety somewhere. Because he knew Niall wasn't coming alone this time; he'd have Idris with him, no doubt, and a host of whelps to help him. If it had been just Niall after him, he couldn't have taken care of him of course… Dougan Mac Aonghais wasn't the kind to be frightened off by a vampire. He was a Mage, after all!

"Dougan?! I didna hear ye come in, kinsman!"
"Angus?" Dougan swivelled to face the door and stared in shock at his friend Angus McLeod. Now, that complicated things a bit… He frowned, grumbled loudly when Angus laughed and handed him a bottle of his personal stash of malt whiskey. "Wha' are ye doin' here?" He asked, instinctively lapsing into his adoptive land's speech.
"'Tis yer birthday, Dougan!" Angus answered with a grin. "'Tis a wench I brocht ye, alang wi' the whiskey."

Of course! It figures that Angus would do such thing… Dougan sighed and beckoned his friend inside the workshop, his mind racing now to come up with a way to keep Angus safe… and the wench he'd brought him, too, he supposed.

"Ye shouldna be here, lad." He told him, shoving him on a stool next to him.
"What for no?" Angus frowned now, his eyes going down to Dougan's leg and finally noticing the blood dripping down on the floor from it. His face set into a hard scowl as his hands went to his sword hilt instantly. "Saints! Who has dune you harm, kinsman?" He asked, springing back up and running towards the corridor, ready to fight.
"No one you need to concern yourself with, my friend." Dougan's tone was deliberately sharp, deliberately cultured to get the lad's immediate attention before he ran off and got himself killed, and he breathed a sigh of relief when Angus stopped in his track, turning back around to study him.
"Is it that bad?" Angus asked, imitating Dougan's change of speech impulsively as he walked back in. "Are they coming here?" Dougan only nodded and went back to his task of concealing the amulet's properties. There was no need to explain; Angus knew all about him, the only one in his adoptive clan to know the truth about his birth, his skills and his brothers' fate. He knew nothing about the amulet however… Nobody knew anything about the amulet; it had been so for many centuries now, and the Gods willing, it would remain so for centuries to come. "Saints! I ha'e tae get her down here!" He exclaimed, rushing out towards the stairs that led up to the bedchambers. "I didna know there'd be fighting or I wouldna ha'e brocht the lass here."
"Angus, wait! There is something I must tell you about this pendant. 'Tis a secret I must share wi' ye." Dougan called the man back and held the amulet out for him to see.
"'Tis auld, innit?" Angus asked, staring at it with curiosity.
"Aye, very auld. More so than you think." Dougan let out a heavy breath and shook the triangular knotwork in the air between them, bringing his gaze to meet his friend's with resolve. He had no choice; someone had to know so that, if he didn't escape Idris's clutches, the secret would not be lost. "'Tis an amulet forged by the hands of an ancestor of mine who replicated it from an even older one. 'Tis not simply a trinket, as I once said it was; 'tis a powerful and important item that has been handed down in my family ever since the leader of the Night Watchers was slain by the Necromancer."

Angus only nodded, his gaze slightly confused, and Dougan knew some of what he'd just said had gone over the lad's head. Angus had Night Watcher's blood coursing through his veins, but the lad didn't know the whole story behind the Watchers and he did not understand the intricate weaving involved in the Balance of the Worlds. How could he possibly convey the importance of the amulet to him in the short time they had? With a sigh, Dougan brought his grandfather's approach to mind and met Angus's gaze steadily.

"Lad, do you trust me?" He asked him, knowing full well what the answer would be.
"What question is this?" Angus exclaimed, shock flashing through his eyes. "We're kinsmen!"
"I've only been your kinsman for a score and five years, Angus." Dougan sighed. "I've been what I am for almost ten scores of them. What I'm about to show you requires that you believe my word that I'm speaking the pure truth. And sit down, will ye; I wouldna want ye swooning on me, lad." He added playfully.
"Swooning!?" Angus grumbled. "I'm a Highlander! I'm nae blastit wee lass!"
"'Tis a tale of Magic…" Dougan teased.
"I know who ye are and wha' ye do… Ye culdna surprise me." Angus laughed with a smug wave of the hand, his eyes keen and eager to find out the secret held in the pendant.
"Very well… Close your eyes and concentrate on the images I'm going to feed your mind." Dougan instructed, urgency blasting through him as night fell at last. It would not be long now, until Niall and Idris came hunting. "Long ago, a Night Watcher gathered all his fellowmen and decided to create a secret guild, a fellowship of Night Watchers who could gather and exchange information about their common enemies, call to each other for help when needed. His name was Maelon and he was my grandfather's father, on my mother's side. Here are the last moments of his life and his last words as he spoke them to my grandfather Owain. Remember it always. One day, you may need to recount it in turn." Angus only nodded dutifully.

"Owain." Maelon whispered, squinting through the gloom. The Necromancer and his Dark Magi were near; he could feel them now, see them in his mind's eyes as clearly as if they'd been right in front of him. They had already breeched the upper chambers and he knew it was only a question of minutes before they found the hidden passage that led to the Refuge's secret entrance.
"I'm here, father." Owain replied gloomily, kneeling next to him. The lad was young, barely twelve years old, too young perhaps for such a task, but Maelon had no choice. The enemy would seek him out, so he had to seal the Refuge and send Owain away with the amulet before they found out he'd even been here too. "Let me help you up and I'll carry you to safety."

Maelon let out a soft laugh at his son's words and shook his head, crawling to the door instead and shooing the boy out into the corridor.

"No son; I would only delay you." Maelon said with a smile. "Take the Watchers' amulet and run. One day, one will come who will need it for a very important task and we must keep it safe until then."
"You'll keep it safe, father." Owain insisted, attempting to pull him up. "I would not know what to do with it."
"Listen to me, son; we're nearly out of time. Never reveal what it is to anyone but your first born, or your most trusted friend if you have no children." Maelon instructed, sealing the Refuge with the celtic knotwork pendant he then handed to his son. "This is more important than my life… or yours. We must keep the Refuge hidden from the Dark Lords who seek to abuse its power. The Egg will remain inside and wait for the one who is meant to find it. Go now and be safe, son. Do not go home; they'll be looking for us there."
"Where shall I go, father?" Owain nodded, his vivid blue gaze hard as a sapphire stone, his face set in a resolute scowl. So young… Maelon thought again, looking into the youthful face. "I have seen in the Augur's Orb, son. Your mother does not know and she must never know or she will be in deadly danger. Dark Forces will gather and seek to break the Balance of the Worlds to conquer and enslave them."
"Then we must stop them…" Owain muttered, his dark brown hair falling over his shoulders when he once again attempted to lift his father up. "Come. We can just clear through and escape together. Then we will gather the Mages and fight those Dark Forces."
"We cannot, son…" Maelon sighed. "Some are no yet born, and neither are the ones who will help take them down. We cannot clear through with the Necromancer so close; he would track our destination and follow us there. Leave now." Maelon ordered, pushing the boy away. "And never forget who you are, or those you come from. Seek Master Saeldur, the Emissary; he will protect you and send for your mother."
"What will I tell her?" Owain asked, his voice breaking as he turned his head to set his eyes on his father one last time.
"Tell her I died with honour." Maelon answered, gritting his teeth as he stood at last, his back against the wall to hold himself steady. "As I have lived."
"I will, father." The boy agreed grimly, his hands clenched in tight fists as he turned to run away at last.

With a sigh of relief, Maelon held the wall as he took his last few steps towards his destiny and felt the Onyx seeking his fears and his weaknesses, so he hardened his resolved and offered none. He'd be damned if he died a coward!

"You cannot run, Watcher." The Necromancer said, his tone low and confident. The voice was distant, but it was undoubtedly inside and getting closer with every word. "All your whelps who had courage to fight have been caught and will be dealt with accordingly. And for you…" He added smoothly as he rounded the corner into the corridor, his coal black gaze burning into Maelon's, seeking to break the Mage's will. "…I have a very special plan of servitude."

A face came into view through the misty gloom that had begun invading the corridors, with carved features and coal black eyes, surrounded by a full mane of unruly raven black hair. The eyes were narrowed into slits and the mouth, thin as a line, turned into a sneer. A hand holding the Necromancer's Onyx rod appeared and the Night Watcher gathered his will as the black skull lit up in a black hue and flames erupted from it, licking at it from all sides. So, this was it, then… Maelon sighed and raised his head high to face his sworn enemy.

"I serve no evil, Orgos." Maelon said firmly. "You, out of all people ought to know that by now."

The Necromancer's black power pushed at him, the Onyx pulsing with a fierce red hue as it sought to overpower his mind, and while there was still time, Maelon hurled a blast of fire out, throwing himself behind the spell to make sure he could seal the passage at his back as he did. Writhing in agony when the Necromancer cast his own black fire spell at him, Maelon closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He had done all he could; now he could only pray it was enough. The corridor closed in under his will, and he sealed the Refuge with his last breath.

"Saints!" Angus exclaimed when Dougan had released him from his memories. "Is this Necromancer coming after us?" Despite the assurance in his voice, Dougan knew from his friend's troubled gaze that he would rather die than meet the Necromancer and he couldn't blame him.
"No, the Necromancer cannot pass through the barrier between this world and the other one my ancestor was from." Dougan reassured him. "But there are others who are aware of this amulet and will stop at nowt to get their hands on it. They must never have it and, as I've no heir to pass it down to, I am telling you this, in case something happens to me. I trust you to uphold my pledge, should it be required."
"And I will, should you ever need me to." Angus vowed solemnly. "But you're a powerful wizard…"
"Mage, Angus! I'm a bleeding Mage, not a blastit Wizard. Try to keep it straight will you?" Dougan grumbled, eyeing his friends moodily.
"Sorry… A powerful Mage." Angus nodded sagely.

A sudden chilly wind ran through the keep, even though he always kept a spell going to keep his home warm, and Dougan frowned, standing up to peek into the hallway wearily. Something was trying to break his protective spell and it wasn't Niall or Idris; it was someone much, much more powerful…

"Angus, fetch the wench from upstairs and bring her here. Someone's trying to break in. Hurry!" He ordered, clasping the amulet tight and unlocking the dungeon gate.

All three of them would leave through there and he'd send Angus and his wench home with instructions to ride as if the devil was behind them and not stop until they'd reach the Mac Leod's keep. He would give Angus the amulet, too, he decided, and lure Niall and his dogs away. If he came out of the encounter alive, he'd come back for it and vanish from this place… He couldn't take her along of course, and risk her life, so it was best if he didn't say goodbye at all. He'd keep one step ahead of the enemy. Always. Maybe he'd follow Liam's idea and tour the world; and maybe he'd catch up with him and give him the amulet to keep safe. If he could trust someone with it, besides Angus, it was Liam. Liam, at least, had the advantage of immortality, which Angus didn't…

"Em…" Angus's quiet voice cut through Dougan's thoughts and he turned to see which wench his friend had brought for him, his eyes wide open and the amulet falling out of his hands in shock when he saw her. "She's here…" Angus's voice was barely a whisper as he eyed Dougan warily, and for good reason Dougan decided, storming over to him to fist a hand in his shirt and lift him a few inches off the floor.
"Fiona… You call her a wench?" He growled threateningly. "If you weren't your Laird's favourite cousin, I'd cut yer head off for it."
"Och, but ye're susceptible today!" Angus muttered, slapping Dougan's arm away. "I just told ye that to keep it a surprise. Now, I wish I hadn't brocht her here." He added, gently pushing the girl towards Dougan in sign of appeasement. "Leave and take her to safety; I'll hold them back."

A loud thump at the door jolted them all and Dougan closed his eyes, concentrated on its origin, a chill running down his spine when he recognized the sign of the Seers in the essence. Why would the Seers be allying themselves with the demon Lord? With grim determination, he shoved Fiona into Angus's arms, and showed Angus towards the gate.

"This is power ye canna fight, Angus; 'tis for me to do. Alone." Dougan's gaze settled on Fiona and her eyes bore into his, the fire in them threatening to weaken his resolve. "Take her and the pendant to safety; 'tis something I must face alone. Stay in the dungeon until daytime and run to your Laird. I will meet you there if I'm able."
"If ye think I'm goin' tae leave ye here tae fight alone, think again!" Angus growled.
"Haud yer wheesht Angus an' listen tae me! There is no other way!" Calming his agitated voice and his growing anxiety down, Dougan shook his friend's arm to bring him back to his senses, staring at him hard. "You must protect her and this." He added, grabbing the amulet from the floor where he'd dropped it in his shock of seeing Fiona. "I canna let them have either. They've tracked the pendant down somehow. I have no choice but to stay behind and hold them off."

The amulet held too much power and too great a secret for it to fall into the demons' hands. So, he'd need to stay back and fight to keep it secret. He'd already concealed the soul stone, now he needed just the two souls to cast the spell he'd planned on hiding it with. A harmless love trinket is what it would be from this day on.

"Dougan…" Fiona's pleading voice broke his heart and he forced himself not to look at her… until she walked in his line of vision that is. "Come with us. We will all hide in the dungeon until daybreak."

Her fingers gripped his arm, tried to drag him into the dungeon corridor with her and it was all he could do to resist. Her free hand hesitantly touched his and he held his breath. His heart simply stopped. He'd barely had time to court the lass since he'd found her wounded and unconscious on his doorstep. He'd always been too busy with his duty, his craft, to bother with women more than any man needed to… until Fiona came into his life that is. 199 years… he mused; 199 years he'd been on this earth, and he'd never needed anyone to share his life with. Then she'd dropped half dead at the foot of his keep and one look at her was all it had taken to turn his whole life upside down. It had been like a recognition in his heart; as if he'd known all along it was her he'd been waiting for. And now, fate was again playing tricks on him. Bloody fate! He sighed, moved away and hardened his heart. It was probably for the best, he tried to convince himself; if he didn't survive, she would be free to find another… If he did, well, he'd come back and woo her as he should and as she deserved, to make up for the lack.

"Go with Angus." He ordered her, forcing a scowl on his face. "I've no time for woman whining."
"Fiona's right, Dougan. Ye can hide wi' us and escape through the dungeon when the sun comes up."
"Nay, Angus. I canna go with you." Dougan sighed. "If I step over the gate's threshold, the dungeon's protection will fall and whoever is trying to break in will be able to follow us down. Then there would be nowhere to hide from them."

A loud crash at the door had both men draw their swords simultaneously, Angus swerving around to stand in front of Fiona, looking every inch the tall and fierce warrior he'd often proven himself to be in this harsh land. Gathering power, Dougan felt the cold sweep of the Seer's power as it sought them and he resigned himself to his fate. He could feel Niall' hunger in the air outside, and Idris's vicious energy seeking to break down the keep's protective spell.

"They're here…" Angus warned, angling himself to glance at Dougan with a scowl. "I'm a bloody Night Watcher, too, Dougan, even if I don't know anything about them. I can fight vampires; you taught me how!" He added, in the face of Dougan's brooding silence.
"Vampires, aye, but ye canna oppose demon Lords and omnipotent beings." Dougan growled.

His gaze held his friend's steadily, before sliding to Fiona with a scowl. He needed two souls to cast the last spell, he reminded himself with a concentrated frown; it was now or never… Quickly, he drew a speck of Fiona's soul into his spell, blended it with some of his and chanted the words to infuse the hidden soul stone with it. If fate had any kind of justice, even if he died tonight, he and Fiona would meet again in another life. What else could he do now but hope? Grimly, he set the pendant around Angus's neck and clasped his friend's arms resolutely.

"Cha sgeul rùin e is fios aig triuir air, Angus." He told him, before Fiona stood proudly in front of him, her deep brown eyes so bold, yet so soft at the same time, pleading with him and he framed her face with his hands, couldn't resist brushing her lips with his. "Go now. I will find you if I'm able. If I do not survive, stay with Angus; he will protect you. Promise me, kinsman." He then asked of Angus, though his gaze still held Fiona's as he spoke. If his luck ran out, he wanted this last memory of her to be with him till the end. He wanted to remember her golden brown eyes, the almond shape of them, and the wild cascade of tawny brown curls over her shoulders, how her creamy skin would blush from a simple look from him; his gaze lingered on the softness of her pink lips a moment, before he reluctantly pulled away. If he kissed her again, he'd never be able to let her go. "Promise me to take care of her for me."
"Until my last breath, I promise you, Dougan." Angus sighed, dragging his feet over to the dungeon gate. "I will keep her safe and claim her as my own if you do not come back. I will be her Lord to ensure her safety."
"Thank you." There was a sharp pain in his chest, but Dougan was grateful. Fiona would be protected by the clan now and Angus was a strong warrior. It eased his mind. "The pendant has been blessed by the faeries from my homeland." He added to Fiona's attention. "One day, we will find each other again even if it takes a lifetime or two." He promised her. "You must stay with Angus; he's both capable and dutiful. Do you hear me?"
"Aye." Her face set in a resolute smile and the warmth of it all but shattered his heart. "I will do as you bid, of course."
"Stay in the light, leannan mo mhaoil." He released her and Angus grabbed her arm to drag her into the dungeon with him. "What was said here tonight does not leave my keep."
"My word to you." Angus nodded, took a step back towards the workshop, looking inside of it as if he was changing his mind. "Merciful God, Dougan, I canna let you let you risk your life here alone."
"Trust me, Angus…" Dougan answered with a half laugh. "You had better hurry or your God will feel a lot less merciful with you if you change the course of the destiny he's been so bent on weaving for the past millennia."

With a sigh and a curt nod, Angus finally dragged Fiona down the stairs, fleeing with her to the safety of the dungeon below. Grimly, Dougan sealed the gate and wiped the blood off his leg with a clean cloth - no reason to attract the vampires too quickly… He then grabbed a harmless replica of the pendant he'd made and slid it over his head with a fearsome glimmer in his eyes. Sword in hand, he rushed to the kitchen, tossed some food together in a satchel and walked to the window, slinking down the wall into the night. Of course, vampires would pick up his trail soon but, if he played it well, no one would ever know there had been anyone with him in the keep; no one would ever know where the amulet had disappeared.

Furtively, he sunk into the foggy night, keeping to the shadows in silence - Liam had taught him the art of prowling like a demon at least and he was grateful for the knowledge of it now, even if he'd been reluctant at the time - and put as much distance between his home and himself. If he could reach Ireland and Luimneach, he would be able to head back to his mother's world and tell her someone in the Sanctuary was corrupt. But he knew using magic now would seal his fate and make void his chances of escape; the Seer had a track on him already, he could feel the subtle pull of it, and he or she would just clear through right along with him. The last thing he wanted was to lead a corrupt Seer inside the family estate and risk him finding out about the Linden portal there.

There was a soft rustle of leaves to the north and Dougan sunk south, further away from the path, only allowing his breath to come out when he had crossed the boundaries of the clan's land. Then, he stopped and frowned, wary and watchful; all around him, he only heard utter silence, a spine-chilling stillness that had him on edge. It was as if life itself had ceased to exist within a kilometre radius from where he stood and he knew they had caught up with him. Grimly, he laid a steady hand on his sword hilt and focused on the familiar presence he could now feel just up ahead, taunting him - at times strong and nearing him, at others eluding him completely.

A dense fog fell over the area, just as eerie as the silence had been earlier, and he watched Niall step through it, looking all majestic in his refined clothes. Then again, Dougan sneered, Niall had always had a fondness for drama and haughtiness. Drawing his sword, Dougan observed the vampire who used to be his youngest brother, all senses on alert. Niall's smile was as conceited as ever, filled with pure malice, and there was nothing Dougan wanted more than to dust the vampire inside. If he could just redeem his brother's soul, it would be worth death in the end, as far as he was concerned. He'd had many chances in the past to dust his brother, he thought grimly; many times he could have - should have, no doubt - ended the threat of the demon. But there was always this part of him who hoped Niall could manage to fight the demonic influence the same way Liam had. Of course, Liam had always had more grit and more willpower than Niall and himself combined, Dougan thought with a shrug; Liam was honour-bound in ways Niall could only dream of ever being. 'Tis likely it saved his soul… Dougan thought with a thoughtful nod.

"We meet again…" Niall said, stopping only a few feet away. As always, his voice was polished, with those 'perfect' inflections Dougan had always preferred staying clear of. "As I had warned you we would, if you persisted in your foolishly moral ways."

Didn't he look snobby all of a sudden, Dougan scowled, circling to position his back away from the faint echo of movement he sensed to his left.

"My mind does not change with the weather, Niall." Dougan replied bluntly. "Nor does it weaken when demons threaten my wellbeing, far from it. You'd be wasting your time to try and break my will."
"I never waste my time, Dougan." Niall scoffed, rushing towards him in a blur, sword raised to strike.

Dougan barely had time to deflect the blade - more instinct that skill, he had to admit - but he slipped out of the way, angling himself around to deflect another blow, a lot less tentative than the last. A third thrust slit the arm and Dougan bit back a cry of pain, narrowing his eyes to focus on the action.

"Yield, Dougan." Niall laughed, his fierce demon red eyes boring into him, seeking to force his will on him. "Hand me the amulet and I will spare your life. Why sacrifice your eternity for a trinket such as this?"
"That alone, brother, is the reason why you've never understood me." Dougan scoffed, deflecting another blow with resolve. "Honour was never your strong point."
"To the disappointment of my poor father, aye." Niall laughed, a wicked laugh that had Dougan's blood boil. "A pity, isn't it?"
"No honour and no shame." Dougan was livid, fought with himself to bury the rage; Niall would have no qualms using his anger against him.
"Both are a nuisance." Niall shrugged attempting to sweep Dougan's feet from under him with a precise swipe of his blade. "Too restrictive for the likes of me."
"'Tis you who's a nuisance, vampire." Dougan seethed, lithe on his legs as he leapt out of the way.
"You could not possibly understand." Niall replied dismissively.

Grinding his teeth, Dougan ignored the widening gash on his arm, the burn that came with the tearing, and pressed forward, forcing Niall back a few steps. With a deliberately cocky grin, he tossed his sword into his left hand when the right one weakened and pressed on. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to give Niall a hearty struggle.

Reaching out to the Myst, he attempted to cast a wave of fire and found his essence muted, unable to burst out; it was as if he had been sealed into a void through which the Myst could not travel. Someone - or something - was preventing him to use his magic, he realized with dismay. His essence was blocked within, its bond with that of everything else around him severed. He damn felt like a wee bairn fresh out of the womb. And, with his magic taken from him, all he had left were his claymore and his wits, he thought grimly, realizing that, against Niall and whoever was out there stalking him, it may be far from enough. With a deafening roar, he gathered his will and clashed toe to toe with his brother, sweat pearling on his forehead, burning his eyes, only weakening when Niall upped the ante and blurred his movements.

"You cannot win, Dougan." Niall said, a vicious gleam in his demon red eyes. "Save yourself a painful death and give me the bloody amulet."

With satisfaction, Dougan watched as dark blood oozed out of numerous wounds on Niall's body, his classy clothes torn and stained and, even if he knew they would not kill him, it gave him hope. Yet, the fight wasn't even; Niall's wounds would heal quickly while his kept building up… and the others were in the shadows, no doubt waiting for Niall's orders to take centre stage. He could sense them, just out of reach, but close enough to know they were around; their thirst for blood was only rivalled by Niall's.

"Go to Hell, Niall." Dougan growled, hurling himself at him, blade angling at the last second in the hopes of finding his neck.
"After you, a deartháir." Niall laughed wickedly.

Niall flung his own sword out with a swiftness Dougan could only dream of, feigned a strike to the arm and slashed the chest instead, the large gash it created freely spurting blood that dripped down his arm, dousing his hand so that his claymore became a slippery eel as he fought to remain standing. Without mercy, Niall hacked viciously and, with cool deliberation, cut the sword arm off entirely, staring into Dougan's wavering eyes with an icy smile. Pain hovered, never quite reached his dimming senses.

"Won't you call for help, Dougan?" Niall asked wickedly, shaking his head in feigned despair. "Where's Liam when you need him? Gone wenching again, has he?" He taunted him, deliberately adding a heavy lilt to his speech in mock imitation of his brothers'. "Always thinking of his own pleasure first! 'Tis himself, innit? He can't be trusted… I wonder how long before he finds you dead… and how much longer before he understands 'twas me who did away with you."
"Don't you worry about Liam…" Dougan replied with unswerving confidence, his breathing dim and erratic. "You will have him on your back soon enough." He added, confidence filling his voice. Niall just laughed and kicked Dougan in the face in answer, impassively watched him fall heavily in the grass.
"I could keep you on this side of alive for days on end, but I've not the time to play with you." He told him. "Fate waits and it has waited long enough as it is, courtesy of Dougan Mac Aonghais. I'm only happy to repay you for it." He added, readying another strike. "'Twas a long chase you had us on, Dougan. I commend you for it…" He added smoothly.

With a groan, Dougan got to his knees, staggering back slightly, and rolled to avoid the killing blow he saw coming through blurring eyes, seizing his fallen sword as he did. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself back up and parried Niall's blade with a grunt, his strength fading even more rapidly than his vision. Fiercely, stubbornly, he pushed against the magic block that was tightening around him, bending all his thoughts on it. Two dozen vampires were finally emerging through the fog, crushing any hopes of survival in the bud.

"Not feeling confident enough to kill me yourself?" He asked mockingly, though the effort cost him and his chest burned at the simple task of breathing.
"The amulet, Dougan." Niall said coldly, his red burning eyes glinting dangerously.
"Come and get it." Dougan retorted calmly, standing tall again and planting his feet firmly in the ground.
"What a stupid way to die…" Niall laughed, a cold, heartless laugh that echoed endlessly in the night.
"Because the way you died was better?" Dougan scoffed, feeling his chest constrict.
"I have eternity now… and the means to use it well. If only you would remove your bloody cross, I would offer you the gift so you could understand." Niall tempted with a sneer. "He's mine!" He told the others who had begun advancing.

The vampires stopped instantly, forming a tight circle around the two brothers, their eyes gleaming wickedly as they surveyed the damage Niall had done.

"Eternity is relative, Niall. At least, even into death, I will hold onto mine. When you fall to a well aimed arrow to the heart, a deartháir, you will taste oblivion. There will be no redemption for you." Niall only stood and smiled condescendingly, the certainty of his triumph clear in his eyes.

Dougan coughed a mouthful of blood and pressed one more time against the magic bubble that was cutting him off from the Myst. The block on him intensified, threaten to shatter his will and a female voice echoed in his head, the Seeress no doubt.

"Do not think to pit your skills against mine." It threatened icily.

With one last effort, Dougan's essence clashed with hers, ready to burst and he threw what was left of his will at her, to no avail; the block did not wither. Instinctively, his blade came up to parry Niall's, his weakened arm missing by a hairpin, and he sighed, his thoughts already turning to prepare for death. He felt the blade slice through his neck, heard his own scream at the tearing pain it caused, but already his senses were shutting down and his own voice came muffled to his ears. Like a dichotomy, he saw his own head roll off his shoulders, blood spurt out that covered the rest of him with a clear red, and the necklace fell on the grass next to it. With a cry of victory, Niall knelt and seized it, just as a smoky grey fog swirled to life, gyrating into a human shape and gradually turning into the body of the demon Lord himself.

"A task well done." Idris said, nodding approvingly. His hand came out, open flat as he waited until Niall had deposited the necklace into it. "You will be suitably rewarded."
"Thank you, Lord Idris." Only the slightest of hesitation showed in Niall's movement as he briefly held on to the pendant, staring at it with envy. But he soon was on one knee, bowing reverently as he deposited the amulet into his Sire's palm. "It was child's play. What shall I do with him?" He asked, offhandedly kicking Dougan's arm with a foot.
"Take his head back to his keep and stick it on a pole in front of the door." Idris commanded with a cold smile. "With any luck, Liam will be back in time to see it before it decomposes. Do what you will with the body."

With a sigh, Dougan watched Idris vanish in a wisp of magic, regrets swarming him. He would now take the knowledge of what he'd just witnessed to his grave and no one would know of the pact that seemed to have been forged between the Seers, the demon Lord and his own brother.

The images faded from the Orb of Seeing and Liam's hand sluggishly moved away from the surface while his narrowed eyes still stared into it. Heart pounding, I pushed away the queasiness the gruesome vision had left behind and observed him, a certain apprehension settling on my mind when I saw the impassive face he'd wrapped himself in. He was calm… too calm, I thought as I ran a hand on his arm in compassion. One look at Ian's concerned gaze told me that he'd come to the same conclusion.

"Well… that certainly explains a few things." Liam said with a thoughtful nod, his arm shaking free of my hold. "I never found the head hanging on the pole as the clan gathered both body and head the next day and gave him a proper burial." His eyes flashed red at the rim briefly as he spoke and I felt the anger he was fighting to keep inside, a wave of cold rage quickly conquered again. "I came back a year later for his 200th birthday and found he'd been killed. His kinsmen thought a rival clan had beheaded him and they went on a raid to avenge him… I had my doubts on the whole thing, but no one I interrogated knew anything. I only found out that Niall had killed him a few centuries later, when Niall himself boasted about it. That is partly why I sent him to his bloody shroud." He explained, his hand clenching on the table. "Which brings us back to what you said earlier, Nola. Niall set me up for that shroud, and neatly at that. And now we know that Awena was conspiring against her peers for a lot longer than twenty years... This whole scene took place in the year 1439." He added with a frown, his gaze absently settling on my hand as it lay on his, gently massaging his fingers open. His eyes lost some of their iciness and he eventually cast a roguish glance in Cassidy's and Ian's direction. "If my deductive skills are still as sharp as ever, you two must have inherited Dougan and Fiona's souls at birth."
"Is that why the pendant didn't hurt you when you touched Ian earlier?" I asked, the memory of it resurfacing in my mind. "I didn't know you had two brothers; Dougan wasn't in the family portrait I saw at the manor."
"Possibly…" Liam pondered. "And if you're talking about the portrait hanging above the arch going into the library's hallway, Dougan had already moved to Scotland when the portrait was made, which is why he isn't in it. He's in the one hanging in the library, though we were kids in that one, so you may not have noticed."
"I was born with your brother's soul?" Ian stared at Liam, a baffled expression on his face.
"Seems likely. It would certainly explain your immediate and, correct me if I'm wrong, mutual attraction for Cassidy. She no doubt was born with Fiona's." Liam nodded, his gaze going to the young woman who was shaking her head in shock, staring at her grandmother. There was a faint smile on the Augur's lips, I noticed.
"My middle name is Fiona…" Cassidy whispered, a scowl settling on her face as she looked hard at the inanimate orb. "Can't be a coincidence at this point… Who was she anyway?"
"I've no clue whatsoever… I left two months before his death and she wasn't in the picture then." Liam admitted with a careless shrug. "By the time I came back, I didn't care about Angus McLeod or any Fiona, really… I started the hunt when I found out his body had been covered in vampire bites and I haven't stopped since."

So, that was what had triggered his need to become a demon hunter then, I thought, pondering the matter silently. I wondered how close he'd been to Dougan… and how much the Seeing had actually affected him; he was going to some lengths to hide his emotions altogether, which was more telling to me than an outright outburst or an evident coldness. He seemed to remain carefully blank and there was no cockiness or even a hint of arrogance in his expression. Catching my probing gaze on him, he quickly brought a smile to his lips, smile that did not quite warm his eyes, I noticed.

"Do you need a moment, Protector?" The Augur asked, interrupting my thoughts.
"That won't be necessary." Liam replied with a sloppy shrug.
"I don't understand what is so important about this amulet, that it needs to be protected at the cost of all these people's lives…" Cassidy murmured, palming the pendant as she spoke. "If they didn't want it falling into the wrong hands, wouldn't it have been simpler to hide it somewhere the wrong hands couldn't reach? Or just fucking destroy it, if it's that dangerous…" She growled, her eyes narrowing into slits as she stared at the orb.

Her hand inched towards it, trembling and she held it there, quite unable to touch its surface it seemed. Tears glinting in her eyes, she shook her head and jerked the hand back on her lap, casting an apologetic glance at her grandmother.

"I'm sorry… I can't." She sobbed, seeking Ian's arms.
"It can't be destroyed, leannan mo ghaoil." Ian answered, eyes riveted on the orb while his hands stroke Cassidy's hair lovingly. "The Mystic told me so when he explained the pendant to me. And… it can't be hidden away somewhere out of reach simply because there is nowhere safe for it to be, except in its owner's hands." He whispered, his gaze shifting to Liam as he spoke. "What was it you said to me about the pendant in the training room the other day, mate?"
"That it has to have an owner to keep its purpose alive…" Liam nodded, thoughtful. "I was just voicing what my intuition was telling me at the time."
"Your intuition has rarely failed you, so I'll go with you on it." Ian told him with a shrug, bringing his gaze back to the orb.
"'Tis a curse at times, that intuition of mine is." Liam grumbled sullenly.
"Well, 'tis time we found out more, isn't it?" Ian sighed, reluctantly brining his hand to the orb. "Maybe we'll know if you're right."
"Whatever comes on the screen…" Liam told him quietly, his voice fatherly, now. "…had already happened, Ian. It's only a replay; nobody's getting hurt this time around."
"Aye, except us." Ian answered grimly, his gaze intent on the orb.