Leaving her maids to put out the lamps, Cait drifted off to the first truly restful sleep since leaving home. That night she saw Alethea in a dream.

She dreamed that she and her sister were in Caithness. It was a fair summer day, and the two of them were walking along the brow of the high promontory to the south-east of Banvard. The wind was fresh and the sun bright on the water in the bay far below; she could hear the rush and tumble of the waves, and the mewing of the seabirds as they wheeled and circled in the wide, cloudless sky.

Alethea was talking about something which Caitriona could not make out; she listened in a half-hearted way as Thea droned on and on, her voice growing slowly fainter-until Cait could no longer hear her any more. Cait stopped and looked around, but could not see her sister. She called out once and again, but there was no reply.

Fighting down the panic rising in her breast, Cait tried two more times, with no better result; on the third try, she heard Thea answer. The voice came from the direction of the sea, but sounded far away. Realizing what must have happened, Cait rushed to the edge of the promontory and, fearing the worst, looked over. Instead of seeing Thea's mangled body lying on the rocks below, she saw instead a steep and narrow trail leading down to the shingle beach, and Thea herself halfway down along the precipitous track.

'Thea, wait!' she cried. 'Go no further. Wait for me, I am coming to help you.'

At her cry, Alethea looked back over her shoulder to where Cait was starting down the treacherous path. 'Cait, no!' she called. 'Do not follow me. It is for me to go on alone.'

'You will be killed,' Cait shouted. 'Come back.'

Thea shook her head gently. 'No harm will come to me.' She put out her hand and pointed to the bay far below. 'You see,' she said, 'they have come for me. I must go with them.'

Cait looked and saw that a boat had entered the cove, and was making landfall. There were a number of women in the boat, and they were all dressed alike in long hooded robes of grey with a small, curiously short mantle of white covering their shoulders. Two of the women climbed out of the boat and waded to the shore; they came to stand at the water's edge and, looking up, beckoned Thea to them.

'Farewell, darling sister. Do not feel sorry for me. I have never been happier.'

With that, she turned and proceeded down the steep and winding trail. Cait continued to call after her, but she neither looked back, nor gave any other sign that she heard-until, after joining the two figures on the shore, she turned and lifted a hand in farewell. Cait watched as her sister waded out to the waiting boat and climbed aboard; the boat turned and made its way from the cove and out into the empty sea.

Cait stood on the clifftop long after the boat was out of sight. When she at last turned from the wide expanse of water, she saw the sky was dark with angry clouds and rain was beginning to spatter the ground at her feet. She could hear the howl of the wind rising out of the east, and knew there was a storm coming. Still, she refused to leave the place she had last seen dear Alethea.

It was not until the lightning raked the clouds with jagged talons, and thunder trembled the ground beneath her feet, that she finally turned away – only to find that the sky had grown dark and she could no longer see the path. The wind whirled around her, dashing rain in her eyes and tearing at her clothes and hair. She threw a hand before her face and staggered forward, the force of the wind almost knocking her to the ground.

Struggling to her feet once more, she took a hesitant step and then halted, for she did not know which way to go. Frightened now, lest she be swept over the clifftop and hurled to her death on the rocks below, she stood shaking with indecision, and searching the howling blackness for some sign of the path ahead.

Lightning flashed and she saw, illumined by the naked glare, the figure of a man robed in white. The figure's back was to her and he was striding purposefully away. This she glimpsed in the brief light before darkness reclaimed the hilltop.

'Wait!' she cried, lurching forward. The resounding clash of thunder drowned her words, but she made for the place where she had seen the white figure. 'Wait! God help me,' she cried, 'please wait for me!'

The next lightning flash revealed that the man had paused a few dozen paces further on. What was more, he bore a distinct likeness to her father. Could it be? she wondered.

She moved towards him in the darkness, her heart quickening in anticipation. As she drew close, however, the white-robed figure moved on. 'Papa!' she cried, hurrying after.

Desperate now to catch him, she gathered her wet skirts and stumbled ahead. 'Papa, it is Cait! Please, Papa, wait for me.'

Another jagged flash lit up the sky and she saw in the briefly shimmering light that the figure had stopped again. She ran to him. As he made to turn and move on, she lunged and, reaching out, caught hold of the trailing edge of his sleeve.

The man halted and as the sky was torn by another flash, she saw his face at last. He was a young man-much younger than her father, she could see that now-but his youthful aspect was belied somewhat by his old-fashioned dress and the way he carried himself: carefully, as if he did not fully trust his weight to the ground. Still, his dark eyes were keen, and his gaze almost distressingly direct; his hair was dark and thick, and trimmed in the tonsure of a monk.

'Oh,' she gasped, 'it is you.'

'Greetings, Caitriona. Peace and grace be with you always,' the man said. At these words, the intensity of the storm seemed to lessen. The wind calmed and she could hear him plainly. 'Come now, there is nothing to fear.'

'Brother Andrew-oh, please, hurry. It is Thea.' She pointed back towards the precipitous edge of the cliff. 'She went down there and they took her away. We must find her.'

'Have no fear for Alethea,' the monk told her. 'They could not take her anywhere she did not wish to go.'

'But we must save her,' insisted Cait. 'She needs me.'

'Where Alethea has gone you cannot follow,' he said gently. 'She is at peace now.'

Cait stared at him, tears starting to her eyes. 'But I do not understand.'

'Listen to me, Caitriona. You have departed from the True Path. Evil crouches at your heels and only awaits a chance to drag you down. Beware, dear sister.'

She opened her mouth to protest, but the White Priest raised his hand. 'Time grows short. The end of the race is near; the prize awaits. Like your father and grandfather before you, my daughter, you must hold tight to the Holy Light. Cling to it, Caitriona. Put your faith and trust in it alone, and let it be your guide.'

At this, Brother Andrew made to step away. Cait reached out to take hold of him, but her hands closed on empty air and she was alone once more with rain and wind raging around her.

'Please,' she cried, 'do not leave me. Brother Andrew, help me. Help me!'

There came no answer-only the voiceless shriek of the gale and the pelting sting of the rain…

This was how she awoke: with the wild wind screaming over the broken crags, pounding the thick stone walls with tremendous, fist-like blows that boomed with the sound of thunder, rattling the heavy iron-barred shutters, and driving the rain through tiny cracks around the windows.

She could not tell when the storm arose, but knew that she had been hearing it in her sleep for some time. The candles had blown out, leaving her room in darkness deep as the tomb. She heard a sound beside her, and her dream came back to her in a rush. 'Brother Andrew,' she said aloud, reaching out, and praying the White Priest had not abandoned her.

Her fingers touched another outstretched hand; she gave a little cry and jerked her hand away. 'Ketmia?' came the timorous, quivering voice.