His gorgeous grin illuminates his face brighter than any moonlight. It’s a mix of youthful excitement and something deeper, more profound.
“That’s the spirit!” Cal grins and pulls me up, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze. The infamous loch is just ahead of us, its reputation for twisting reality into Scottish legend looming large.
As we near the water’s edge, the loch seems to hum with an energy that can only be described as otherworldly, its tranquility broken by the odd ripple hinting at something powerful lurking beneath.
A tsunami of excitement surges through me. Itfeels like we’re teetering on the brink of something spectacular. Of course, absolutely nothing is bound to happen here—but wait until I tell Lila we gave it a shot!
“Ready?” Cal’s voice is barely more than a breath against my ear, sending tingles everywhere.
I nod; words have taken flight, leaving me speechless in this pivotal moment.
Together, we take that last step, my boots and his boat shoes teetering dangerously close to the waterline. “On three, we leap,” he murmurs, his grip on my hand becoming even more solid.
“One, two...” he begins.
“Three!” we shout in unison, and our toes spring off the sand. I can’t help giggling, fully expecting us to land in the loch, have a good old-fashioned water fight, and then return to our whisky, crackers and cheese on our blue tartan blanket.
Instead, our world erupts into a technicolor whirlwind. A dazzling array of colors dances across the loch’s surface, creating an ethereal glow on Cal’s awestruck face. It’s like when I witnessed the Northern Lights in Northern Ontario—vibrant ribbons of green, pink, and violet swirling and folding into each other, painting the sky with their mesmerizing display.
The vortex expands at a dizzying pace, its pull intensifying until we’re hovering over the loch’s edge at the precipice of something exhilarating andterrifying. Suddenly, I feel gravity abandon us altogether.
Cal’s hand is wrenched from mine as we’re swept up into the chaos, tumbling headlong through what feels like time itself.
Images flicker past in rapid succession:
Verdant hills peppered with grazing sheep.
Ancient stone castles.
Faces unknown yet strangely reassuring.
“Amelia!” Cal’s concerned voice cuts through the whirl of colors, a lifeline pulling me back from the brink of sensory overload. “Are ye alright?”
“I’m still in one piece!” I call back, laughing breathlessly, my voice barely louder than the vortex’s roar. “Just enjoying the light show!”
The vortex swirls around us like a living thing, its colors shifting and shimmering like a celestial ballet. It feels as if the universe itself has wrapped us in a kaleidoscope of dreams and possibilities.
And then, everything comes to a jarring halt. We land in an ungainly heap on soft grass, gasping for breath as we try to make sense of the unimaginable. Slowly, I lift my head and find myself locked in Cal’s gaze. His eyes are wide with shock and exhilaration.
“Mills,” he pants out breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion and disbelief.
“I dinnae think we’re in Kansas anymore.”
I blink rapidly to clear my vision as I stand there, trying to process what I’m looking at. The rolling hillsand jagged cliffs seem familiar yet eerily different; everything has an uncanny aura. Even the stars appear too brilliant for a 21st-century night sky.
“Cal...,” my voice breaks the silence of the night as I stammer out words that seem impossible even to myself:
“I don’t think we’re in our own freaking time anymore!”
Cal pushes himself upright from the unfamiliar grassy terrain we’ve landed on and offers me a hand. His brows knit together as he takes in the alien landscape.
“Take a look around,” I tell him, my voice trembling with fear and exhilaration. “There isn’t a single hint of the 21st century—no power lines, no streetlights. Just an ocean of stars!”
He squints into the shadowy expanse and does a slow pirouette, absorbing every detail of the pristine wilderness encircling us before his gaze locks onto mine again. When he finally breaks our silence, doubt flickers in his eyes.
“All these years... I’ve been spinnin’ this tale... never fully believing it myself. The legend... It’s real?” His voice is laced with disbelief as he grapples to understand what his words imply.
“Mills,” he begins cautiously after a pause that feels like years rather than seconds. “It looks like we’re still in Aven Valley... just perhaps not during a timewhen jeans and boat shoes are considered fashionable.”
