Aisling slammed against something hard. Her bones crunched, her entire body exploding with the force of the impact. She imagined herself scattered like stardust across the cosmos, her essence a streak of light in the endless darkness of space.

Time passed. She waited, gasping, until the pieces of her body seemed to coalesce again. Her shape took form. Her muscles knitted together, the blood once again ran through her veins. And with her form came the pain, rolling over her like a dark cloud, bringing her mind back to the circumstances of her disembodiment. Wherever and whatever she was now, it had forever changed her.

Time passed.

Aisling had no way of calculating how long she lay face down, the skin of her face crawling with strange fibrous wisps, her skin crushing against her bones, her veins alight with molten lava.

So this is dying.

The pain faded to a dull roar in her ears, an ache coursing through her body. Aisling lifted her head, and forced her eyes open. Bright light pierced her vision. After a few moments, her eyes adjusted. She lay in a field. The wisps that tickled her face and skin were long stalks of maize, blowing gently in a cool breeze. A few inches in front of her face, a bright blue teacup sat on its side, half covered in soil. Right next to it, one of Niall’s arrows stuck from the soil like a porcupine quill.

Beyond the edge of the field, Aisling could see trees, and the pale line of a dirt road extending on through gently sloping farmland. There wasn’t another soul in sight. Where is Mother? Where’s Bethany and June? The only consolation of dying was that she’d be reunited with them, but shouldn’t they be here?

Is dying being alone forever?

Beside her, someone moaned. Niall. She wasn’t alone. Niall’s here. She wriggled her fingers, finding the satisfying warmth of his hand still gripping hers.

One painful inch at a time, Aisling turned her head toward him. Like her, he lay on his stomach, his arms and legs spread wide, crushed maize jutting out from beneath him at all angles. A long gash ran across his cheek, and dried blood and dirt marred his angular features.

He was with her. They were together. That was all that mattered. Aisling squeezed his fingers, the effort causing a spasm of pain to rocket up her arm. Why did her body hurt so bad?

“Are we dead?” she mumbled, her tongue sticking to her mouth.

“I think if we were dead, we wouldn’t hurt so bloody much.” The corner of Niall’s lip twitched, and he winced with the effort.

Aisling dropped his hand, pressed her palm into the warm dirt, and a little at a time, she rolled her broken body onto its side. Niall followed suit, groaning as he shifted the shoulder where the arrow had sliced him.

“We made progress,” she huffed.

“Great,” Niall said, his breath rasping. “With any luck, we’ll be on our feet by nightfall.”

“There’s nothing around,” Aisling said, staring across the field at another sprawling expanse of maize, stretching on and on into the distance. “No landmarks or anything. I guess we should follow that road—”

“Look,” Niall croaked, raising his finger to point beyond Aisling’s shoulder.

With agonising slowness, she twisted around, and saw what he was pointing at. A figure ran toward them through the maize. A black man, dressed in brown, dirt-stained overalls. His tall frame jerked like a puppet as he propelled himself forward on long, spindly legs, and he waved his hat so hard his shoulder looked in serious danger of dislocating. He looked vaguely familiar, but Aisling couldn’t place him.

“Excuse me,” he called out to them, his voice dripping with an old-fashioned southern drawl. “Are y’all alright?”

“We’re—” Aisling started to speak, but her voice came out as a dry croak. She coughed, and tried again. “We’re fine, thank you.”

The man reached them, and without even pausing to catch his breath, he hauled her to her feet and hugged her. Aisling gasped for air.

“Lucky ah found you, Miss. Your horse must’ve thrown you and bolted. Ah ain’t seen the creature around, but he can’t have gone far now.”

“My … horse?”

“Of course, dear.” Niall, who’d managed to get to his feet also, steadied her arm. “How else would we have landed facedown in this field if we hadn’t been thrown from our horse?”

Aisling nodded, understanding Niall was trying to cover for their strange appearance in the middle of the field. “Yes. That’s right. Of course. We were taking a shortcut across this farm when something spooked the horse.”

“Ahm not surprised. Ah was over yonder, when ah heard this almighty great clap of thunder.” The man spread his arms wide. “Ah was expecting the heavens to open, but ah was mistaken. Ah came over to investigate, and ah found y'all lying here.”

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” Niall rubbed his chin and looked meaningfully at Aisling. “I remember a loud noise too. It might’ve been a gunshot.”

“Ah hope not. Damn Barker boys, poaching on mah master’s land again.”

“What’s your name?”

“George, ma’am.” He lifted his hat and tipped it to her. “Ah belong to Master Wilcox, up at the manor yonder. This here is his land you’re standing on.”

George? The name tugged at Aisling’s memory. There was a George connected with the Hollow someone, in one of her grandmother’s old stories …

“It’s a pleasure, George,” she said, falling into the formal way of speaking he seemed to expect from her. “Can you tell us …” Her voice trailed off, as the details of the landscape started to make sense in her head. The road, the tall Southern live oak on the horizon, even the gentle slope of the land … it all looked awfully familiar, as though someone had crawled into her childhood memories and pulled out this picture. Everything was the same, except …

She glanced all around. “Where’s the house?”

“Wilcox homestead is just over the fields,” George said.

“No, the Hollow.” Aisling walked a few feet away, scanning the horizon, her heart pounding. “It’s a huge house built in the Gothic style. It can’t be that far away from here.” She spun in a circle, a knot tightening in her chest. ”Why isn’t it here? Why can’t I see it?”

“Ain’t no house round here that looks like that.” George scratched his head. “Just Wilcox over yonder and the Meadowford Roach over on Cassock.”

“You mean …” Her stomach churned. Her knees trembled. I thought I’d saved it, but I can’t have, because it should be here. It should be right here, right where I’m standing, I’m sure of it. And this is George, who first met Lady Greymouth on the road and introduced her to his master—

So they had travelled back in time. But why, why isn’t the house here?

Niall grabbed her arms, his eyes dancing. “Aisling, stop. Don’t panic. I think I have this all worked out.”

“Then start explaining.”

“You can’t see the Hollow because it hasn’t been built yet.”

“But it should be here!” Aisling wrung her hands. She could feel panic rising in her chest. “This is the exact spot. That’s George, who Lady Greymouth set free after he saved her from a horse-riding accident. But he doesn’t even seem to know her. It’s all wrong.”

“Of course he doesn’t know her.” Niall smiled, gripping her shoulders and staring deep into her eyes. “He only just met her.”

Aisling stared into George’s kind face, and the truth dawned on her. “No.” She shook her head, grabbing Niall’s shoulders to keep from falling over. “No. It can’t be.”

“Are you ill, ma’am?” George stood over her, looking worried. “Should ah take you to mah master?”

Niall laughed, and wrapped his arms around her. “Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life, Lady Greymouth.”

“Lady Greymouth?” George looked shocked. “You’re dressed awful funny for a lady, if you don’t mind mah saying, ma’am.”

“These … these are my traveling clothes,” she said, the words sliding from her throat easier than she could ever have imagined. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen this ensemble before. It is the latest fashion in the city.”

“Ah must take your Ladyship to mah master.” George gave her a deep bow. “Ah know he would want to meet you an’ your companion.”

“I don’t think—” Aisling started, but Niall stepped forward and shook George’s hand.

“We’d be delighted to meet Mr. Wilcox,” he said. “In fact, I think we might be able to offer him a deal. Lady Greymouth is quite taken with this site. I think she would like to buy it to build her home on.”

“Niall,” Aisling hissed. “We don’t have any money. How can we—”

Niall grinned wider. He whipped his other arm around, and Aisling saw something clenched in his fist. One of the hideous dog statues – made of solid gold. The dog's eyes were two large diamonds that sparkled in the sunlight.

“It’s solid gold,” Niall said. “In this century, it’s worth a small fortune. Certainly enough to buy these fields.”

Aisling’s mind reeled. “How is this possible?” she asked. “How could I be Lady Greymouth, when she’s my ancestor? And how come you don’t seem surprised about any of this?”

“Because I’ve been putting this together for a little while now,” Niall said. “You were the one who led us here, Aisling. I mean, the you who is Lady Greymouth. You laid all the clues. You made the hallway to the ballroom. You even played the waltz in the ballroom for us.”

“But I didn’t do any of that. I don’t have the power for that kind of enchantment.”

“Yes, you did.” He looked at her. “At least, you’re going to. Don’t you see? Lady Greymouth’s incredible life – building the Hollow, having adventures, helping the sick and those in need of justice, hosting all those elaborate parties, even going to the beach – is really your life. All those tales your grandmother told you about her, you get to live them. And as you do, you build the clues into the house, you weave your own magic into the walls of the Hollow, you master the magic of dreams in order to bring two unlikely people together. You create the secret hallway and make your voice travel through the void, so that in hundreds of years time, Aisling will come along again, with her fae lover, and she will defeat the fae once more.”

“But … that’s a paradox.”

“You said to me once that the Hollow was a paradox.” Niall shrugged. “Perhaps paradoxes are allowed.”

“We can go to the beach?”

He laughed, and kissed the top of her head. “We could go to the beach every single day.”

Something rubbed against her leg. Aisling leaned down and scooped up Widdershins. “You knew all along, didn’t you, bud?” She nuzzled his fur.

George stepped back, his face creased with concern. “It’s bad luck to cross a black cat like that, ma’am.”

Aisling smiled. “This little guy?” She held up one of Widdershins paws. “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. I have a feeling he’s actually a bringer of good luck.”

“If you say so, ma’am.” George turned, gesturing over the hill. “We should get going, if ahm to get you back in time for lunch.”

Widdershins snuggled into Aisling’s hair. She passed her arm through Niall’s, resting her head on his shoulder, breathing in the deep, beautiful scent of him. She couldn’t believe only a few minutes ago she was staring down into the void, looking into her own death. And now, after years of being trapped, of living in the prison of the Hollow, the house had given her the most precious gift of all – the gift of a long life, filled with love. “We’d better go see Mr. Wilcox, then. I have a feeling we’re about to make his whole year.”

* * *

* * *