Robert limped through the misty Highlands with each step sending pain from his bruised jaw and scraped palms. The charm crystal weighed heavy in his pocket and burned against his thigh like it held the American's threat. The man's voice echoed in his mind and warned him to stay out as the taser's green glow lingered in memory. Anger pushed him toward the dig site despite the ache in his side where the jolt had hit. He gripped the crystal and thought he would show that bastard what threats got him.
The camp appeared through the fog with tents sagging under a gray sky. Hamish's shovel scraped dirt in the roped-off pit in a steady rhythm that cut the quiet. Robert staggered to the edge and winced as his scraped hands brushed his coat. Hamish looked up with his shovel paused and eyes narrowed at Robert's battered face. "Christ, mate, ye look like shite," he said. "What the hell happened in Kilrain?"
Robert slumped against a tent pole with his breath ragged. "Got jumped," he muttered as his jaw throbbed. Hamish dropped his shovel and crossed the camp in three strides to haul Robert to a tent. "Sit, ye daft bugger," he said and grabbed a first aid kit to clean Robert's scrapes with rough but steady hands. "Bar fight, was it? Blowin' off steam?" he asked and tried a grin despite worry creasing his face.
"Nah," Robert said and winced as antiseptic stung. "Some bastard with a taser. Tomorrow, Hamish. I'll tell ye everythin'. Just… need sleep." He thought he couldn't think straight with the pain clouding his head. Hamish frowned and bandaged Robert's palms. "Aye, fine. But ye're spillin' it all come mornin'," he said and helped Robert to a cot where exhaustion pulled him into a deep dreamless dark.
Morning light filtered through the tent's canvas and cast blurry shadows across the dirt floor. Robert flexed his sore hands with scrapes smarting under Hamish's bandages and a dull ache lingered in his jaw. He brewed coffee on a portable burner with the bitter steam warming his face and settling his nerves for a moment. Each sip pushed back the dread but the crystal in his pocket pulsed hot like it held the stranger's warning.
Hamish stomped in with his face tight with concern before Robert finished the mug. "Ye gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to beat it out of ye?" he demanded.
Robert sighed tiredly. "Was waitin' till ye had coffee, but fine. Ye need to hear this," he said. Hamish's scowl deepened as Robert explained the stranger's grip like a vice and the slam against Kilrain's wall and the taser's shock and the threat to walk away. Hamish cursed and paced the tent. "I should've gone with ye! That bastard wouldn't have got close," he said.
"You tell me if ye see him again, Robert. Do ye hear me? Ye need to tell me," Hamish said low and angry and kicked a discarded soda can. "Ye won't go alone, next time." Robert was patient and knew Hamish's anger was at himself for not being there when Robert needed allies. "I will," Robert said and raised bandaged hands to calm him. "But I ain't goin' back to Kilrain till I have to."
Hamish marched out of the tent and frustratedly hacked at weeds around the camp. Guilt ate at him despite his anger. Robert finished his coffee in silence. He grabbed his gear and headed to the dig site though each step ached but didn't stop him. The acetaminophen would kick in soon enough. Hamish followed with a shovel in hand and silent determination in his eyes. The Highlands greeted them with a cool damp breeze and mist clung to the grass. Rolling hills slept under gray clouds and the roped-off dig site waited half-hidden in fog. Robert knelt by the pit and felt a pull from beneath the soil stronger than simple curiosity.
"I'll give ye a hand," Hamish said with a gruff voice. "Not lettin' ye face anythin' alone today." Robert showed him how to sift soil gently and watch for color or texture shifts. Hamish listened and tried to set his frustration aside. They talked about techniques but Hamish paused and straightened. "Ye remember old Magda in Ullapool? Always warned me about hidden curses in the earth," he said. She claimed her uncle dug near Inverness and came back haunted. Robert shrugged and said folklore had a seed of truth but was usually overblown. He thought of his dad's stories with unease stirring as tales of relics binding souls echoed.
They dug in unison with the soil giving way like it wanted to spill secrets. Robert's trowel scraped something solid and sent a jolt up his arm that stung his bandaged palms. He brushed dirt away and revealed a dark surface. Hamish dropped to one knee with eyes wide. "What is that?" he asked. "A chest, I think," Robert murmured. "And it looks… untouched." The wood bore no decay with Celtic spirals and runes matching the capstone carvings Robert found weeks ago. He thought it was centuries old but untouched and his heart pounded.
"This isn't right," Robert said quietly. "This wooden chest has been buried for centuries. It shouldn't be in this pristine condition. It should be rotted through if present at all! Not looking like you buried it yourself yesterday!"
Hamish peered over Robert's shoulder to get a better look. "Maybe it's a trick? Someone plant it there?" he asked. Robert thought about it for a moment but concluded, "That's not possible. The earth was too naturally packed, stones were naturally present, we had to dig it out from natural terrain formation."
A raven cawed overhead and perched on a broken stone pillar with its gaze prickling Robert's skin. Hamish shifted his gaze to the distracting bird. "Ech. I never liked ravens. Too clever by half," he said distastefully. Robert forced a grin to hide his unease. "They're just birds, Hamish," he said.
They eased the chest free lighter than it should've been with dust sparkling in the dim light. Robert tested the latch stubborn at first. "Stubborn," he muttered. "But not surprisin' if it's ancient." Hamish stood to the side with his shovel ready like he expected trouble to leap from the box.
A memory of his father's voice rose in Robert's mind. "Some things aren't meant to stay hidden forever," he had said. Robert braced himself and gave the latch another firm tug. It clicked softly and released its hold. He lifted the lid a fraction and warm golden light spilled out soft as candlelight and lit his battered face. Hamish drew in a sharp breath. "That's… that's not normal," he said.
Robert swallowed hard. "Nothin' about this is normal," he said and tried to peek inside the slim opening. All he could vaguely make out were metallic shapes glinting in the glow. His mind raced with possibilities. A swirl of air swept the site and chilled his jacket. Footsteps crunched behind them faint but close.
They spun around but the dig site stood empty with mist curling among half-buried stones. The raven cawed again louder with its silhouette circling above. Hamish whispered that they weren't alone. Robert shook his head and felt unseen eyes watching them. He thought of the stranger's warning and his stomach churned. He gripped the lid with the light pulsing and urging him to open it fully. Hamish hovered with his shovel gripped like a club and said with unease, "Robert, maybe we should wait. Ye don't know what's in there."
"I have to see," Robert said with his voice shaking with defiance. "That stranger tried to scare me away. There has to be a reason." He pushed the lid further with the glow flickering and shapes inside gleaming clearer. Footsteps rushed closer and Hamish raised the shovel and spun. "Robert, wait!" he barked and scanned the empty pit. Robert froze half-bent over the chest with light dancing across his face. His hands moved on their own now and he felt like he was no longer in control.
He simply couldn't wait any longer and had to know what was inside there.
He stared at the light and felt a presence rush past like a spirit brushed by and dove into the chest. Hamish's voice was tense. "I swear I heard runnin'. No one's here, but…" he said. Robert couldn't speak transfixed by the golden glow and its impossible pull. He thought a soul had rushed past him but was unsure why. The mist thickened and the raven's caw faded and left only the chest's soft light and their ragged breaths.