Dressed in traditional attire, Warren, his wife, and Megan left the house. Castle Raven was clearly visible from everywhere. It towered over the entire area, unlike Castle Mal, which was situated in a valley by the river. For about fifteen minutes, the owners of both estates climbed the hill. The evening was warm and pleasant. The sea was calm, and the wind occasionally brushed against their faces. A few minutes later, the group arrived at the entrance of the historical castle.

“It's breathtaking!” Megan exclaimed in admiration, trying to take in all the details of the facade. Her gaze fell upon a majestic three-story stone building made of heavy square blocks. On either side, there were four high rectangular towers adorned with battlements, slightly taller than the main building. Above the massive entrance door was a coat of arms unfamiliar to the girl. And from where the castle stood, there was a magnificent view of a series of cliffs stretching into the sea. The area around this historical structure was empty except for the small chapel containing the Drummond family crypt.

“Warren, why is there a bird on the coat of arms?” Megan asked a bit tensely.

“It's a raven, the heraldic symbol of the clan,” her cousin responded. “As I told you, the last of the Drummonds disappeared, and Castle Raven passed to the McKenzies. Everything here has been left as it was, in respect of the centuries-old friendship between the clans.”

“This bird is now going to haunt me everywhere! And has probably already become my life companion,” the girl murmured.

Once in the main hall, she immediately noted a significant difference between this and the hall of the ancestral home. This one seemed a bit gloomier and colder, with heavy bare stone walls. The furniture, made of mahogany, was upholstered in dark burgundy velvet. A huge, antique chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling. A large fireplace was built into the wall, above which was also the family crest of the former owners. Six tall, floor-to-ceiling windows, lined the façade wall. They were decorated with velvet curtains in the same hue as the upholstery, tied back with gold twisted cords and tassels. Like the neighboring castle, this one also housed many hunting trophies.

“This home isn't as modernized as Castle Mal,” said Warren.

“Well, that's not modern either,” Glenn objected, “but Castle Raven only looks old-fashioned on the ground floor. The last of the Drummonds redesigned the rooms in the style of the late nineteenth century. They're beautiful, cozy and comfortable.”

At that moment, Alaric and Duncan came into the hall.

“Oh, I see you've already become a true McKenzie,” Duncan said, carefully examining his cousin's outfit.

“Our colors suit you very well,” Alaric said approvingly.

“Thank you, I'm glad to see you both.”

In reality, Megan felt quite awkward in their presence. She very much wished for the lingering tension, left after the family meeting, to finally dissipate so they could interact without strain.

“Really?” Duncan asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Warren intervened before anyone could comment further, “How's it going, bro?” Getting ready for Witch's Night?” he cheerfully said, clapping his brother on the shoulder as a greeting. “We've already introduced our relative to the local traditions and recounted the legends of this region. She's eagerly awaiting the festival!”

Megan inwardly thanked Warren for finding a way out of the awkward situation Duncan had created with his question. It seemed the younger of her cousins was not yet ready to let go of the suspicion she had cast on their family.

“That's wonderful! It’s high time she joined our traditions and celebrations,” Alaric said amiably.

“How are you doing, Megan? Have you settled in? How were your days at Castle Mal?”

“Very eventful! We visited the distillery yesterday, and I got acquainted with the production technology. It was interesting to learn and see all this with my own eyes.”

“I'm happy for you, girl! Duncan, go show our guest around the castle!” the eldest of the clan told his grandson.

“With pleasure! Megan, would you mind if I act as your guide for the next half-hour?” he asked with a wry smile.

“I'll be grateful for that!” the girl responded as friendly as possible.

They walked through a stone arch that divided the hall, leading to a wide semicircular staircase with beautiful stone railings. In the flight between the floors, there was a lancet window framed by carved wooden molding. On the windowsill, designed as a bench, lay two decorative pillows made of dark red velvet. The upper floor extended into a gallery, from which there was a view of the hall situated below. Portraits of the Drummond clan members hung on the walls of the gallery. Megan admired everything around her. When they reached the residential area, Duncan opened one of the doors, saying, “Guest room. If you decide to stay in Castle Raven, you're more than welcome. We would be glad.”

The girl liked what she saw. Walls draped in blue silk; a bedspread on the large double bed with the same hue, standing opposite the entrance; a canopy with golden edging, and high windows on either side of the bed. It was a complete surprise to see such a cozy, warm chamber after the somewhat gloomy nature of the lower floor.

“Practically all the rooms have been modified and improved. The last representative of the clan wanted them all to match the era's style. This bedroom was intended for the future mistress of the castle,” the cousin explained.

“For Margaret?! Warren told me this tragic tale yesterday,” Megan exclaimed with passion mixed with surprise.

“Yes, for her. And this inner door,” Duncan swung it open for his companion, “leads to the lord's bedchamber. Voilà!” he sang cheerfully.

The girl eagerly entered. The room was slightly larger than the neighboring one. Dark blue tones, gold trim, more heavy grand furniture, a serious style – everything indicated that a man lived here. Above the headboard of the bed hung the clan's coat of arms.

“Does anyone live here?”

“Nope. Our ancestors didn't touch it for a long time, hoping that Drummond would return. Time passed, generations changed, but it remained uninhabited. There are many other comfortable bedrooms in the house, so let this one remain for the spirit of the lost lord,” Duncan said theatrically, with an angelic smile, amusing Megan greatly.

“Are there really ghosts in here?” she asked skeptically.

"Are you afraid of them? Then come stay with us! Let's see if the spirit of Drummond comes to meet you if you take his former fiancée's apartment. Then you can tell us what he reveals to you,” Duncan joked, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease Megan.

“Not funny! Now I definitely won’t stay with you. You can ask him everything you want to know yourself, and then tell me,” she retorted cheerfully.

“What a coward! I'm joking, of course, there are no spirits here and there never have been. Otherwise, we would have met them long ago. Let's move on, otherwise, while you're looking around here, I'll miss dinner. And that I definitely won't forgive!” the young man smiled.

They went to one of the castle towers and found themselves in a large library. Megan was surrounded by tall shelves filled with a rich collection of books.

“What beauty! I love books so much! I could spend days here without leaving,” she said dreamily. The girl ran her hand over the spines, enjoying the opportunity to touch history. The library housed editions dating back to the 18th century and later. Her gaze quickly scanned the long row of unusual bindings and settled on the legends and tales of Scotland. I mustn't lose sight of these, she thought. I'd like to look at these first.

“What's there?” she pointed to a small door built into one of the bookshelves. It was clear that it led somewhere.