The path from the village to the hill trail was open, and it was easy for anyone watching from the marketplace below to see someone walking the route. Sage found many other paths leading from this one or onto this path, whichever it may be; she shrugged as she realised it was all in perspective with who was taking the trail. Sage stopped and took in the panoramic view of the people milling in the marketplace and the ocean beyond it. Perhaps Jeffery knew they didn't take the hill trail beforehand, or maybe he wondered if there was another trail he needed to learn about.

The terrain began to climb, Sage felt a little strain in her legs, and her breathing became laboured.

"Hopefully, it will flatten out again soon," she whispered, panting as she strode forward, rounding a corner and gasping. Sage froze in place as her gaze took in the darkness beneath her. Looking around to see if there was another way to walk, she found herself on the edge of a ledge which moved to her left; if she stepped right, she would disappear into a deep chasm between the path and the rock face opposite, it was wide, and it ran from her right turning sharply and continuing to the left. Frowning, she looked right again, following the chasm as it branched out at an angle and disappeared between two hills. If you weren't paying attention, didn't know the place, or in a hurry, you could fall and die.

"It's a small wonder they don't have a rescue group or some kind of organisation," she whispered as she slowly stepped back and eased sideways to the left, moving along the ledge that now constituted the path, "Smoking Mary's this could be bad for someone suffering from vertigo."

Determined to keep herself safe, Sage moved along the neverending path. Feeling caution and trepidation, at some places, the stone beneath her feet was as wide as her feet and in others, only a little space between the end of her shoes and the drop that could take her life, sweat was standing out on her face and ran down the back of her neck making wet trails down her back plastered against the uneven rockface.

"Slow and steady wins the race," she chanted as a rock shower fell past her, making her pause, stiffen and wait; nothing else fell, and she began to move again, "this has to finish somewhere along here."

Finally, the rock wall at her back ended as she stepped onto a wide trail again. Inhaling and exhaling, Sage mopped her wet face and followed the trail to wherever it headed. She had no idea in which direction she was going or even if it was possible to retrace her steps or find her way home; at the moment, Sage decided to be on a hike, and hopefully, she would find something in these mysterious hills.

The path began to wind through the trees and foliage, making Sage nervous and highly cautious. Striding along a thankfully straight part of the trail, Sage slowly stopped when an old wooden sign displayed a name in several languages; moving toward it, Sage looked at the different lines and counted seven. Sage was grateful she knew four of them ... the others, she figured, were of an older origin.

Stopping and looking around, Sage could see no one in sight, but the sign was well-maintained and words freshly painted.

"Someone has been up here recently or lives here," Sage whispered, moving to the opening of the immense fenced-off piece of ground, "who would like in a cemetery?"

The ground was sandy, with small patches of grass here and there. It wasn't a pristinely kept upmarket graveyard; the grave markers were a mix of wooden and stone, drawing Sage toward them.

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"Whose buried here?" she whispered; for a place that had been here for centuries, there weren't that many graves, "but then again, I suppose it depends on how many people lived here and died here."

Slowly, Sage went from grave to grave, reading the names and dates; the wooden grave markers had tiny stone tablets hanging around them with names and dates on them. The larger stone tablets had names on them. Some of them held Charlotte's family name, and others held the names of Channing, but there was never one with her surname on it.

"The families never saw eye to eye, but how did I end up with both names?" Sage whispered to herself, "I need to get a complete family tree; I wonder if Grandma has one. I know how she was a stickler for that kind of thing," looking around, Sage didn't see any other graves, "where is Charlotte's grave?"

Sage didn't see a mausoleum or crypt anywhere, and she doubted that there would be underground graveyards on this small piece of land; spotting a cave, Sage wondered if perhaps Charlotte's remains were kept there and slowly walked towards it. She paused, looking around as she heard a noise, "Is anyone there?"

No answer came in the sudden stillness. It made Sage shudder a little, and she turned, continuing to the cave entrance. Ducking inside, she paused as the darkness enveloped her, and her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the interior. Moving slowly around the interior, Sage frowned. There was nowhere in there to bury a body.

"Where can she be?" Sage whispered, "There's a date of passing but nothing in the graveyard."

Suddenly, Sage heard a noise; she snapped her head toward the back of the cave, looking at a group of heavily armed men.

"You shouldn't be here," one burly man dripping in weapons said, "you have no right to be in this cave, at this cemetery or on this land."

Moving toward her, he paused as she spoke in hushed tones, "Who do you think I am?"

"You're a Channing," the man said, "you're one of those blood-sucking gold diggers who want what isn't theirs."

"Wow, that would certainly fit the rest of my family," Sage murmured, "but I don't have the same name ..." she paused, " ... well, not in totality."

"We don't care who you are or your name," the man growled, "you need to leave."

"If I do leave ..." Sage said, "... not just here but the land ... everything done to protect this land, its people and restoring it to those who truly own it and love it will be for nothing."

"I don't care what lies you're spewing ..." the man bristled, " ... turn around and leave here and the house by the end of tomorrow or face the consequences."

"I'll leave the cave and cemetery," Sage said, turning toward the entrance; glancing over her shoulder, she shook her head, "but I'm not leaving until I find out about the legend of the house, and my time is running out. So if you want to scare me, drive me off or ..." she waved her hands in the air as though looking for the correct words, "... whatever you have up your sleeve give it your best shot."

Turning, she started toward the entrance when a female voice rang out in the dimness of the cave, stopping her feet from moving.

"If you're not a Channing, then who are you?" the feminine voice asked.

Turning toward the waiting group, Sage scanned them, only seeing men, "I don't identify myself to anyone who cannot face me."

Movement from the back of the group caught Sage's narrowed vision as an athletic woman dressing in jeans and a floral blouse strode through the group of men; they parted like she was a boat, and they were the water she cut through, making her way to her destination. Sage took in the leather boots, the black jeans, the short-sleeved floral shirt open at the neck, and the angry, determined look in a pair of bright blue eyes.

Sage gasped.