She stood watching them from the mountain pathway above the beach, her eyes tracking the woman below as she moved along the shore as she had so many years before. That journey had been unsuccessful, as they had all bitterly learned at the end.

"Please let this journey be the one," she whispered. The woman below paused near the rock face at the end of the sandy beach and looked around, then moved toward the exposed, jutting surface. "What have you found?"

She watched as a gentle hand stretched out toward the rock face and pressed onto—she frowned—no, into the rock's surface. A shuddering rumble could be heard from the earth. Glancing around, she waited for the earthquake to continue, but it stopped. Looking down at the beach again, she narrowed her eyes on the woman below, whose hand still seemed enveloped by the rock face; her body language showed that whatever was happening gave her much stress.

"That never happened to me," she whispered, "is that why I was unsuccessful?"

Voices on the path caught her attention. Her head snapped up, and her eyes darted in every direction, seeking where they had come from. Glancing at the beach, she sighed, frowned, and looked around.

"They must not be seen," she whispered, glancing at a path she rarely took. She shook her head, "If I must lead them to treachery and death to protect our legacy ... that is what needs to happen."

Looking at the woman on the beach again, she turned and made her way towards the death cliffs, ensuring those who followed heard her and would follow.

Below on the beach, Matthew watched the lone figure above; what was she doing up there? What had made her take that path? The rumble of the earth drew his attention to Sage and her progress, but when he looked up again, the figure above was moving away from the cliff path. Where was she going?

Why was she going?

His blood chilled when he saw the small band of men following her direction. May she make it to the rendezvous in time and in the end.

"What is keeping Sage?" Stuart whispered, shuddering slightly, "We need to move; there is something ... sinister in the air."

"Yes, very sinister," Matthew said, watching the last men disappear. They were so intent on their quarry that they didn't look at the beach below. Could that be the intention? To buy them time to complete the journey. Glancing at Sage, he noticed she still had her hand in the rock face but leaned heavily against the wall. Concern sliced through him as he waited, her hand released, and she sagged against the wall. Stuart moved in her direction, but Matthew's hand shot out, grasping his arm,

"Give her a minute," he whispered, "remember, she needs to do this journey alone."

"Yes, but does that mean she cannot have some help?" Stuart asked.

"That's exactly what it means," Matthew said, meeting the younger man's gaze, understanding and knowledge shining in their depths.

"You've done this before," Stuart whispered.

"Many times," Matthew said, sighing, "this is the first time that any of what we're seeing is happening. Sage needs to find the strength to return to the boat and continue. If she cannot … she will not have the strength to complete what Charlotte started."

"Everyone keeps saying that," Stuart said, sighing, "but what really did Charlotte start …" he paused, shaking his head, "… besides how much strength did it take for Charlotte to start all of this … whatever this really is."

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Matthew nodded, "We don't really understand what was required when Charlotte conceived this … trail for the true ownership to be held by the right person or the correct line," he sighed, glancing at the slowly approaching figure of Sage, "but I do know one thing, it is our purpose to protect whoever that is and that is what we're going to do."

Stuart nodded, "I hear you. I would just like to understand the details; I guess it's because of who I am and the line I was purposed for."

Nodding, Matthew turned to Sage, "Everything okay?"

Sage nodded, giving a weak smile, "There is one more stop before the end. We need to make it and move on."

Nodding, the trio walked down to the boat. When Sage hesitated next to the vessel, Matthew offered his hand. She gazed at the extension of help for a moment before smiling at him thankfully and shaking her head.

"I need to have the strength to finish this," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes, "otherwise everything will be … meaningless and in vain."

Nodding, he waited for her to enter the vessel and seat herself. Glancing meaningfully at Stuart before he climbed aboard and headed for the wheel, Stuart glanced around and up toward the cliff path, finding a lone figure staring down at them. Hopefully, whoever it was couldn't see who they were. Pushing the boat into deeper waters, he pulled himself onboard as the engine engaged, and they moved off to the final stop before the end—whatever the end may be.

Reaching for a blanket, Sage wrapped herself in its woven warmth. Images of this island's history still flashed through her mind: the horrors, the knowledge the earth held, the faces of the perpetrators of the violence and heartache, the decisions about what this island was to be used for as time passed, and finally, what it was used for now.

The roller coaster of emotions, horror, terror and emptiness still raged through her, mingling with all the other knowledge she had learnt along the way. Silent tears for the agony of those who had used that island rose and ran freely down her face as the faces of the slaughtered each came to mind as though a mental memorial for the lost was her due. A large, deep purple handkerchief appeared in her blurry vision; glancing up, she found Stuart smiling gently. Nodding her thanks, she took the offered cloth and mopped at her drenched cheeks.

The emotion still ripped through her and at her; it was as if she had been there, experienced every savage, merciless death, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She felt sick at the expressions of pleasure she had seen on the faces of the executioners. The pure enjoyment of a born killer. The heartless way they took life with no pause, remorse or thought of what they were extinguishing.

Shaking her head, she allowed a fresh surge of tears to run as she grieved the loss of life, the loss of something far more precious than she could understand. It was just out of her mental grasp, an elusive whisp of a link to the past she never knew of but wished she had. The bench sagged next to her. Turning toward the movement, she found Stuart simply sitting. He didn't speak or look at her. He just sat.

"How far are we from the last stop?" Sage whispered.

"Don't know," he smiled gently, "we're waiting to see the orb."

Nodding and giving her cheeks a final mop, Sage lifted the orb and turned it so they could see their direction: "Apparently straight ahead."

Slowly, she lifted her finger and drew a line from where they were to where they needed to be. Mist rose in front of them, and they passed through. On the other side, Sage took in the cove they had started at. Looking at the orb, she noticed the red line that had shown the path for them to travel turned to white, linking the islands. Turning the orb slowly as the boat came to rest on the beach, Sage gave a gasping sob. The lines revealed an interlinking C and S, both letters being part of her initials.

"What's next, Charlotte?" she whispered as she slowly climbed from the boat onto the warm, damp sand and looked around. Breathing in, she noted that the air smelt differently from when she had first started.

"Are you ready, Sage?" Matthew asked, as her friends and, now she realized, family joined her on the sand.

Looking from Matthew to Stuart and finally Maddy, she nodded, "I'm so privileged to have my family with me on this journey."

The men smiled their acknowledgement, but Maddy stared at her momentarily before sighing. Her expression softened, and she smiled warmly.

"Let's finish this journey," Sage whispered, placing the blanket back in the boat and starting across the sands.