It was going on the third day by the time Cuchulainn halted his gelding. He stared up at MacCallan Castle, the sight of which would never fail to make him feel happiness and heartbreak at the same time. Elphame had lived, married, gotten pregnant, given birth, raised her child and died here. The simple view of the front of the edifice brought the echoes of laughter to his mind. The smell of fragrant herbs and splashing water.

"Cuchulainn!" A familiar voice made him turn in the saddle. "What are ye doin' runnin' all over Partholon wearin' out the ground?"

Cuchulainn swung one leg over the horse, grabbed Wynne's hand and dropped nimbly to his feet by her side. "I have a message for Lochlan."

"Ah, well, he's eatin' right now."

"It's urgent. It can't wait."

"Fine, fine. Ye know where the kitchen is lad."

He strode dutifully towards the castle and followed the familiar pathway to the kitchen, pushing past the doors. "Lochlan," he said loudly, and then realized the table was in the middle of a prayer. He mouthed an apology to Ciara and waited for it to conclude, although the respectfully closed eyes were now staring at him throughout the thanksgiving to their Goddess. Cuchulainn had never been anxious for a prayer to end before, but felt an undeniable rush of relief when the candles burst into light and Lochlan was able to excuse himself with etiquette. The pair of men trod out into the hall.

"Is anything the matter?"

"Yes. I, uh…" Cuchulainn stared at the Fomorian, still finding it surreal they were family. "I have a message, and I'm sorry, but it'll be hard for you to hear. It'll…hurt."

Lochlan's expression went flat with apprehension. "I am listening."

"Do you remember the mirror image of Brenna?" Cuchulainn asked quietly.

"Yes, of course; I carried her into the castle with the entire clan watching. The thoughts they must have had…" Lochlan shook his head.

"You remember she crossed into Partholon from another world. Yes?"

"What are you getting at, Cuchulainn?"

Cuchulainn took a deep breath and expelled it in the form of a sigh. "Kaina overheard Brighid and me talking about the Divide in the mirror. She crossed through."

"What?" Lochlan asked, devastatedly.

"She is no longer in Partholon. I'm sorry."

Lochlan still stood tall, but his wings slowly drooped. "I-I cannot believe this," he murmured, though now Kaina's utter and complete absence made sense. He raised his eyes, overcome with incredulity. "Why would she cross?"

Cuchulainn shrugged, overcome with guilt. "I don't know," he began falteringly.

Lochlan turned and took several steps; and Cuchulainn watched him, suddenly wondering if a New Fomorian could turn mad.

"How could she do this to me?" Lochlan asked. "I raised her by myself. I helped her contend with the madness. I gave her my life." He turned to face his brother-in-law. "When she told me she would live in the Wastelands, she was enough for me to go with her. How is it, Cuchulainn, that I was not enough for her to stay?"

"I don't know why she did it. But I'm sorry that she heard."

"As well you should be!" Lochlan snapped. They heard the sound of a chair scraping on the other side of the door, and Lochlan quickly reined in his anger. He turned his acidic eyes to Cuchulainn. "Epona favors your family, Cuchulainn. You let me know when Epona marks her next High Priestess!" he requested with defiance. Turning around, he began to march back towards the kitchen doors. He halted at Cuchulainn's short response.

"It's Rosaine."

Lochlan stood still for a moment, his hand resting on the wood surface of the doors; then he looked over his shoulder at him. "Rosaine has been Chosen?"

Cuchulainn nodded.

"Well. Congratulations," Lochlan said. His words were strained. "I'm sure she will make a fine High Priestess." He pushed the kitchen doors open.

"Wait," Cuchulainn said, and Lochlan let the doors close. "Why did you want to know who?"

"Well, I cannot reach Kaina without someone special to the Goddess. If Kaina refuses to come back to Partholon, Rosaine will assist me." Lochlan again opened the doors and strode through, letting them bang shut.