helloooooooooooo! here is part three! i know it's moving fast but the next few chapters will drag out pretty long...i really hope you guys like this one! i couldn't think of any more ways to build up the suspense, so here at the end of the chapter is your big reveal!

thanks to everyone who's been with us for this long-macbeth, banquo, and I all appreciate it!

please everyone read and review! i'd love your feedback!

peace out!

Father Alistair places Banner on the altar and makes the sign of the cross over the infant, then sprinkles holy water on him. Our son doesn't cry at all, only fidgets a little.

"O God, we commend this child to Thee," Father Alistair proclaims, picking Banner up and raising him to the sky, where light streams through the open roof of the christening room. "His name under heaven shall be called as such: Banner Macbeth Findlaech. May he serve Thee all his days and become an instrument in Thy hands."

The priest hands Banner back to Skye, and my wife kisses the baby on the forehead. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and watch my son wave his tiny hands around. He's so sweet. So tiny. I have to protect him.

I have to protect him from the magic.

I can't let him get hurt.

When the christening is finished, we take Banner back to Katavid for his daily checkup. The physician is staying at Inverness for a couple weeks so he can keep an eye on the baby, since Banner came so early.

We go back to the newborn chambers, which I didn't even know we had. It's for new mothers and their babies, and Skye and Katavid are both staying there for a little bit. Katavid wants to be in the same room as Banner all night so if anything happens, he'll be there.

When we get back, Katavid checks Banner over. The baby doesn't cry, but he does grab Katavid's tunic and refuses to let go for several minutes.

"He's looking good," Katavid tells Skye and I. "He's putting on weight just like he should, and his color is good. See how his eyes are focusing more? He can probably make out faces now. I want to keep him here until he's two weeks old, just to be safe, but he probably won't need it."

Katavid hands Banner to me, and my son switches his iron grip to my tunic, pressing his tiny face into my chest. My heart melts for like the fifteenth time in three days. Banner coos into my tunic, and I cuddle my son to my chest.

What am I going to do about the murderer? I'd die if they hurt my son. Or my wife. Or Banquo.

I have to stop them.

I walk into the newborn chambers one day to find Skye sobbing, staring down at a piece of parchment clutched in her white-knuckled hands. Banner is peacefully asleep in his bassinet next to her bed, unaware of what's going on.

"Skye!" I gasp, rushing over to my wife. "What's happened?"

"It's my father!" she wails. "He's—he's been killed! Just like Malcolm and Donalbain!"

Skye buries her face in my chest and sobs, and I rub my wife's back gently, trying to soothe her. I can't believe this—Macduff isn't even the king.

But wait—was he next in line for the throne? He's the oldest of the thanes—it has to have been him. And the murderer has killed him before he can be crowned. To me, it looks like the murderer is just killing off anyone who might be royal.

Wait.

No.

Everyone who has any claim to the throne.

Which means the other thanes are next…

"Skye," I whisper. "I'm so sorry about your father—I know how important he was to you. But I've just realized something that we need to talk about as soon as possible."

Skye looks up at me, her face streaked with tears. "Does it have to do with his death?"

I nod silently. "Skye, do you know if he was next in line?"

"Yes," Skye whispers. "We were trying to avoid telling anyone—Father only told our family, because everyone is worried that a new king will be murdered before he can succeed. But now—"

Skye presses her face to my chest again, crying, and I stroke her hair. "Skye, I'm so sorry. I know you probably don't want to hear this right now, but…I think I might have figured out the murderer's pattern of killing. They killed Malcolm, then Donalbain before he could succeed his brother. Then Macduff, because he was going to be king. So they're killing everyone who has a claim to the throne, probably in order of how strong that claim is. Therefore, me and Banquo are probably close to the top of their hit list. But I'm not worried about that as much as the fact that there is no way the murderer could have known about Macduff's coronation. No one was told except your family, right?"

"Yes," Skye mumbles. "No one else could have known. Father didn't tell anyone else—he swore to the priests that he wouldn't say anything, and only we were going to be allowed to attend his coronation. It was going to be a very secret procedure, since we do kind of need a king to make decisions, but we didn't want anyone to die. It obviously hasn't worked."

"Who's next, then?" I ask. "Ross, right? Then Lennox? And then…"

"You," Skye confirms. "And then Banquo. And then…"

Both of us turn to look at our son, still completely passed out in his bassinet.

"Banner," I whisper. "Oh my gosh, Skye. Our whole family is in danger. If we don't do something now, we'll all be killed. We have to catch that murderer."

Skye looks up at me, her eyes filled with a bright blue fire. "Where do we start?"

"We could use the new king as bait," I suggest. "We could send people to guard his chambers and then wait for the murderer to show up. Or we could send out patrols to look for the murderer. Whatever works."

"Sounds good," Skye mumbles, sinking down onto her bed. "I'm sorry, Macbeth, but I think I need to rest."

I give Skye a kiss on the forehead. "Of course you do. Do whatever you need to. I'll be waiting for you at dinner."

I cross the room to the door and open it. Skye gives a tiny wave, smiling at me as I leave.

But as I shut the door, I swear my wife's sky-blue eyes flash purple.

I stand outside the newborn chambers, suddenly breathing hard. Is something wrong with Skye? First she's saying strange things, then her father is killed with no one else knowing, now this…

My hands fly to my temples as I realize that Banner isn't safe.

I spin around, my head suddenly pounding, and try to yank open the door.

But it's locked.

"Skye!" I scream. "Let me in! Please, let me in!"

No answer. Where is she? What is she doing? What—

I gasp.

Where's Katavid?

The physician is always in the chambers, making sure Banner is okay. Where is he? Why can't he come to the door?

"Katavid! Skye! Anyone! Please, let me in!"

I grab my dagger out of its sheath and stick it in the lock, desperately trying to wrench it open. Finally, it clicks open and I burst into the room.

Banner is gone.

Skye is gone.

And the window is open, letting the cold wind into the room.

I stand there in the middle of the room, completely silent, and then I hear breathing. Slow, deep, even breaths.

Coming from…

I cross the room and kneel down by the bed in the corner, peering under it.

When I realize what the source of the noise is, I gasp and hurriedly pull it out from under the bed.

Katavid.

The physician doesn't look too badly hurt—he's got a massive goose egg on his forehead, but no other injuries. Did Skye do this? If she's involved in whatever is going on, then she probably knocked out Katavid so she could take Banner. The plan is clear to me—Banner is bait to get us to come to the murderer. Or he's a hostage, maybe.

As I check over Katavid's vitals, I realize that there's a piece of parchment tucked into the physician's pocket. I pull it out, my hands shaking as I unfold it.

THE REST ARE DEAD

YOUR SON IS NEXT

"Oh my gosh," I whisper. "Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. No no no no no…"

The murderer has my son. They have my two-week-old son.

And they're going to kill him.

If I'm interpreting the note right…

Lennox and Ross are already dead. The murderer could be bluffing, but I don't think so. And they want me to come to them—probably Banquo too, so both of us will be killed. Then we're out of the way of the throne—we're the last thanes. There's no one else in line.

I've probably said this before, but…

Scotland is doomed.

As I'm kneeling on the ground, clutching the parchment tightly in my hands, I hear a faint groan of pain. Looking up, I see Katavid sitting halfway up, rubbing his forehead.

"Katavid!" I yelp. "Oh my gosh, are you okay? I got locked out and when I came back in you were passed out and Skye was gone and Banner's gone too and—"

"Slow down, Macbeth!" Katavid says. "What's happened? Skye's gone? The baby is gone? And who the heck knocked me unconscious?!"

"I think it was Skye," I say in a rush. "She's been acting…off. When I was leaving, I saw her eyes flash all weird, and then she locked the door behind me. When I got back in, she was gone."

"Banner too?" Katavid asks, and I nod shakily. "Then Skye's taken him somewhere."

"I can't help feeling like this has something to do with the murders," I tell Katavid. "Oh yeah—when I was checking you over, I found this in your pocket…"

I pull out the note and show it to Katavid. The physician's eyes widen. "They have Banner. Are the other thanes dead?"

"Macduff is," I say, and Katavid gasps. "Skye said he was going to be crowned king, but only his family knew. Lennox and Ross—I don't know where they are. I haven't seen them for a while. We could ask the messengers if they've heard anything."

"I really, really hope no one else is dead," Katavid mutters, pushing himself up with the help of the bed. He claps a hand to his forehead and sits down on the bed with a creaking of springs. "Ow!"

"Are you okay?" I ask. "Maybe you should stay here and rest."

"No, I'm fine," Katavid groans. "Splitting headache, but I'll be okay. I've treated a ton of concussions. Just wait for me for a moment."

Katavid smears salve on and bandages the bump on his forehead, and then swallows a few painkiller leaves.

"I'm ready to go," he proclaims when he's finished. "We need to go find the other thanes." He pulls his satchel of plants over his shoulder and turns to me. "Got anything you need to pack, in case Skye got really far away?"

I shake my head, then reconsider. "Well—maybe some sticky buns. And I guess water is probably good."

Katavid and I stop by the kitchens for supplies, and then we split up. I go to find Banquo, Katavid goes to check if there's any news about other deaths.

"Banquo?" I call, peering into my best friend's room. "You in here?"

All I hear is a faint "mmph!"

Something's wrong.

I step cautiously into Banquo's room and discover my cousin tied to the bed, a strip of cloth tied over his mouth. A cut under his eye is bleeding, and his eyes are wide and terrified.

"Banquo!" I yelp, kneeling down by the bed and starting to untie the knots. "What happened? Who tied you up?"

"I don't know!" Banquo gasps as I pull his gag off. "But they were tall and slender and wearing a black hood—and they had the staff, Macbeth! The staff! They came out of my floor, I didn't know there was a passage there, and they tied me to the bed and said something about Loch Lomond, I don't know what they were talking about!"

I finish untying Banquo and pull him to his feet. "Banquo—they took Banner. And Skye's gone. Her eyes flashed purple while I was leaving the chamber and she locked me out. When I got back in, she and Banner were gone and Katavid was unconscious. Something's really wrong, Banquo."

"No kidding!" Banquo gasps, rubbing his wrists where the rope rubbed against them. "Is Katavid okay? Where do you think Skye went? Has she been kidnapped? Did she kidnap Banner? Do you think—"

He cuts himself off, his hand drifting to the back of his neck.

"You can keep going," I tell him.

Banquo sighs. "Do you…do you think she's behind all of this?"

"I don't know," I admit. "I never thought Skye would do something like this, but…" I drag a hand down my face. "Now I'm not sure. She's been acting weird from the very beginning, but usually she seems normal. And I just can't believe she would kidnap our son. The Skye I know would never, ever do that. But now I'm not sure I really know her."

Tears are starting to drip down my face.

"Or if she really loves me…"

And suddenly, Banquo's arms are around my shoulders and I'm sobbing.

"It's okay, Macbeth," my cousin murmurs. "We'll figure this out."

"I'm sorry," I choke out. "I'm just so—so scared."

"We'll find them," Banquo soothes. "Banner will be okay. We'll get him back, and besides, I don't think the murderer would hurt a baby. No one is like that, Macbeth."

I nod, wiping the tears off my cheeks. "Do you—do you want to come with me to look for them?"

"Of course," Banquo tells me. "I'll grab a few things and we can head out."

But just as Banquo finishes packing a few necessities—including baby blankets, which I completely forgot—Katavid comes running up to us, panting.

"The message just came," he gasps. "Lennox has been found dead in his castle, and Ross is missing. No one has seen him for three days."

"He's dead too," I whisper. "He has to be, if the murderer is following the same pattern."

"What pattern?" Banquo asks.

"The murderer killed Malcolm first," I begin. "Then Donalbain, because he was next in line. Now Macduff is dead—but what's strange about that is the fact that only his closest family knew that he was going to be the next king. Skye just told me. And now it sounds like Ross and Lennox are dead—and they're next in line. There's only two thanes left, Banquo—you and me. The murderer is obviously killing off everyone in line for the throne, and you and I are both in that line."

"So…we're going to be next?" Banquo whispers. "Maybe once we're dead, the murderer will stop."

"I don't think so," I tell him. "There's exactly one male heir to any of the thanes, and he'll be the last one to die before the murderer takes the throne."

"Banner," Katavid whispers. "We have to find him—but where could he be?"

We lapse into silence for a few moments, until I remember something Banquo said.

"Banquo," I ask, "what did the person who tied you up say?"

"Well, mostly they yelled at me to stop struggling, but they told me something kinda cryptic."

"What?!" I demand, then lower my voice. "What was it?"

Banquo takes a deep breath. "They said, 'This ends at Loch Lomond.'"

"Loch Lomond," I breathe. "Is that where we need to go?"

"It's all we've got," Katavid declares. "Off to Loch Lomond, then!"

"Not without me!" comes a voice.

Kniertje comes striding down the corridor, her face set in a determined expression. "If you think you're leaving without me—"

"Sure, why not?" says Katavid. "You'd probably be really helpful."

Kniertje blinks, looking slightly confused. "Huh. Didn't think it'd be that easy to convince you."

"I'd prefer you didn't come," Banquo tells his wife. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Oh, please!" Kniertje exclaims, sounding exasperated. "I can take care of myself, Banquo! I lead the Norwegian armies, for heaven's sake! For all we know, I'll be protecting you."

Banquo sighs. "Fine. But if one of us needs to be sacrificed, it's gonna be me."

And with those rather ominous words, we head down to the stables and saddle our horses. I'm still kind of bad at climbing onto a horse, a fact that embarrasses me to no end. Actually, there are a lot of facts about me that embarrass me to no end.

Rain starts to fall lightly as we set off at a gallop toward Loch Lomond. We should be able to reach the loch in about two hours—hopefully we'll be in time to save Banner.

As we ride, I try to stop thinking about Skye. I can't believe she would kidnap our newborn son. Why would she do that? If she really kidnapped him, she has to…

She has to be the murderer.

But Skye would never do that. She wouldn't kill Malcolm after everything we fought for together. And she wouldn't have had time to murder Donalbain.

And her own father?

Skye loved her father. He was her role model.

But his family are the only people who could have known. And what about the purple flash of fire in her eyes?

I place my aching head in my hands as my horse slows to a trot. It feels like I can't tell which way is up anymore. What am I going to do?

Finally, after what seems like eternity but is really only two hours, we reach the slope that leads down to Loch Lomond. The cold wind is blowing fiercely, and the light rain sprinkles the grassy hill and stirs the calm surface of the loch.

And a baby's cry echoes across the turbulent water.

Banner.

"Let's go," I say abruptly, spurring my horse into action. I can hear the others shouting after me as I race down the hill, but I don't heed their cries. I need to save my son.

When I've reached the shore of the loch, I dismount—more like fall off—and stand still in the sand, listening for Banner's cry. It comes again, soft but piercing, and awakens a fire in my heart. That is my baby. That is my son.

And the murderer cannot have him.

I swear if they hurt him, I will kill them. Or at least make them very sorry they ever met Macbeth Findlaech.

Silently, I tiptoe across the bank of the loch. Where's Banner?

I hear Banquo, Katavid, and Kniertje running up behind me, and I turn to meet them as they skid to a halt.

"Macbeth!" Banquo scolds. "You can't run off without us! We don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll probably get hurt anyway," I grumble. "I'm sorry, guys. But my son is out here, and I need to save him."

"We know," Banquo murmurs, his frustration dissipating. "And we'll help you. Come on, let's go."

Banner's tiny cry echoes across the loch again, and I immediately dart toward the sound. I can hear the others following me as I race along the bank, looking for my baby.

Finally, I skid to a halt in front of a large cave. The water from the loch splashes onto the rocks at its entrance, and the cold wind whistles through it loudly.

Inside the cave are three people.

Skye, who is clutching Banner to her chest and looking terrified. Banner, who is gripping his mother's tunic and bawling.

And a tall, slender figure dressed in hooded black robes, holding the blackwood staff with purple feathers. The long branch gives off a bright purple glow, which emanates from the amethyst set into the crook of the smaller branches.

"Macbeth," a voice hisses from under the hood. "Welcome. And you've brought your friends, too. Is this all you have, Lord Macbeth? Your loyal but weak cousin, a Norwegian princess who no one can trust, and—of all people—a physician? Who do you think you are, Findlaech? You thought you would be able to take me down?"

"Maybe?" I mumble. "I just want my son back."

The murderer laughs. "I'll give him back—if you agree to do something for me."

"And that is?"

"You must be a sacrifice," the murderer hisses. "Your blood is the only blood that will work. The credentials are very specific."

"Does this require killing me?" I ask. "Because Gruoch just sliced open my hand when she was doing rituals, and that seemed to work."

"Unfortunately, my dear Macbeth, a simple cut will not suffice. You must die, and your blood must flow down the stones of the sacrificial altar on the peak of Ben Lomond."

I look up at said Ben Lomond, the steep mountain that towers above the loch. Clouds gather around the top, dark gray and flickering with lightning. A storm is coming—maybe that'll make it easier to slip away with Banner.

Then it sinks in that I have to die to save my son.

I'm not afraid of dying. But what would my family do? Banner would grow up without a father, Skye would go for decades without a husband. Banquo might literally kill himself if I died. He'd probably kill the murderer first, then jump off the top of Ben Lomond. If there's any way for me to get out of this alive while still saving everyone else, I need to find it.

But if there's not…

"If you can sacrifice me," I ask the murderer, "will you let everyone else go?"

"Of course. They are of no use to my plan. I do not wish to carry out unnecessary killings, Lord Macbeth. I am not heartless—I simply want the throne."

But I know full well that the murderer will still kill Banquo and probably Banner. If they want the throne that badly, they'll get rid of every possible heir.

"You'll still kill my son," I hiss. "And my cousin. Is that true?"

"Not necessarily," the murderer replies. "I can kill them—or they can peacefully surrender the throne. Their choice. This does not have to be violent."

I nod. "But I'll die either way?"

"Regrettably, yes. As I said, the credentials are specific. This ritual requires the death of a lover—or someone who has fulfilled that role in the past. Only they can help me reclaim my soul."

Wait—

A lover?

But the only person I've ever loved besides Skye is…

Is…

The murderer laughs. "You've guessed it, haven't you," they whisper. "Clever boy—but not quick enough. But nonetheless, I imagine you wish me to reveal myself."

I nod mutely. If my suspicions are correct, we're dead.

The murderer pulls back their—her—hood and gazes at me with soulless black holes for eyes. Her jet-black hair is whipped around her face by the wind, and her tattered dress clings to her emaciated frame. A dark stain spreads across her chest, and blood is all over her death-white face and arms.

She's dead.

She smiles that familiar, wicked, cruel smile, and I know I was right.

"Hello, Macbeth," she whispers in a voice that sounds like a thousand of them echoing around a dark cavern. "I am Gruoch."