The case had been strange from the start. A local murder in Scotland—ritualistic, the police had said. The BAU wasn’t supposed to be there at all, but she’d been pulled in on consultation, old Interpol ties dragging her across the Atlantic. She’d argued with herself the entire flight, telling Hotch she didn’t need backup, that it was nothing but superstition layered over a crime scene.

Except when she got there, there was no crime scene tape. Just old stones on a hill, wind whistling through gaps carved centuries ago. Emily exhaled, running a hand over her face.

“Great. Spent a flight across the ocean for a fairy tale.”

The locals had warned her not to go alone, but when had she ever listened? She wanted quiet. Space. And if there was a ritual to be unraveled, she would figure it out without a tour guide spinning ghost stories.

Besides, most tour guides twisted the stories to fit what the tour wanted to hear.

When she got there, it was... magical..? Is there even a better word to describe the aura she got from the stones? She walked up the hill, looking around the scenery.

She circled the stones, boots crunching in wet grass. They were taller than she expected, each one etched with lichen and cracks, the kind of thing that looked more like weather than carving. Still, there was a rhythm to them, a sense of placement that wasn’t accidental.

Craigh na Dun.

She could hear something. Some type of buzzing? Stupidly, she reached out to touch the stones.

There wasn't a good way to describe what she felt. Maybe the time a helicopter was hijacked and was forcibly crashed with her and Hotch in it. The tumbling and turning of the helicopter and the impact it had.

Next thing she knew... she woke up. But not in her Scotland. Different sky, no city of Inverness. Just... nothing she knew. What year was this?

“Jesus…” She hissed, her hand coming up to grasp her head. The spinning and the “impact” had given her a raging migraine. She slowly got up, looking around. No car. No gun. No phone. What had happened? She turned around again, trying to make sense of what she had just gone through. But there was no logical explanation. But hoofbeats caught her attention. A Highlander. Instinctively, she stepped back. She had no idea who this was and what he was capable of.