Bob beamed. ‘I can go tell them we’re all friends now.’ He glanced at Asbar and addressed him in Fomorian. ‘If that suits you? Are we friends?’

Asbar blinked rapidly before turning to me questioningly. ‘There is a lot that needs to change,’ he said.

I nodded. ‘On both our sides. We will need to talk and draw up agreements.’ My voice hardened. ‘We will not accept violence.’

He rubbed his chin. ‘It will not be easy.’

‘Nothing good ever is.’ I glanced at Byron with the tiniest of smiles.

Asbar held out his hand. ‘You have proved yourself,’ he said simply. ‘You have honour. You have…’ he looked at the green expanse stretching out from the castle and faltered for a moment ‘…changed our world. We will change with it.’ His voice hardened ‘We will have to change with it. So, yes, I suppose we are friends. You may go … Bob. I shall send other messengers too. Just in case.’

The little genie fist pumped the air, choosing not to hear the last of Asbar’s words. ‘Bob the genie saves the world! The prophecy was all wrong. It’s me who’s the saviour.’ With that, he zipped away.

I glanced down at the masses of people. Bob was going to be disappointed. The combined glowing swirl of Foinse and the Draoidheachd was already there, drawing enough attention to itself to distract anyone who had considered getting blood on their hands. We were going to have to come up with a better name for it now.

Byron pulled me to him and wrapped his arms round me. ‘I’m sorry about your dad,’ I told him.

He sighed. He wasn’t grieving yet but he would. ‘Yeah. He did it to himself in the end, though. I’m sorry he took all your magic.’

I grinned into his shoulder. He’d only taken what I’d already stolen. Because he had wished for the Gift of Theft from Bob, he hadn’t taken that from me with the rest of the magic. I wasn’t quite as bereft as Byron thought.

‘I’ll get over it,’ I told him. My smile grew. Maybe I’d keep this one secret for a little while longer. Just for fun.

Far below us, the Fomori army stopped their advance. As the remainder of those loyal to Aifric dropped their shoulders and slunk to the side, the front ranks of the Sidhe, trolls, warlocks and Wild Men walked forward cautiously to greet their opponents. There were no smiles but the threat of violence had diminished. Nobody actually wanted to die. We’d been brought up to hate them and they’d been brought up to hate us. It would take a long time before we achieved real peace and I knew things wouldn’t smooth themselves out just because I, Bob, Asbar and a few others said we were okay now. Revolutions might happen overnight but real change took far longer. We’d get there though; we were Scotland, after all.

‘If the prophecy really is coming true,’ I said slowly, mulling it over, ‘then that kind of makes me The Highlander. You know what that means.’