At the end of the chain hangs a pendant in the shape of the symbol on Isaac’s worn-out paper. It’s a looping, intertwining series of rings.

“It’s called an eternity knot,” says his father. “Keep looking for it. We’ve left it for you to find.” He pauses. “Isaac, no one can take this from you by force, only if you relinquish it. Which you must not do.”

“Wait,” Isaac says, shaking his head. “Where am I going? Aren’t you coming, too? We’re all together.” He reaches for his father’s hand as his father presses his lips together, an expression Isaac knows means he’s troubled.

“There’s no time to tell you everything, Isaac. And it’s safer if you learn the lessons one by one. Put them together. A puzzle you must solve.”

“I can feel them,” Isaac’s mother says. “You must hurry, Josef.”

Isaac’s father slides the chain over Isaac’s head and tucks it down underneath his shirt, cool against his skin. Isaac hears that sound again, that low hum, and now a soft vibration buzzes where the pendant touches him.

Isaac’s father says, “Don’t take it off. Ever. Not for anyone or anything. Not even for a second.” His father’s voice is urgent. “Promise.”

Isaac nods, blinking. He can’t make sense of any of this, and he still feels disoriented, unbalanced, in a mind-fog. But he wants so badly to show his parents he’s come all this way with the strength they believe he has. He wants to be the wolf.

“Say it,” his father commands, pressing Isaac’s hand between his own.

“I promise,” Isaac says. He places his free hand on his chest, where the pendant lies, cold and throbbing, over his heart.

“Josef,” Isaac’s mother says. “The watch now. Quickly.”

Isaac’s father pushes a small casket toward Isaac. “Take this, too. There’s a castle on the mainland, in Scotland, to the south. Rookskill. Village of Craig. What’s inside this box will connect us. It holds answers.” His father leans forward. “Another promise, Isaac. Don’t open this until you’re inside the castle. That’s where you should be safe. If you open it before, they may sense it.”

“Who are they?”

His mother moves toward the door, lifting her arms. “If Isaac doesn’t go now, they’ll find him.” It sounds like she might cry, her voice breaking. She stands in the doorway, placing her hands on the doorframe as if she’s a shield.

His father says, the words coming fast, “You’ll return to your own time. We’ll stay behind to draw them off. Be wary of the night. They come strongest with the deepest dark.”

A sharp wind blows inside the hut. Isaac’s skin prickles. The hum inside him grows louder, and long shadows stretch across the floor. Isaac blinks. It’s now as dark as twilight.