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Despite Megan going to bed without any worries, her night was tormented by nightmares. Margaret, whom Warren had spoken about the day before, sat in a chair by the window in Megan's room, half-turned with her legs pulled up to her chest, crying, and occasionally pressing a handkerchief to her face. She wore a mourning dress, and her black thick hair was spread over her shoulders. The girl's face was in the shadow of the dimmed light.

Then Megan dreamt of the crypt. She was running through its corridors, hearing behind her, “You can't escape from the past.” This cry echoed from the tomb where Margaret's remains lay. And at the exit from the crypt, Mary, whom her cousin also mentioned, opened the door for her. She appeared to be about fifty years old and must have been a beautiful woman once. Mary said, “Go, it's still possible to change everything.” On a large stone by the chapel sat a black raven, watching Megan. And at the castle's door stood her grandfather Malcolm, who told her, “Thank you for coming, I'm very glad. Now I know you need to be here. It had to happen; the time has come. Mary is right; everything can still be changed. Go forward through life without fear, no matter what and in spite of everything. I will protect you, my girl.”

At these words, Megan woke up. It was six-thirty in the morning. Good thing it's light, she thought, or I would have gone mad with fear after such a dream. Regaining her composure, she noted that the window was closed, and everything was in its place.

Leaving her room, Megan attempted to recall where her grandfather's office was located. She stopped in front of one of the doors, feeling that Gregor had pointed her here. Upon entering, she realized it was Malcolm’s bedroom. Her heart clenched with sorrow. She caressed the pillow on the bed.

Looking around, Megan noticed another door. The manager had mentioned that the office was next to the bedroom.

Indeed, a few seconds later, she saw Grandpa’s desk at the center of the room. To the left there was a lancet window and a bookcase filled with various folders. Behind the chair, on the wall, hung a large canvas in a frame, at the top of which boasted the family coat of arms, and beneath it, the genealogical tree of the McKenzie clan. Sitting at the desk, Megan began to examine the contents of its drawers. In one, she found a bunch of keys mentioned by Warren yesterday. In others, were various documents, seals, and writing instruments. She opened the folder she had brought with her, and for the next two hours, she meticulously studied the affairs of the distillery and all matters related to the upkeep of the castle.