I was woken by the piercing crow of a cockerel heralding the arrival of a new day.

My eyes abruptly flew open as I attempted to gather my bearings, and as they adjusted to my surroundings, I spotted Cormac apparently doing the same.

"Foghorn Leghorn's awake, then," I grumbled as the rooster engaged in a second round of stridency with admirable gusto.

Rolling onto my back, I rubbed my face and yawned.

"Do you mean the cockerel?" asked Cormac, confused.

Still a little dazed, it took me a moment to consider that my flippant remark was over a hundred years before its time.

"Yes, I mean he's just really loud," I clarified. "I'm not used to being woken up like that."

Blinking, I recollected the events of the previous night and shivered.

"It's better than being woken up by one of the sidhe, though," I decided.

"To be sure," he agreed. "Do you have any idea what that sidhe was doing here?"

"Didn't you hear it?" I asked. "It said it needed to use the Amfáinne."

Cormac shook his head.

"I didn't hear that. What's one of those?"

"I have no idea, but it also said something about being out of time."

"Out of time for what?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "None of it made any sense to me. And if it doesn't make sense to you either, then I guess we just have to hope that it got whatever it was that it wanted and that it doesn't come back."

"I hope you're right," he said. "But it might still be worth asking Mrs Doyle whether she knows what an Amfáinne is? Just in case?"

I agreed.

It wasn't long before we were washing ourselves using a small pail of tepid water provided by our benefactor. While Cormac's arm was exposed, I changed the dressing using a little more of the salve. After donning a selection of the clothing that Mrs Doyle had given to us the previous day, we were presented with a hearty breakfast of fresh eggs, which was devoured with zeal within minutes.

Mrs Doyle seemed relatively unfazed when we told her about the sidhe that had been in her barn. Rolling her eyes, she treated it with the same level of concern and disdain as she might if it were just informed her of the presence of a rat. Perhaps this was because sharing a locality with these creatures meant that the citizens of Doran had become accustomed to their presence, but whatever the reason, she remained composed throughout our discourse.

"Pesky critter," she tutted as she collected our crockery for washing up. "I have no idea what it thinks it would find in my hay barn."

"It was trying to use something called an Amfáinne apparently," I told her as I followed her to the sink, making it clear I would assist in cleaning the plates. "But neither of us knows what that is."

"I wish I could help you," she sighed. "But that doesn't mean anythin' to me, so I still don't understand what it was doin' here."

"Maybe it was trying to finish what it started," Cormac mumbled.

"You think the sidhe were responsible for your house fire?" Mrs Doyle asked as she turned to face him.

"You said yourself that you couldn't make sense of what it was doing here," he pointed out. "If the sidhe were attempting to get rid of me, it would explain why one of them came back."

"Surely you know better than that, Cormac," she responded with a heavy sigh. "What reason could the sidhe possibly have to want to kill you?"

"What reason did they have to kill Eithne?" he countered.

"Seamus always maintained that although one of the sidhe was aggravatin' her, Eithne died because she lost her footin' and fell over the edge of the cliff," Mrs Doyle reminded him. "And she's the only one in Doran to meet their death from the sidhes' provocation."

"That we know of," Cormac interjected.

Mrs Doyle's frustrated expression softened.

"All I'm suggestin' is not to lose sight of certain people in the village that think that attackin' you is justified," she explained.

"Thank you for the suggestion," Cormac managed politely, despite his clenched jaw.

I stayed quiet throughout their exchange. There was clearly something more going on than I was aware of, but it didn't feel like the right time to ask.

After the breakfast clutter was cleared away, I asked Mrs Doyle to put me to work around the farm. I made it clear that if Cormac and I were going to stay in her barn, I wanted to earn our keep.

Despite Cormac's arm still being painful, he agreed with the sentiment and also offered to do what he could to assist. Although limited in his physical capabilities, it seemed there were still plenty of small tasks he could manage with his free arm, like feeding the chickens and collecting their eggs. With that in mind, our host showed him how to wrap the eggs individually in wool padding, ready for transporting to the market the following day.

I was directed towards the shelter that contained the sheep and goats. It was within sight of the hen house, which meant Cormac could still feed the chickens without feeling abandoned. As we entered the enclosure, Mrs Doyle revealed that she and her late husband also used to keep cows, but after Seamus died the larger animals became too difficult for her to look after on her own. The remaining goats supplied her with milk, while the sheep provided her with wool and lambs - all of which she could sell or use alongside her crops and eggs to make ends meet.

My tasks were to release the livestock into the pasture, then clean out their pen and their troughs, stocking the former with fresh hay and refilling the latter with grain, apples and carrots. Although conceptually this was relatively easy, the manual labour was more intense than I was accustomed to. A headstrong goat that kept attempting to escape every time I opened the door to the enclosure didn't help matters, and by the time it came to the next task of weeding the crops in the afternoon, I was starting to flag.

Mrs Doyle made us a traditional Irish stew for dinner, with mutton, potatoes and carrots all sourced from the farm. She thanked us for helping her catch up on various tasks that she'd neglected the previous day, to which we reiterated we wanted to repay the kindness she'd shown us.

Before retiring for the night, I asked our host for a kitchen knife, with the intention of using it as a weapon against the sidhe should they return. Although agreeable to me being in possession of one of the sharp implements, she wasn't convinced it would be of any use for fighting a sidhe if we encountered one. She advised instead that we'd probably fare better using my magic.

Since I wasn't sure how to effectively implement any 'magic' apparently at my disposal, I was inclined to disagree. However, I bit my tongue and accepted any additional tools we could add to our arsenal with gratitude before Cormac and I retired to the barn.

Except for its handle, I carefully wrapped my new weapon inside a piece of linen cloth and then wedged it into the side of my hay-bed. I left the handle exposed so that when I tugged on it, the knife would be in my hand, ready for any defence that might be required against a potential intruder.

Cormac shared Mrs Doyle's stance regarding my protective measures, informing me that there had been many reports of people attempting to use physical combat to defeat a sidhe, none of which had been successful.

Still, having the knife within reach helped me feel a little less vulnerable, and as I laid my head down to rest, I ensured I could feel the handle poking out of the hay.

I soon discovered, however, that even a thousand razor-sharp swords wouldn't have helped in my quest for sleep. Too many questions spun through my mind with dizzying speed.

Before I arrived in this century, I didn't believe the sidhe even existed. Now that I'd encountered one of these mysterious creatures, there was so much I wanted to know, including why any of them would have any interest in Mrs Doyle's hay barn.

There was also an intense frustration that the pendant that had brought me here seemed reluctant to return me home again, causing me to wonder how I was ever supposed to return to the twenty-first century.

I pursed my lips and rolled onto my back, staring at the silhouettes of the bulky support beams that spanned the ceiling with my fingers interlocked behind my head as I continued with that train of thought.

Upon reflection, I'd only tried to return to my own time once, and it was during a period of intense desperation and heightened stress levels.

Could there be a possibility that the artifact picked up on emotional states? It appeared to be able to interpret my desire to see specific events in different time periods, therefore it didn't seem unreasonable to think it operated by connecting with my thought processes somehow. The main difference between each of my experiences involving the activation of the rings was that I had been more relaxed during the times that I'd successfully triggered the pendant into action. Now that I was in a less stressful situation, I considered whether this would be a good time to try again.

I turned my head to one side, facing Cormac in the stygian darkness.

The thin slithers of moonlight that fell through the small nicks in the stone walls allowed me enough diffuse light to determine that he looked asleep.

With one eye on my companion, I pulled the pendant from my pocket and sat upright. Cormac remained motionless, which gave me the assurance I needed to switch my focus to the ornament.

Even in the muted, dusky light, it still looked remarkable. The craftsmanship of the perfect golden rings was exquisite, and it was evident that the engravings of the celestial bodies had been created with flawless precision. Turning the gilded trinket over in my hand, I wondered what type of tools would have existed at the time of its creation that would generate such accuracy while simultaneously allowing it the ability to withstand the test of time so admirably.

Stealing another glance at Cormac left me torn. His gentle features reminded me that if this worked, and if I went home tonight as a result, he'd be left isolated, exposed and vulnerable in the event of another visit from the sidhe.

I sighed in frustration. Given that we still weren't sure of the sidhe's agenda, it didn't seem fair to abandon him in the current predicament with no prior warning.

Even if the creature didn't return, in the event of my absence he'd still wake alone, probably distressed as a result of his recent trauma. And based on his previous conduct, Mrs Doyle's presence in the house was still far enough away that it wouldn't prevent him from instantly panicking.

Returning my attention to the ancient artifact, I concluded that no matter how badly I longed to go home, perhaps it was better to stay in 1823 for now. At least until the issue with the sidhe had been dealt with and Cormac felt settled in more permanent accommodation.

However, it didn't hinder me from being keen to find out whether I was able to exert any form of control over the mysterious pendant. I knew there was no guarantee I'd be able to open the gateway home again, and that even if I succeeded, I was under no obligation to step through it. It would be entirely my choice whether to venture to the other side or not.

Inhaling a deep breath, I firmed up my decision to focus on reactivating the dormant artifact with the intention of understanding the options available to me. Then, regardless of the outcome of the experiment I was about to conduct, I would remain here until I had better idea of whether the sidhe were going to create issues for Mrs Doyle, and until Cormac felt more stable after his traumatic incident.

I shuffled to a slightly more comfortable position on the hay as my plan became clearer. It made sense that if I mastered the time-travel technique correctly, I could go back to any point in the twenty first century. Which presumably meant that I'd be able to return to the precise moment I departed. I reasoned that I could therefore stay here for a few days - or even weeks - and I could still just pick up my old life where I left it. And nobody would even have had a chance to miss me, because it would be like I'd never been absent.

Closing my eyes, I focused on what the barn and its surroundings would have looked like on the day I disappeared.

I recalled that the support beams in the ceiling had been replaced in the twenty-first century, giving the joists additional reinforcement while still maintaining a rustic look. The sturdy walls hadn't needed much in the way of repairs, and much of the original structure remained intact, making it easy to picture in my mind.

Immersing myself yet again in the scene that was unfolding, I extended the emerging manifestation to include the area surrounding the barn, visualising all the details I could remember from that day. After rekindling the images of parking my Peugeot in front of the farmhouse, I relived the light conversation I'd had with your mother, just before I pictured crossing the paddock in the glorious sunshine and unearthing the pendant.

All this and more swirled through my head, the images dancing more vibrantly as I concentrated on my goal. During the previous two episodes where the pendant awakened, I had triggered the rings to open with far less in the way of either mental imagery or intention, therefore I had faith that I must be getting close.

Trying to maintain my relaxed composure, I maintained this process for a few more minutes before finally opening one eye in the hope of recognising images from my own timeline through the aperture.

However, my other eye quickly opened in despondency as it became clear that the rings hadn't even so much as twitched. Lying dormant in my palm, it would be easy for anyone to assume that the concentric circles formed just another piece of unusual jewellery, and that there was nothing mystical about them at all.

Only, I knew better.

Having been witness to the pendant's potential, I was convinced that the mystical item was capable of returning me to the twenty-first century.

I just needed to figure out how to tap into that potential, or I could end up trapped in this era permanently.