The night stretched endlessly. Emily’s hands were red from washing blood away, and her arms ached from holding down soldiers who screamed during surgery. The small tent flickered with lamplight that made everything look unreal. She tried to focus on the next patient, but the smell of iron and sweat filled her lungs. She wanted to cry but forced herself to keep moving.

The older medic, Thomas, handed her another cloth. “Keep pressure here,” he said. “If he makes it till morning, he’ll live.”

Emily nodded, pressing down on the wound. The soldier’s eyes rolled back, his breathing shallow. She whispered, “Stay with me, just stay.” Her words trembled, but she refused to stop. She had treated trauma cases before, but not like this, not without machines or doctors with sterile gloves.

When she finally stepped outside the tent, dawn was still hours away. The air was thick with smoke and cold wind. Her hands shook as she wiped her face. She wanted to believe this was a dream, but the mud under her shoes was too real.

Captain Nathan Cole stood near the fire, staring into the dark fields. He turned when he saw her. “You’re still alive,” he said quietly.

“Barely,” she said, her voice tired. “How do you live like this every day?”

He shrugged. “We don’t. We just keep breathing until the war decides we can stop.”

She sat near the fire. The warmth stung her cold fingers. Nathan looked at her clothes again, the strange fabric and color. “You’re not from around here. What were you doing near the battlefield?”

She hesitated. “I told you. I was traveling.”

“In the middle of Virginia during a battle?” His voice was calm but sharp.

Emily met his eyes. “I can’t explain it. You wouldn’t believe me.”

He smiled faintly. “Try me.”

She looked at the flames. “I’m from a place far away. Farther than you can imagine. I woke up here without meaning to.”

He studied her for a moment. “That’s not much of an answer.”

“It’s the truth,” she said.

Nathan poked the fire with a stick. “Truth doesn’t matter much out here. Only survival.”

He walked away, leaving her alone with the crackling fire. Emily held the brass key in her hand, feeling its faint warmth. It pulsed once, like a heartbeat. She whispered, “Why me?”

The camp slowly grew quiet. She lay on a pile of blankets Thomas had found for her. Her mind drifted between exhaustion and fear. She thought about the city lights of Los Angeles, her apartment, her friends, her hospital. They felt like memories from another lifetime.

In the distance, an owl cried. She turned on her side and stared at the key again. The engraving shimmered faintly in the firelight. Dr. N. Cole, 1863. The name echoed in her thoughts. Was it fate that she met Nathan Cole? Or a warning she didn’t understand?

As she finally drifted to sleep, she dreamed of white light and the hum that had brought her here. But instead of fear, there was a strange calm, as if time itself had chosen her for something greater.