The morning after the fire circle, the soldiers packed quietly. The ground still showed faint burn marks where the light had appeared, but no one spoke about it. Nathan gave orders as if nothing had happened, though Emily saw the worry behind his calm expression. He didn’t ask what she had seen in the circle, but his silence spoke volumes.

Thomas, on the other hand, avoided her. He crossed himself each time she passed, pretending to be busy. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t understand what had happened either. The key and the fragment were warm again in her pocket, pulsing like a heartbeat she could feel through her skin.

When the column moved north, the air grew colder. The leaves had started to turn red and gold, and smoke from distant battles clouded the horizon. The war was creeping closer again. Emily rode in the wagon, lost in thought. She kept replaying the image she’d seen—the skyline, the cars, the city lights. It had been her world, clear and solid for one impossible second.

Nathan rode beside the wagon. “You’ve been quiet since yesterday,” he said.

“I’m still trying to understand what happened,” she admitted. “It felt like the gate was opening, but then it collapsed.”

He nodded. “Maybe it’s not complete. Maybe that fragment you found was only part of something bigger.”

“That’s what I thought too,” she said. “If there are more pieces, I have to find them.”

“Then we’ll find them together,” he said.

She smiled slightly. “You don’t even know what you’re agreeing to.”

“I don’t need to,” he said simply. “I’ve seen what you can do. If this key can end this war or send you home, I’ll help you find the rest.”

They reached another small settlement by nightfall, little more than a few houses and a half-burned barn. The villagers watched from doorways, cautious but not hostile. Nathan’s men set up camp near the river, and Emily gathered supplies from what remained of the church.

Inside the ruined chapel, she found something strange. On the wall behind the altar, beneath layers of soot, faint lines glimmered in the light of her lantern. She wiped away the dust and saw markings identical to those in Nathan’s father’s journal—circles, symbols, and the same phrase: The healer’s heart opens the gate.

She touched the wall, and the key grew warm. The symbols began to glow faintly, like embers waking from sleep. For a moment, a soft voice whispered in her mind. It was neither male nor female, gentle yet filled with power. You are not the first. You are the bridge.

Emily stepped back, her breath shallow. “Who are you?” she whispered aloud.

The light flickered and died. Only the key remained warm in her hand.

When she told Nathan what she had seen, he didn’t question her sanity. “If these markings are connected to my father’s work, maybe he built more than just theories. Maybe he found something long before you did.”

She nodded slowly. “And it’s calling to me.”

That night, the air felt heavy, like the calm before a storm. Emily sat near the fire, staring into the flames. Every choice she made pulled her deeper into this world, farther from the one she left behind. For the first time, she wasn’t sure which side of time she belonged to anymore.

When she looked up, Nathan was across the fire, watching her. Neither spoke. The silence between them said everything words couldn’t.