The next morning began with a thick fog that clung to the trees and made every sound distant. The soldiers moved slowly, their wagons creaking along the narrow road. Emily rode beside Nathan, wrapped in a wool coat that smelled faintly of smoke. Her mind was still filled with the vision of the soldiers from different eras. It felt less like a haunting and more like a message from time itself.

“Do you really think they were ghosts?” Nathan asked as they rode.

“Not ghosts,” she said. “More like echoes. Maybe they’ve all touched the same power I did.”

“Then they’re part of whatever this circle is,” he said.

They reached the outskirts of another small town by midday. It was nearly abandoned, the buildings scarred by war and weather. Only a few people remained—mostly old men and children. The soldiers set up camp near the main square while Emily went to look for supplies.

In the remains of a schoolhouse, she found another set of strange markings carved into the floorboards. The same circles, the same symbols. She knelt, tracing them with her fingers, and again the key began to glow. The air shimmered, and a faint hum filled the room.

This time, instead of a voice, she saw a flash of memory that wasn’t hers. A woman in a nurse’s uniform—World War I era—treating a wounded soldier in a muddy trench. The same key hung around her neck. Then another vision—a doctor in 1918 during the flu pandemic, using the same symbol carved into his desk. Each vision blurred into the next until Emily saw herself, standing among them, part of an unbroken chain.

When the light faded, she was crying.

Nathan entered quietly. “You found something, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “There were others like me. Across time. They all carried the same mark. It’s not just my story—it’s all of ours.”

He crouched beside her. “Then maybe you’re the one meant to finish what they started.”

“Or break it,” she said softly. “If I open the gate wrong, I could destroy the line that connects us all.”

“Then we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Before she could answer, a shout came from outside. Thomas ran toward them. “Scouts spotted a rebel force coming from the west! They’ll be here before nightfall.”

Nathan stood, already giving orders. “We hold them until the others can get out. Emily, stay with Thomas.”

She hesitated. “If I can find another fragment, I might stop this without fighting.”

“Not at the cost of your life,” he said firmly.

She looked at him and smiled faintly. “That’s not your choice anymore.”

As the soldiers formed lines and the sun dipped low, Emily slipped back into the schoolhouse. The carvings on the floor were glowing again, faint but visible. She placed the brass key at the center, whispering, “If you can hear me—show me what to do.”

The ground trembled. The hum returned, louder this time, shaking the air. Light spread through the cracks in the floor, forming another circle. She felt the key pull at her chest, like it wanted to rise.

Outside, Nathan shouted her name, but she couldn’t stop. The light engulfed the room, and she saw images again—different timelines, different wars, all connected through the same circle of healers. The faces of those who came before her looked at her with calm eyes, as if waiting.

“Help me,” she whispered.

The voice from before returned, soft and clear. “To heal time, you must understand it. The gate does not open through power, but through sacrifice.”

Then the light went out, leaving her kneeling on the cold floor. The air was still. Outside, the sound of approaching soldiers echoed through the valley.

Nathan burst into the room and grabbed her shoulders. “Emily! What did you do?”

She looked up at him, her face pale but steady. “I found the next piece. But the gate wants something in return.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

She met his eyes. “It needs a life to balance the past.”

The noise of battle grew louder. She reached for his hand. “If it comes to that, promise me you’ll finish it.”

Nathan gripped her hand tightly. “Don’t you dare talk like that. We’ll find another way.”

But deep down, Emily already knew. The circle was closing, and time was beginning to demand its price.