Huaca de la Luna, Peru

Present Day

With a broad grin, Emilio looked down at the skull at his feet, which seemed to be grinning just as broadly back at him. He had put his cap and sunglasses on it and snapped a photo with his phone. "Not bad-looking, huh? Spitting image of your mom."

He glanced over his shoulder at Juan, who was casting an uneasy look around. Of course—getting worked up over nothing again.

His friend jabbed him with an elbow. "Knock it off. What if they consider this sacrilege?"

"And what, you think they'll brick us in or something?" Emilio couldn't bring himself to care. He was never going to see these people again after today. Juan clearly felt otherwise, because he snatched the cap and sunglasses off the skull.

The skeletons were cooler than Emilio had expected. It was strange to think that the bits of bone at his feet had once been living people. They were over a thousand years old, from a civilization hardly anything was known about. Yeah, yeah—he had remembered something from that walking encyclopedia's endless stream of words.

He hadn't been thrilled about Juan's decision to drag along that odd bird James, but since Emilio had gotten this entire trip as a gift, he didn't have much of a say. He found the guy dead tiring—going on and on about every rock and tree as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Come on, let's check out the temple," Juan said.

Another pile of stones. Emilio didn't understand how his friend wasn't sick of it yet. He'd much rather be lying on a beach than staring at a heap of rock in the blazing sun.

He followed Juan across the dusty ground toward the pyramid-like structure ahead. There were more people there—apparently, they weren't the only tourists who'd decided to check this place out.

The bright murals stood out immediately. They hadn't had anything like this in the Inca cities. Large sections of wall were painted red, yellow, and black. Warriors were depicted, along with heads of a creature surrounded by the sun, with enormous tusks.

You'd think it was a temple dedicated to a sun god, rather than one of the night. Maybe it was. Emilio had understood that there were no written sources from this period and that the site had long been abandoned by the time the Europeans arrived. Maybe they were just making it all up. No one could prove otherwise.

He wandered around while Juan spent far too much time photographing the murals. If someone added graffiti here, would that become the discovery of the century later on? Or would they somehow figure out it was recent?

Probably.

Emilio shoved his hands into his pockets and stopped in front of a row of depicted prisoners. They were naked, ropes around their necks.

Lovely people.

"Pretty, isn't it?" a shrill little voice piped up.

Emilio glanced sideways at the small girl standing next to him. He was surprised she spoke English—albeit with an accent he couldn't place. Up until now, he'd mostly had to get by with Spanish. That was a bit rusty, since he barely spoke to his family in Cuba anymore, but he'd been raised bilingual, and that had already come in handy a few times on this trip.

"Depends on what you call pretty," he replied. The kid looked about eight, and he found it unsettling that she thought this was beautiful.

"The colors are really bright. And it's been here for so long."

"So they say," Emilio muttered, moving on. He found kids annoying—especially when they were know-it-alls like James. He spotted the guy standing with Juan—still only at the second panel. Emilio sighed in frustration.

This is going to take a hundred years.

He dropped onto a bench. Even without internet, he pulled out his phone and opened some random game. Hopefully they could ditch James after today, now that they'd seen his oh-so-amazing excavation. It was painfully obvious to Emilio that the guy was lusting after Juan, and his friend was too dense to notice. The idea of some dude looking at Juan like that gave him the creeps.

To his right stood the girl from before. She was staring at him. She was probably local—she looked Peruvian enough, though her eyes were a bit rounder. She wore a simple dress with a floral pattern. There were smudges of dirt on her legs and face, and a worn Dora bag hung from her shoulders.

Feeling a little uncomfortable, he looked away.

When she kept staring—and he started to feel like she might try to lift his wallet—he stood up and wandered over to the other two. He immediately noticed James's shoulders tense. Emilio shot him a dirty look. I see exactly what you're after, you creep.

"Oh, there you are," Juan said with a smile. "James was just about to take us to a section that's actually closed to the public."

Emilio snorted. "And screw you there? Judging by that murderous look, I just ruined his little plan."

"You're unbelievably crude," James snapped, his voice heated and trembling. "And to insinuate that—"

"Just leave him," Juan cut in. "He's bored and gets annoying when he is. I'm curious about that section."

James calmed down a bit, though Emilio still thought he looked nervous. He could've sworn the guy was still planning something, and he resolved not to leave his friend alone. In movies, that always ended with someone dead—or at least missing.

"Fine. I'll come too," Emilio said, following them.

James glanced around conspicuously, then ducked under a red-and-white chain. They descended a narrow sandy path that ran between two high walls.

"Part of the complex collapsed after an earthquake a few years ago," James explained. "They didn't dare let many people in here anymore."

They turned a corner. Someone was sitting on a low wall and jumped down when they saw them.

"You again?" Emilio exclaimed when he recognized the girl.

"You've met her already?" James asked, surprised. "This is Sawa, the excavation leader's daughter. She wanders around here a lot."

"In the dangerous part?" Juan asked incredulously.

James shrugged. "Not my kid."

A pained expression flickered across Juan's face. Emilio quickly moved to his side. "It's not that dangerous. James is just a wimp. And she probably knows this place like the back of her hand." He looked at the girl. He still didn't trust James one bit—maybe she could tell them whether there really was something to see here. "Is he right, Sawa? Is there actually something special here?"

The girl smiled mysteriously. "For some people."

For some people?

Probably just some weird drawing James would rave about and Juan would want to photograph. Emilio gave a brief nod and kept walking.

The girl fell into step beside him. "Don't you like it here?"

"No."

She giggled. "It's not really a nice place. A lot of people died here in the past."

A shiver ran down his spine. Ghost stories didn't scare him, but it was still unsettling to hear something like that from a small child. "Did your father tell you that?"

She glanced ahead briefly and shook her head. "No."

There was something about her that made him uneasy. That feeling—albeit for an entirely different reason—intensified when she suddenly grabbed his hand and swung it cheerfully back and forth.

What. The. Fuck?

"Didn't your father teach you not to grab strange men by the hand?"

"You're not strange," she said with a soft giggle. "Well, you are a little strange, but you won't hurt me."

"How do you know? Maybe we'll pass a well and I'll toss you right in."

She giggled again. "Nope."

Despite himself, he smiled. "Okay. Maybe you're right."

"We have to go right here," she said when they reached a fork.

Juan and James had stopped. The latter gave a small nod, which gave Emilio the odd impression that he didn't actually know the way all that well.

The girl let go of Emilio's hand and skipped past the other two. Hopping and singing in a language Emilio didn't recognize, she led the way. He hesitated. It was pitch-dark further ahead.

"What are those?" Juan asked, slowing as well.

Emilio took a few steps forward to stand beside his friend. "What?"

"That silvery glow over there."

"I don't see a damn thing." He couldn't resist glancing at James. "Except him."

"Don't you really see that silver arc?" Juan's voice was incredulous.

Emilio squinted. "No, man." Did he need glasses or something? He pulled out his phone, took a photo, and zoomed in as far as he could. "Nope. Nothing."

Juan looked at the screen. "That's so weird. That's not how I see it. I see actual silver lines."

Emilio snorted. "Right. And you, professor?" he asked James mockingly.

"I don't see anything either."

That actually surprised Emilio. He'd expected James to contradict him out of sheer spite.

Then he realized he could no longer hear Sawa humming. "Where did Sawa go?" He turned on his phone's flashlight and shone it into the dark passage. The girl stood at the end of the tunnel, her hands gliding over the wall.

"She's standing right in the middle of the pattern," Juan said. "They're kind of... curls."

"There's absolutely nothing there, Juan."

"My eyes are just better than yours."

Emilio doubted that—especially since James saw nothing either—but he followed Juan to the wall where Sawa stood.

"Do you really not see them?" Juan asked in disbelief, tracing a circular motion over the wall with his finger.

"Nope."

"Wow. That's bizarre."

"And you?" Juan asked the girl.

She stared at him blankly for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. I see them too."

She also traced an invisible pattern on the wall.

"How is that even possible?" Juan's voice trembled slightly. He turned back to Emilio. "You're messing with me, right?"

"No, man. I seriously see nothing."

"But... there's an arc."

The desperation in his voice made Emilio uneasy.

"An arc?" James repeated thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "How remarkable that you can see it and we can't."

This made absolutely no sense. Emilio shook his head. "Very remarkable. You're messing with me. Hilarious. Can we leave this pile of rocks now?"

Sawa drew lines on the wall with her fingers.

A bright light flared to life—so intense that Emilio cursed and threw a hand over his eyes.

"What the fuck?" He peeked through his fingers. The light had formed into a narrow裂—no, a slit—with a breeze blowing through it.

A small shadow stepped through. A larger one followed.

"Juan! We are not going through tha—"

He felt a shove in his back. He stumbled forward.

Before he could turn around, he was sucked into the white light.

A deafening ringing filled his ears. His stomach lurched; he couldn't breathe.

Slowly, the light faded. It became pitch-black.

Emilio lay on his back—on something. He heard groaning beside him. His head pounded as he opened his eyes. Above him was a domed ceiling, painted in shades of brown, yellow, and blue.

He sat up, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. The room swayed; he saw double. It took several seconds before he realized that the nine people around him were actually only three.

"What happened?" Juan croaked, rubbing his face.

James stood up. His hands trembled as he felt along the stone wall. "What... I don't understand... Where are we?"

"Where are we?" Emilio snapped. "You brought us here! You even shoved me!"

He looked around. The room wasn't in ruins; the paintings weren't flaking. There was a raised platform with an image of a figure Emilio didn't recognize. At the foot of a stone table stood bowls of food. The square room had niches filled with pottery, sand-colored and painted in ochre red. It felt like standing in a museum.

"I..." James couldn't get any further.

"Deranged lunatic," Emilio muttered. He looked at Juan, who stood hunched over, his gaze darting around. "I'm done with this goddamn excavation. I took a hard hit to the head, I think."

"Shh," came a whisper from the left.

Emilio turned.

Sawa stood by the only exit, peering outside. "They mustn't see us."

"Who?"

"The priests. This is a sanctuary."

What? There were still priests in this pile of rocks? Who were they worshipping, then? He'd thought they didn't even know anymore which god this temple had once been dedicated to.

Unless there really was some kind of secret cult.

Yeah. That had to be it. They'd stumbled onto a hidden passage to a place where ancient gods were still worshipped.

"Well, that's their problem," Emilio muttered. He wasn't about to be stopped by a bunch of idiots. He walked toward the exit—until Juan grabbed his arm.

"Wait."

"Why?" Emilio snapped.

"Something's clearly wrong. We need to be careful." He turned to James. "Where are we, James?"

"Uh..." James ran a hand through his hair and glanced awkwardly at Sawa.

"In the past," the girl said. "In the year 697."