The words left by the Prophet on the beach continued to echo in my mind. We had only eight days left, and every clue seemed exceptionally precious. Jack suggested we should review all the materials we had collected, looking for details we might have overlooked.
'Sometimes,' he explained, 'the most important clues are hidden in the most obvious places.'
So we returned to the locked room and began systematically organising those journals, documents, and photographs. Jack focused on his ancestors' notes, while I was responsible for examining various photographs and image records.
In the corner of the room was an old wooden box filled with photographs from various eras. Most were records of the lighthouse and the Howard family, ranging from early daguerreotypes to more modern film prints. I carefully examined them one by one, trying to find anything unusual.
Hours passed, and my eyes were sore from the prolonged concentration. Just as I was about to take a break, a small photograph slipped out from between the pages of a journal. I bent down to pick it up and found it was a group photo, seemingly from some town celebration.
On the back of the photograph was a line of faded ink: '1885 Lighthouse 60th Anniversary Celebration.'
I turned it back over and carefully examined the people in the photo. Standing in the centre of the front row was a man in formal attire, presumably the lighthouse keeper at the time—likely Jack's grandfather, Thomas Howard. His appearance was indeed remarkably similar to Jack's, just as Margaret had said.
But what truly surprised me was a figure on the right side of the photograph. It was a young woman, standing at the edge of the crowd, her face partially obscured by shadows but still clearly discernible. She wore a long dress that was slightly different from the style of that time, and seemed to be holding some small object.
My heart raced, because the outline and posture of that woman were extremely similar to my grandmother in her youth. But even more shocking was that around her neck, she wore the very same pocket watch I now possessed.
'Jack,' my voice trembled slightly, 'you need to see this.'
He put down the documents he was holding and came to my side. I handed him the photograph, pointing to the female figure.
'This looks like Emily,' he frowned as he observed, 'your grandmother. But the date is 1885, when she hadn't even been born, let alone come to Fog Corner.'
'But look at this,' I pointed to the pocket watch around the woman's neck in the photograph, 'this is definitely the same watch I'm wearing now. Can you explain that?'
Jack thought for a moment, then shook his head. 'Unless... unless the time fracture's influence is more extensive than we imagined. Perhaps Emily didn't just visit 1925, but other time points as well.'
This idea made me feel dizzy. My grandmother might have been more deeply involved in the secrets of the time fracture than I had imagined. Her appearances at different points in time couldn't be coincidental.
'We need more evidence,' I said, continuing to search through the box of photographs.
At the bottom of the box, I found a small envelope with the word 'Confidential' written on it in elegant handwriting. Inside was another photograph, seemingly older than the previous one, its yellowed edges suggesting it might be from the mid-19th century.
The photograph showed a young man standing in front of the lighthouse, his expression serious, eyes gazing directly at the camera. His hand rested on the shoulder of a small boy, presumably his son. But disturbingly, standing beside them was another figure—a blurred female silhouette, almost as if overexposed or blurred due to movement. Despite this, her outline was still highly recognisable, and her posture strikingly similar to the woman I had seen in the 1885 photograph.
'Who is this?' I asked, pointing to the man.
Jack carefully took the photograph, his expression becoming serious. 'This is Arthur Howard, my great-grandfather, the first to record the time fracture phenomenon. The boy in the photo should be Thomas, my grandfather.'
'And this blurred figure...?'
'The photo record doesn't mention a third person,' Jack said puzzledly, 'This is strange. Photographs in the 19th century required long exposure times; subjects were usually asked to remain absolutely still. This kind of blur usually means...'
'It means the person moved during the exposure,' I continued his thought, 'or...'
'Or she didn't fully exist at that time point,' Jack softly voiced what we were both thinking.
We looked at each other in silence for a moment, both stunned by this discovery. If the woman in these photographs was indeed my grandmother, then she may have appeared at multiple points in time, far more frequently than I knew. And if it wasn't her, then who was it? Why would such a similar figure appear near the lighthouse in different periods?
Jack suddenly stood up and walked to the bookshelf at the other end of the room. He took down a heavy album and quickly searched through it.
'I remember there was another one... here it is,' he stopped, pointing to a photograph from 1926—shortly after the lighthouse accident. In the photo, the top of the lighthouse was already damaged, with several townspeople and officials standing around, possibly assessing the damage. But at the edge of the photo, half-hidden in tree shadows, was another female figure, more clearly visible this time. She wore clothing inconsistent with the era and gazed sadly at the lighthouse.
'This can't be coincidence,' I said, my voice slightly shaking from shock, 'The same figure appearing in multiple photographs spanning decades.'
Jack put down the photo, his eyes flickering with complex emotions. 'Ella, I'm beginning to believe that the story of the time fracture is much more complicated than we know. This isn't just about you and me, or the Howard and Morrison families. This seems to be a puzzle spanning multiple generations.'
He took out a blank sheet of paper and began drawing a timeline, marking all the points when the woman appeared in the photographs: 1850s, 1885, 1925, and 1926 after the lighthouse accident.
'If we connect these points,' I pondered, 'they form some kind of pattern. Each appearance is related to an important moment for the lighthouse: its construction, anniversary celebration, the peak of your research, and the lighthouse accident.'
'And,' Jack added, 'each appearance seems to be connected to the Howard family. She always appears near the lighthouse keeper.'
We continued studying the photographs, noticing more details. In each photo, the woman wore my pocket watch and always seemed to be positioned as an observer rather than an active participant.
'This reminds me of what the Prophet said,' I said softly, 'about the real choice being hidden deeper. Perhaps these photographs are telling us that the important thing isn't just saving you from the lighthouse accident, but some bigger picture, some mission we don't yet fully understand.'
Jack nodded, his gaze falling on the pocket watch on my chest. 'The watch seems to be the key. It's not just a tool for crossing the time fracture, but possibly some sort of... mark or symbol of identity.'
I took off the watch and examined it carefully. After so many days, I noticed for the first time a tiny symbol engraved on the back of the case—a straight line within a circle, just like the symbol the Prophet had drawn on the beach.
'Look at this,' I turned the watch over for Jack to see, 'This symbol is exactly the same as what the Prophet drew.'
Jack's eyes lit up. 'Ella, I think we've found an important clue. This symbol also appears in Howard family records, usually associated with the term "Time Guardians."'
'Time Guardians?' I repeated questioningly.
'Yes, an ancient legend,' Jack explained, walking to the bookshelf to retrieve another book, 'According to legend, there was a group of people responsible for maintaining the balance of time, preventing the boundaries between past, present, and future from being broken. They were known as "Time Guardians," able to sense and traverse the fractures in time.'
He opened the book and pointed to a passage: '"The Guardians are marked by a line within a circle, moving back and forth through the river of time, repairing broken places. Their responsibility is not to change history, but to ensure the integrity of time."'
We exchanged a glance, both realising the importance of this discovery. If this legend was true, then the woman in the photographs, possibly my grandmother or someone else related to the Morrison family, might be one of these mysterious 'Time Guardians.' And now, this responsibility seemed to have fallen on my shoulders.
'Seven days left,' Jack said softly, taking my hand, 'We need to find out more about these "Time Guardians" and how they repair time fractures.'
I nodded, feeling a sense of mission rising within me. Whoever the woman in the photographs was, whatever the mystery of the 'Time Guardians,' I was determined to solve this puzzle, not just to return to my era, but to understand why I had come here, and the true connection between Jack, the lighthouse, and myself.
Outside, the setting sun stretched the lighthouse's shadow very long, like a slender pointer, indicating an unknown future. And in that future, the fate of 21st September was approaching, waiting for us to change or accept it.