In the early morning, I told Jack about my dream. He listened attentively, nodding occasionally, his eyes glimmering with thoughtfulness.
'The lighthouse light will go out twice, but can only be relit once,' he repeated the prophecy from the dream, 'This matches exactly what the Prophet on the beach said.'
'Do you think this is just coincidence?' I asked, uncertain whether I should believe in a dream.
'Under the influence of the time fracture, dreams might be ways our subconscious receives information,' Jack explained, 'Over the years, I've had similar experiences—dreaming of events that hadn't happened yet, or receiving inexplicable warnings.'
We decided to go into town to search for more information about the 'Time Guardians.' Margaret had mentioned that the town's old library preserved some ancient legend records that might contain the clues we needed.
Fog Corner appeared serene and quaint in the morning light. The streets were sparsely populated, mostly with early-rising fishermen and shopkeepers. Jack suggested we first meet Margaret at the café, then head to the library.
'Helen's café is the centre of information dissemination in town,' he said half-jokingly, 'If there are any rumours about ancient legends, Helen is sure to know.'
The café was located in the town centre, a cosy wooden building with lace curtains hanging on the windows and several flower pots at the entrance. As we pushed open the door, a bell rang crisply, and the warm aroma of baking greeted us.
Several local residents were enjoying breakfast. They nodded in greeting when they saw Jack enter, but their eyes turned curious and slightly suspicious upon seeing me. I had begun to get used to this reaction—a strange woman accompanying the lighthouse keeper would naturally attract attention from the small town residents.
'Jack! And the mysterious cousin!' Margaret emerged from behind the counter, greeting us enthusiastically, 'You've come at the perfect time, I've just finished baking cinnamon bread.'
We chose a table in the corner and ordered coffee and bread. Jack briefly told Margaret our purpose, asking if she had heard anything about the legend of the 'Time Guardians.'
'Old Mr. Fisher might know,' Margaret said thoughtfully, 'He's the oldest resident in town and has been collecting folk tales for over sixty years. I can—' Her words were interrupted by the doorbell.
A young woman entered the café, about twenty-five years old, dressed in an elegant dark blue dress, her golden-brown hair elegantly styled in a bun. Her demeanour was noticeably different from others in the café, more refined and urban.
Most striking was Jack's expression when he saw her—complicated, mixing surprise, concern, and some emotion I couldn't quite interpret.
'Elizabeth,' he said the name softly, standing up.
Upon seeing Jack, the young woman's face lit up with a radiant smile. 'Jack!' She walked over quickly, disregarding the glances of those around, and gave him a warm hug, 'I knew I'd find you here.'
Jack appeared somewhat embarrassed, quickly withdrawing from the embrace. 'Elizabeth, I thought you were still in Boston.'
'The term has ended,' she explained with a smile, then looked at me curiously, 'And this is?'
'Ella Morrison, my cousin,' Jack hurriedly introduced, 'Ella, this is Elizabeth White, an... old friend.'
Elizabeth extended her hand to me gracefully, but her eyes held clear scrutiny. 'Cousin? I've never heard Jack mention you before.'
'Distant relative,' I smiled awkwardly as I shook her hand, feeling an inexplicable discomfort, 'I've only recently come to visit.'
'What a coincidence, I'm visiting too,' Elizabeth revealed a meaningful smile, then turned to Jack, 'I have much to discuss with you, about the... project we talked about last time.'
Jack nodded, his expression turning serious. 'Of course, but now might not be the best time.'
'Oh, don't worry, I'll be staying in town for a few days,' she said casually, then looked at me, 'I'm sure your cousin won't mind if I borrow you for a bit? There are some things we need to discuss privately.'
Before I could answer, Margaret joined the conversation, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 'Elizabeth, it's been a while! We were just about to visit Mr. Fisher to discuss some old legends. If you and Jack want to chat alone, why don't I take Ella with me? That way you can...' she paused suggestively, 'catch up.'
Elizabeth nodded gracefully in thanks. 'That would be perfect, thank you, Margaret.'
Jack seemed a bit uneasy, looking at me as if wanting to say something, but finally only said: 'If Mr. Fisher knows anything useful, let me know immediately. I'll come find you both later.'
Though reason told me not to overthink, watching Jack and Elizabeth walk to the other end of the café, seeing her intimately link her arm with his, talking in low voices, I felt a bitter emotion rise within me. That familiarity, that unspoken understanding, was clearly not interaction between ordinary friends.
'Don't worry,' Margaret seemed to see through my thoughts, saying softly, 'Elizabeth has always had feelings for my brother, but Jack has never truly reciprocated. She's the daughter of a wealthy Boston merchant and comes to Fog Corner every summer for holiday.'
'They look very... close,' I tried to keep my tone even.
Margaret shrugged, 'They've known each other for many years. Elizabeth's affection for Jack is an open secret in town. My father, before he passed, had hoped they would become a couple—after all, the White family's connections could help solve the lighthouse's funding issues.'
I felt an unreasonable jealousy. Elizabeth belonged to this era; she could openly establish a relationship with Jack without worrying about the fate of being separated by time and space. Whereas I, a stranger from a hundred years in the future, was just a temporary accident to Jack, a transient visitor soon to disappear.
Margaret led me out of the café, but before leaving, I couldn't help but look back. Jack and Elizabeth sat by a distant window, sunlight falling on them, forming a perfect picture. What wrenched my heart even more was that Elizabeth took a small box from her bag and handed it to Jack. He opened the box, his expression turning surprised and moved. What was it? A gift? A symbol of some promise?
'Come on,' Margaret urged, 'Mr. Fisher doesn't like to be kept waiting.'
I followed her through several alleys, but my thoughts remained in the café. Rationally, I knew I had no right to feel jealous or betrayed. What was between Jack and me had just begun, and was destined to face the barrier of time and space. He had the right—even should—seek happiness in his own era.
But emotionally, that kiss, those times spent together, that connection transcending time, all made it impossible to easily let go. More complicated was the fact that if I truly was a 'Time Guardian,' if my responsibility was to maintain the integrity of time rather than personal happiness, then perhaps letting Jack and Elizabeth be together, letting history follow its proper course, was the right choice.
This thought left me feeling empty and sad.
Mr. Fisher lived in a small cottage on the edge of town, surrounded by antiques and books. He was a kindly old man who showed great interest in our visit, especially when Margaret mentioned we were looking for legends about the 'Time Guardians.'
'Time Guardians,' his eyes lit up, 'It's been a long time since anyone asked about this legend. They are said to be guardians of the river of time, able to sense and repair fractures in space-time. According to legend, whenever important historical nodes are in danger, the guardians appear to ensure the flow of time isn't completely altered.'
This was remarkably similar to what I had seen in my dream, making my heart race.
'How do the guardians repair time?' I asked eagerly.
The old man slowly shook his head, 'The legend doesn't specifically say. It only mentions they possess special tools—usually items that connect different times, like special pocket watches or keys.' He paused, 'But one thing is clear: becoming a guardian requires great sacrifice. They must give up personal happiness and conventional life, because their responsibility transcends everything.'
These words hit my heart like a hammer. Giving up personal happiness—this was exactly the 'heavy price' hinted at by both the Prophet and the dream.
Leaving Mr. Fisher's cottage, I felt even more confused and heavy-hearted. Margaret seemed to notice my change in mood but was understanding enough not to ask.
When we returned to the café, Jack and Elizabeth were no longer there. Helen told us they had left together, with Elizabeth saying she wanted to show Jack something 'special' she had brought from Boston.
I told myself not to overthink, but that feeling of being excluded, combined with the realisation about the 'guardian's sacrifice,' brought my mood to its lowest point. Perhaps this was destiny's hint—I didn't belong in this era, didn't belong in Jack's life. My duty was to repair the time fracture, ensure history developed as it should, even if this meant I had to give up that newly budding feeling that spanned across time and space.
As the sun set, I stood alone on the path back to the lighthouse, looking at the distant towering silhouette of the lighthouse, feeling the weight of the pocket watch on my chest. Only five days remained, and regardless of my personal feelings, time would not wait, fate would not pause. I had to be prepared to accept whatever ending came.