The discovery of the mirrored data gave us a new direction—if the meteorological data from 1925 and 2025 showed such precise correspondence, did this pattern exist at other points in time? More importantly, did this mean the time fracture followed some kind of predictable cycle?
'We need to check earlier records,' I said to Jack, 'If a hundred years is a key cycle, then data from 1825 should show similar patterns.'
Jack nodded, retrieving a dust-covered wooden box from a cabinet deep in the locked room. 'These are the original records of my great-grandfather, Arthur Howard. They've been preserved, but rarely examined.'
The leather-bound notebooks in the wooden box had yellowed, the paper was fragile, the ink faded, but the numbers were still clearly legible. Arthur Howard was a meticulous record-keeper, documenting every day's meteorological data, tidal changes, and moon phases with thorough precision.
We compared these ancient data with the corresponding figures from 1925 and 2025, and the results were shocking—the data from all three time points showed astonishing similarities, almost forming a perfect cycle.
'This can't be coincidence,' Jack said quietly, his finger tracing over three sets of almost identical numbers, 'The time fracture isn't a random phenomenon, but a precise hundred-year cycle.'
Delving deeper, we found more evidence. Arthur's diary recorded a strange event on 21st September 1826—the lighthouse was struck by a 'blue lightning,' after which the keeper reported seeing a 'ghost from the future.' This was remarkably similar to the accident Jack foresaw for 1926.
'Did Arthur mention who the "ghost" was? What ultimately happened to him?' I asked eagerly, hoping to find clues to change Jack's fate.
Jack flipped through the diary, shaking his head: 'The description is vague, only saying the person "seemed to cross some kind of barrier, then disappeared." Arthur himself continued as lighthouse keeper for many years after the incident, until dying naturally.'
My thoughts raced. If the lighthouse incident in 1826 didn't result in Arthur's death or permanent disappearance, perhaps the accident in 1926 wouldn't necessarily be the end for Jack either.
'Jack, look at this passage,' I pointed to a particular paragraph in the diary, 'Arthur wrote: "After the blue light vanished, I found a strange clock face, with hands that rotated counterclockwise. I kept it as a memento of that incredible experience."'
'That clock face!' Jack's eyes brightened, 'That became the core component of my pocket watch. Since then, the Howard family has been connected to the time fracture.'
We continued searching and found that at the end of his diary, Arthur had drawn a detailed sketch showing the internal structure of that mysterious clock face. Compared to the modern pocket watch, it was more primitive, but the core mechanism was strikingly similar.
'Do you know what this means?' Jack said excitedly, 'The watch itself may be part of a cycle. Since 1826, items crossing through time have existed, influencing the fate of the Howard family.'
Our research continued into the night, piecing together a disturbing picture: every century, the time fracture would reach a peak of activity, usually associated with the lighthouse and the Howard family keeper. During these peaks, someone would cross through time, leave some kind of change, and then the fracture would remain quiet for a century.
'It's like a carefully designed clockwork mechanism,' Jack mused, 'Every hundred years, the hand returns to its starting point, and the cycle begins again.'
A deeper question surfaced in my mind: 'Then what is the purpose of this cycle? Why such a precise hundred-year period?'
Jack was silent for a moment, his gaze falling on the lighthouse beam outside. 'Perhaps not all questions have answers,' he finally said, 'But I believe one thing—this cycle isn't accidental. It has some meaning, some purpose.'
Just then, I noticed that the last few pages of Arthur's diary contained an encoded note. Jack explained this was a private cipher used by the Howard family to record their most confidential information. It took him an hour to decode, and when he read the contents, we both held our breath:
'The cycle is about to begin again. Unlike the previous two times, I am destined to leave this time, not as an end, but as a new beginning. Time is not linear, but a web. Each node, each choice, creates countless possibilities. The guardian's responsibility is not to maintain the integrity of a single path, but to ensure the existence of the web itself. When the next guardian arrives, tell them: the true choice is not whether to change or accept fate, but to understand that fate itself is the sum of changes.'
These words seemed directed at us, spanning a century of time. Arthur apparently had faced similar choices and pondered the same questions.
'"The true choice is not whether to change or accept fate, but to understand that fate itself is the sum of changes,"' I softly repeated this sentence, 'What does it mean?'
Jack's expression became resolute: 'I think it means we shouldn't fixate on changing specific events or blindly accepting a predetermined path. Our choices, our actions themselves are part of fate.'
This idea gave me a sense of liberation. Perhaps Jack was right—perhaps what matters isn't whether we can ultimately change the accident on 21st September, but the choices we make when facing it.
Night had deepened, and we decided to rest for a while. When Jack left to inspect the lighthouse, I sat alone by the window, contemplating the significance of the hundred-year cycle. If time truly followed this periodic pattern, then my meeting with Jack wasn't coincidental, but part of some larger plan.
I opened Arthur's diary again, re-reading the passage about the 'blue lightning' and the 'ghost from the future.' There was a detail I had overlooked earlier—Arthur mentioned that the ghost 'held a clock face similar to mine.' What did this mean? Was it a future guardian who travelled back in time with a pocket watch? Or perhaps...
A bold idea formed in my mind: What if the 'ghost' in 1826 was Jack? What if the lighthouse accident on 21st September didn't end his life, but sent him to another point in time?
This thought was both shocking and hopeful. It meant Jack might not die in the lighthouse accident, but it also meant we might be sent to different points in time, forever separated.
I heard Jack's footsteps returning and quickly closed the diary. This theory was too overwhelming; I needed more evidence before sharing it with him. If I was wrong, it would only give him false hope.
'Everything all right?' Jack asked, noticing my pensive expression.
'Just thinking about the meaning of the hundred-year cycle,' I replied, which wasn't entirely untrue, 'If time really follows this pattern, then 21st September isn't just about us, but about the continuation of the entire cycle.'
Jack sat beside me, his hand gently covering mine. 'Whatever happens, Ella, remember one thing—even if time separates us, our meeting itself has already changed the cycle. This is no longer repeating the story of the previous century, but creating entirely new possibilities.'
In the glow of the lighthouse, we sat quietly, each contemplating the mystery of the hundred-year cycle and the approaching fate. Outside, waves crashed against rocks, just as they had every day a century before and would a century after. Time flows, the cycle continues, but the choices and emotions within each cycle make it unique.
Only three days remained until 21st September. And we were standing at a crucial node in the hundred-year cycle, our choices potentially altering not just our own fates, but the direction of the entire cycle.