Thomas Stone's cottage stood on a cliff at the northern edge of town, far from other dwellings. By the time we arrived, dusk had deepened, and the cloud-covered sky brought night earlier than usual. A faint light shone from the cottage, with thin smoke rising from the chimney.
Jack knocked on the wooden door, weathered by sea winds. A moment later, the door opened, and an elderly man with snow-white hair stood there, examining us with sharp eyes. He was thin but upright, his hands marked by the traces of years and seawater.
'Howard's boy,' he said in a deep, raspy voice, 'I figured you'd come sooner or later.' Then his gaze turned to me, 'And you, the girl who doesn't belong to this time.'
I stared at him in shock, not understanding how he knew my secret. Thomas offered no explanation, merely stepping aside to let us enter the cottage.
The interior was small but tidy, with walls covered in nautical tools and old photographs. One photo particularly caught our attention—a young fisherman standing on the dock, beside a man who looked remarkably similar to Jack, wearing clothes slightly different from the 1920s style.
'My great-grandfather and "Joseph,"' Thomas noticed our gaze and explained, 'Taken at the dock in 1827.'
'You know why we've come,' Jack said directly.
The old man nodded, sitting in a rocking chair by the fireplace. 'The Stone family has known the secrets of the lighthouse and time for generations. We weren't as directly involved as the Howard family, but we were witnesses and record-keepers.'
'Do you know what happened to "Joseph"?' I asked eagerly, 'Was he really...?'
'Jack Howard from the future?' Thomas completed my question, 'Yes, at least according to the stories passed down by my ancestors. He appeared on 21st September 1826, lived in town for a few months, then... he found his way home.'
'Home?' Jack and I asked simultaneously, hope filling our voices.
Thomas stood up and walked to an old sea chest, taking out a waterproof cloth package. 'He left this with my family, requesting it be given to "the future Jack" at the appropriate time.'
He opened the package and took out a roll of yellowed parchment—a detailed map of the coastline, marking a location beneath the cliff, with the words 'Time's Vortex' written beside it in faded ink.
'An underwater cave,' Thomas explained, 'accessible only at the lowest tide. They say it's where the time fracture first appeared, even older than the lighthouse. "Joseph" discovered something there that helped him... cross back.'
Jack studied the map carefully, his brow furrowed. 'Does this cave still exist?'
'It does, but few know of it.' Thomas looked out the window, 'Tomorrow morning at 5 o'clock is this month's lowest tide, when the entrance will be temporarily exposed. If you want to explore it, that's your only chance.'
We thanked Thomas and were about to leave when he called after us: 'One more thing. "Joseph" left a warning—the cave will show visions of the past and future, but don't be misled by them. Whatever you see, remember your purpose.'
That night, back at the lighthouse, we prepared for the next day's exploration. Jack was unusually quiet, only speaking as we organised our equipment: 'If tomorrow we truly find clues from "Joseph," if it's confirmed I'll be sent back to 1826...'
'And then find a way home,' I completed his thought, 'This gives us hope, Jack. Not a desperate ending, but a possibility.'
He looked at me, his eyes filled with complex emotions: 'But what does "home" mean for me? The lighthouse of 1925? Or... some completely different time and place?'
I couldn't answer this question, could only hold his hand, feeling the warmth and certainty between us, even in this world filled with uncertainty.
At 4 AM the next morning, we left the lighthouse with ropes, lamps, and tools, heading towards the location Thomas had marked. Dawn hadn't broken yet, and the sea surface gleamed silver under the faint starlight. The tide had receded, revealing the rocky shore normally covered by seawater.
When we reached the marked position, the first light of dawn was just appearing on the horizon. Beneath the cliff, a dark opening was barely visible, just as Thomas had said, visible only at the lowest tide.
'We need to hurry,' Jack said, 'The tide will return within two hours, submerging the entrance again.'
We carefully climbed down the slippery rocks to the entrance. The opening was larger than expected, big enough for a person to enter while stooping. Jack lit a lamp, illuminating the path inside.
The cave interior was damp and cold, its walls covered with glistening minerals that gave off a strange blue-green glow in the lamplight. We proceeded along a gradually descending passage, the sound of waves becoming more distant, replaced by an odd humming, as if some machine were operating in the distance.
'Do you hear that?' I asked quietly.
Jack nodded: 'It's like the lighthouse's rotating mechanism, but not quite... more like...'
'The ticking of a clock,' I finished his thought, 'amplified hundreds of times.'
As we ventured deeper, the passage gradually widened, eventually leading to a circular hall. In the centre was a perfectly round pool, its surface still as a mirror, reflecting the blue-green glow from the surrounding walls. Surprisingly, despite being far from the entrance, it wasn't dark here—the pool itself seemed to emit light, as if some light source existed within it.
'Incredible,' Jack whispered, shining his lamp toward the pool, 'This can't be naturally formed.'
Indeed, the entire hall looked deliberately designed, with complex symbols and patterns carved into the walls, some similar to the engravings on Jack's pocket watch, others completely unfamiliar. And although the cave connected to the sea, the water in the pool wasn't seawater—it was clear and transparent, without any saltiness.
'Look over there,' I pointed to a niche across the pool, where a small metal box sat, looking out of place among the ancient surroundings.
We circled the pool to reach the metal box. It was made of some unknown alloy, showing no signs of rust, as if it had been placed there just yesterday. Two names were engraved on the box: 'J.H. to J.H.'—Jack Howard to Jack Howard, a message spanning a century.
Jack's hand trembled slightly as he carefully opened the box. Inside was a sealed letter and a small mechanical device that looked like a component for a pocket watch.
The letter was brief, but its contents were shocking:
'To my future self, If you're reading this letter, the cycle is about to complete. The underwater cave is key—it's not only the source of the time fracture but also the control point for crossing. Install the enclosed device in your watch; it will help you control the direction and destination of your crossing. Remember: two watches activated simultaneously, two time points connected momentarily, the choice must be made in an instant. — Joseph (you know who this is) March 1827'
'This is incredible,' I said softly, 'It confirms you'll be sent to 1826, and... you found a way back.'
Jack examined the device carefully: 'This indeed looks like it could be installed inside the watch, but what does it do? How does it "control the crossing direction"?'
Just then, the water in the pool began to ripple, though there was no wind or vibration in the cave. The light from within the water grew stronger, illuminating the entire hall. Then, images began to appear on the water's surface, like some supernatural projection.
We saw the lighthouse—at different points in time: under construction in 1825, intact in 1925, abandoned in 2025. The images kept changing, finally settling on one scene: the lighthouse on 21st September, surrounded by a storm, its top level engulfed in blue light.
'Is this... a premonition?' Jack asked uncertainly.
The water's image changed again, this time showing two figures standing at the top of the lighthouse—Jack and me, face to face, each holding a pocket watch. Blue light burst from the watches, enveloping both people. Then, the image suddenly darkened, and when it brightened again, only one figure remained—too blurry to identify.
'What is this telling us?' I asked in confusion, my heart racing.
Jack shook his head: 'I'm not sure. Thomas warned that visions would be confusing... but this feels more like some kind of hint.'
Suddenly, we heard a rumbling sound from afar—the tide was beginning to rise, faster than expected.
'We need to leave,' Jack said decisively, carefully storing the letter and device, 'and discuss these findings later.'
We hurriedly retraced our steps, but water had already begun flowing into the passage. By the time we approached the exit, the water was knee-deep and rising quickly.
'Hurry!' Jack grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the exit.
We barely escaped before the entrance was completely submerged, soaking wet and breathless, but safely back on the rocky shore.
Standing in the morning light, looking out at the calm sea, it was hard to believe everything we had just experienced and seen. But the metal box in Jack's hand proved this was no illusion—we had found a message left by Jack from the past ('Joseph'), perhaps the key to changing destiny.
'Less than 24 hours left,' Jack said softly, looking at the distant lighthouse, 'Tomorrow is 21st September.'
I nodded, feeling both hope and fear. The discovery in the underwater cave confirmed that Jack might be sent to the past, but also gave us the possibility of controlling this process. The question now was: how should we use this device? How should we interpret the visions in the pool? More importantly, that solitary figure left in the lighthouse—would it be me, or Jack?