On our journey back to the lighthouse from the antique shop, the harbingers of the approaching storm grew increasingly ominous. The wind strengthened, waves began to crash violently against the coastal rocks, and the sky took on an unnatural greenish-grey hue. Although all signs suggested that the lighthouse incident of September 21st would unfold as historically documented, our newfound knowledge of the three pocket watches gave us at least some sense of control over our fate.
Jack guided the carriage along the increasingly desolate road, both of us lost in our private thoughts. Who should cross the temporal divide? Who should remain behind? In which era did we ultimately wish to settle? These questions offered no simple answers, each choice laden with sacrifice and uncertainty.
As the lighthouse loomed into view, we spotted a familiar figure hastening towards us—Margaret, Jack's sister, her golden-brown hair tousled by the wind, her face etched with anxiety and concern.
"Thank heavens I've found you!" she exclaimed breathlessly as Jack promptly halted the carriage and leapt down to meet her.
"Margaret, what's happened?" Jack asked, steadying her by the shoulders.
"You must take care", she said urgently. "The mayor convened a group this morning. I overheard them discussing the lighthouse and the 'peculiar visitor'—I believe he means Ella. They plan to investigate this afternoon".
Jack and I exchanged troubled glances. The mayor's intervention could gravely disrupt our plans, particularly at the crucial moment of 5:47.
"What precisely did they say?" I asked, descending from the carriage to join their conversation.
"Mayor Clark appears to believe there's some manner of danger or threat at the lighthouse", Margaret explained. "He mentioned 'abnormal energy fluctuations' and 'phenomena that defy natural laws'. Worse still, he clutched what looked like documents purloined from the Historical Society, concerning the lighthouse incident of 1825 and 'temporal anomalies'".
This news caused my heart to sink. The mayor might have gleaned enough of the truth to recognise today's significance for the lighthouse, but not enough to comprehend the perils of intervention.
"When do they intend to arrive?" Jack asked gravely.
"Around four o'clock", Margaret replied. "They're gathering people and equipment. Clark seems particularly insistent that the lighthouse must be investigated today".
I consulted my pocket watch—it was now half past twelve. More than five hours remained until the pivotal moment at 5:47, but if the mayor arrived at four, our time would be severely constrained.
"There's more", Margaret continued, lowering her voice, her eyes filled with disquiet. "This morning at the café, I heard fishermen speaking of strange occurrences at sea. They say the water has turned blue in certain areas, fish are behaving oddly, as if influenced by some invisible force. Several people claimed to have glimpsed a 'phantom lighthouse'—an exact replica of the real lighthouse, but semi-transparent, materialising and vanishing beside the actual structure".
"The timelines are beginning to overlap", Jack murmured, his voice betraying both a scientist's fascination and the trepidation of confronting the unknown. "Just as Ella experienced, but on a grander scale. The rift is widening".
"I'm not merely concerned about the mayor", Margaret added, anxiously eyeing the darkening sky in the distance. "If these phenomena continue to intensify, the entire town could descend into panic. People are already beginning to link these anomalies with the lighthouse and... and with you, Jack".
I recalled the archives' mention of Arthur Howard's experience—after the time rift incident, he was briefly regarded by townsfolk as a heretic or sorcerer. History seemed to cycle in familiar patterns.
"One thing more", Margaret withdrew a folded letter from her pocket. "A stranger visited the café last night and left this letter, specifically to be given to 'the woman from the future'. I wanted to deliver it earlier but couldn't find the proper moment".
I accepted the letter, my fingers trembling slightly. The envelope bore no name, only a familiar symbol—a line through a circle, the mark of the Time Keeper.
I carefully opened the envelope and extracted a brief note:
"Ella, By the time you read this, the moment of choice will be at hand. Remember: the three pocket watches function only when in the right hands. The mayor and his people will interfere, but they cannot alter destiny. Most importantly, trust your intuition, not logic or fear. Time is not a river, but an ocean. Every drop matters, yet none is irreplaceable. —E.M."
"E.M."—Emily Morrison, my grandmother. This letter couldn't have been written by her in 1925, as she had already returned to the future by then. This meant she penned it in the modern era, somehow foreseeing my journey, and arranging for it to traverse time.
"We must hasten our plans", Jack said decisively, gazing toward the increasingly murky sky. "If the mayor arrives at four, we must ensure all preparations are complete beforehand".
Margaret looked at us, her eyes brimming with concern and questions: "What precisely are you planning? These strange phenomena, the visit to the antique shop, and now this mysterious letter... Jack, tell me what's happening".
Jack hesitated, then made his decision. "Margaret, I require your assistance, but this means I must tell you some extraordinary things".
Briefly and urgently, Jack explained about the time rift, the hundred-year cycle, the three pocket watches, and what might transpire that afternoon. Margaret listened in astonishment, but to my surprise, she didn't appear entirely shocked.
"I always sensed there was something unusual about the lighthouse and our family", she finally remarked. "I simply never imagined it would be so... momentous. You might truly vanish, or be transported to another era?"
"Yes", Jack confirmed softly. "But we have a plan, we're prepared. Now, I need you to return to town and delay the mayor as much as possible. Create confusion, spread rumours, anything that might postpone their arrival at the lighthouse".
Margaret drew a deep breath and nodded: "I can manage that. Helen and a few trusted friends will assist". Then she turned to me, her eyes shining with a new understanding and respect: "Look after my brother, whichever era you both ultimately inhabit".
"I will", I promised, feeling the gravity of that commitment.
Margaret gave Jack a fervent embrace, then swiftly turned and hurried toward the town. Watching her figure recede along the winding road, I felt a pang of disquiet—this might be the final time Jack would see his sister.
"We should return to the lighthouse", Jack said quietly, his voice tinged with the melancholy of having just bid farewell to his sister. "There remains much to prepare".
Back at the lighthouse, we immediately commenced final preparations. Jack examined the lighthouse equipment to ensure the light would function properly during the storm, while I studied the three pocket watches, attempting to comprehend the connection between them and how to utilise them most effectively.
The storm was now imminent, the sound of waves battering the lighthouse base growing louder, like the impatient rapping of time itself. Outside, the sky had almost completely darkened, with occasional lightning illuminating the entire bay.
We both knew the next few hours would determine everything. We had to complete preparations before the mayor's arrival, activate the three pocket watches at precisely 5:47, and make the final decision—who would cross over, who would stay behind, and which era would be our ultimate destination.
My grandmother's words echoed in my mind: "The three pocket watches function only when in the right hands". What did this mean? What distribution would be "right"? I didn't know the answer, but time was ebbing away, and the moment of decision was rapidly approaching.