The Silent Guardian — Chapter 27, Part 2: Deep Time

This installment is part of The Silent Guardian Series.

I scribble, Then let’s go back to the moment you buried it. We can get it before the Phylax. A grin washes over her. “Right,” she says, “We should have gone there first.” She steps forward, gripping our arms firmly. “Hold on,” Clara warns with a note of adrenaline. Before we can move, a shadow falls across us. My muscles tense, preparing for a fight. The Phylax must have been waiting for us. Footsteps echo softly against the worn stone. Light catches the edge of a familiar silhouette. Stepping out from the narrow alley, the merchant emerges. “Ah-ha, I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me,” he says, pretending to brush dust from his sleeve. First, a sigh of relief. Second, I want to punch him. Xia stiffens. “Stay here,” she mutters, striding toward him. I take out the notebook. How did he follow us through time? Clara crosses her arms; her distrust is evident. “He always seems to know too much. What’s his angle? I don’t buy this sudden allegiance to our cause.” I don’t either, I admit. We watch as they exchange words. I can’t hear what they’re saying; however, there’s something odd in Xia’s posture. It’s not hostility, exactly. “None of us should,” Clara says while watching Xia. When Xia returns, the merchant lingers at a distance. He peers at me, tilting his head slightly, raising a hand in a slow, deliberate wave. There is something familiar about it that wants my attention. Unfortunately, he vanishes through time before I can place it.

Xia says, “There, I got him to go back to the car.” She reaches out for our arms. “Let’s go,” she says abruptly, deciding not to share any of their conversation.

The world that emerges is alien. Soaring ferns loom overhead, their trunks thick with tangled vines. The air is hot and humid—alive with the hum of a vast prehistoric wilderness. Strange calls echo through the thick canopy. Massive dragonflies skim through the dense, moist air. Light filters softly through layers of vegetation, giving everything an otherworldly glow. I briefly forget our mission. I feel the raw, unspoiled force of nature at its peak. Endless life surrounds us, reminding me how small we are in the grand sweep of existence. Here, I’m not a time traveler or a soldier. I’m a witness to a world that existed long before humanity. The serenity is short-lived. The undergrowth rustles too forcefully to be the wind. I catch a glimpse of something. Scales reflect sunlight before vanishing into the jungle. The hum of insects fades. Clara freezes beside me. I unsheath my knife. “What was that?” Clara whispers. “Something we don’t want to meet,” Xia answers, scanning the dense foliage for any sign of movement. The rumble of a low growl vibrates through the ground. With the excitement, each inhalation feels shallow, never fully satisfying. Clara must sense my discomfort because she explains before I ask, “Oxygen levels are lower here. We have to move slowly. You’ll feel breathless.” She is correct. It is challenging to get enough air. Something else isn’t right. I fish the talisman out of my pocket, frowning when it remains unchanged in my hand. If the anchor were here, shouldn’t it react? At least a little? Clara steps toward a mossy rock, kneels, and brushes dirt aside. Her posture sags as her hand finds empty space in a hollow of soil. The anchor is gone. I hold up a finger, signaling Clara and Xia to stay put.

The present peels away while movements of the ancient forest rewind. Then I see what happened. Clara kneels on the forest floor. There is urgency as she digs a hole. Sweat streaks her brow. She places the anchor inside the hole and smooths the dirt as best she can. She rises. Seconds later, she disappears. She wasn’t alone.

They emerge from nowhere. Dozens of Phylax agents step into the clearing, their cloaks blending into the foliage. One kneels, uncovering the anchor, while another opens a sleek metallic case. They handle the sacred anchor, locking it away for safety. The leader pauses, his watch sweeping the forest. He gestures, and the agents follow his cue, vanishing into the gloom, leaving no trace of their presence behind.

I pull myself back to Clara. The forest snaps to its present state, alive with sound. I scribble furiously, They were waiting for you. They knew exactly where you buried it. I pass the note to Clara, watching as she skims the words. Her jaw tightens. I see the anger flare. She grips the paper like it’s her enemy. Xia examines the empty hollow. “We go back and fight for it,” she suggests. I scribble more words. Too many. Dozens of agents. We don’t have a chance against that many. Clara exhales sharply. “Then we’ll have to find another way,” she says. I tap my pen against the notebook in deep contemplation. A possibility comes to mind. I write, Someone at the Renegade compound might have one—perhaps the priest. Taking it from him would be justice after everything he has done. That means going back to America. We must confront the Archon first. Clara reads my note. Her resolve mirrors the fire burning inside me. Xia adjusts her pack. She scans the trees, expecting the Phylax to reappear. “Let’s get going,” Clara says. I tuck the notebook back into my satchel. This anchor is gone, but there are many more out there. However, there is only one Archon. If any fairness exists in this world, we will learn how to stop the time lock from him.

Previous: previous installment. Continue with Chapter 28, Part 1.

Start reading The Silent Guardian from the beginning · Browse all Silent Guardian Series posts.