The mirror went black.
Mara stared at it.
She waited.
Nothing.
“Elias?”
No answer.
“Elias.”
Static crackled.
Then his voice returned.
“Mara.”
She exhaled.
“You’re still there.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did the mirror go black?”
“It cut the connection.”
“Can you reconnect?”
“I’ll try.”
The glass remained dark.
Mara stepped closer.
“Try again.”
“I am.”
Nothing happened.
She looked at the metal plate Elias had shown her.
THOMAS WHITMORE
ANCHOR FOUR — ORIGINAL CUSTODIAN
SUCCESSOR: MARA WHITMORE
Her grandfather had known.
Not suspected.
Not stumbled across something strange.
Known.
And apparently, he’d known she would eventually inherit it.
Mara’s hands tightened.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I mean I really don’t understand.”
Elias was silent.
Mara picked up the notebook from the table.
She turned to the pages where she’d written her plans for the farm.
Food.
Seeds.
Greenhouses.
Livestock.
Trade.
A future.
Then she looked at the plate.
“CUSTODIAN.”
The word felt wrong.
“I don’t want to be a custodian.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“But apparently I already am.”
“According to a piece of metal from a project that nearly destroyed a world.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“I wasn’t trying to reassure you.”
“I know.”
The mirror flickered.
For half a second, Elias’s face disappeared.
Then returned.
His expression was tense.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“Someone is at Blackridge.”
She froze.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rowan?”
“No.”
“Selene?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Elias looked toward the station entrance.
“I heard the outer gate.”
Mara’s pulse quickened.
“Could it be a survivor?”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Because nobody should know we’re here.”
Mara frowned.
“Someone knows.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Elias moved away from the mirror.
Mara could still hear him.
Metal clicked.
A door closed.
Then another.
“Where are you going?”
“Communications room.”
“Why?”
“To check the perimeter.”
“You said someone was at the gate.”
“I know.”
“So don’t go alone.”
A pause.
“I’m taking Rowan.”
“Good.”
“And Selene.”
“Better.”
Mara sat down.
She hated being on the other side.
She hated not being able to help.
Elias’s voice came through the radio.
“Blackridge to Whitmore.”
Mara picked it up.
“Whitmore here.”
“Testing.”
“Signal clear.”
“Good.”
A second voice came through.
Rowan.
“Hello, mysterious farmer lady.”
Mara smiled.
“Hello, suspicious scavenger boy.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you keep acting twelve.”
“Rude.”
Elias interrupted.
“Focus.”
Rowan sighed.
“Fine.”
Mara heard footsteps.
Then the outer gate creaked.
Silence.
A long silence.
Finally Rowan spoke.
“There’s nobody there.”
Elias replied:
“Check the road.”
“Tracks?”
“None.”
Mara frowned.
“Then what opened the gate?”
Nobody answered.
A metallic sound echoed through the radio.
Three knocks.
Mara’s skin prickled.
“Was that inside?”
Elias was silent.
Then:
“Yes.”
At Whitmore House, Mara stood.
The sound came again.
Three knocks.
Not from the mirror.
From beneath her.
She stared at the floor.
The hidden room.
Her grandfather’s warning.
If the door opens, do not enter alone.
Mara grabbed her phone.
“Elias.”
“I heard it.”
“Under my house.”
“Don’t go down.”
“I won’t.”
Another knock.
This time— four.
Mara looked toward the mirror.
“Elias?”
“I’m still here.”
The connection flickered.
His face distorted.
For a second, Mara saw the underground room behind him.
Then something else.
A woman.
Standing in the doorway.
White coat.
Dark hair.
Blood on her sleeve.
Mara’s breath caught.
“Elias.”
He turned.
“What?”
“There’s someone behind you.”
He spun around.
Nothing.
The mirror stabilized.
“What did you see?”
“A woman.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara stared at the glass.
“She looked like the woman in the photograph.”
Elias went still.
“Elena Vale.”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You said that before.”
“I know.”
He stepped closer to the mirror.
“Mara, what exactly did she look like?”
“White coat.
Dark hair.
She looked injured.”
“Anything else?”
“She was standing in the doorway.”
“Which doorway?”
“The one behind you.”
Elias turned again.
Nothing.
Then his expression changed.
“Mara.”
“What?”
“There’s a door here that wasn’t open before.”
He moved toward it.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“Why?”
“Because you promised.”
A pause.
“You’re right.”
Mara smiled faintly.
“Good.”
Then the door opened by itself.
It revealed a small room.
No creature.
No person.
Just equipment.
Old monitors.
A chair.
A metal desk.
And a single recording terminal.
Elias stood outside.
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“I think I found her.”
“Elena?”
“Maybe.”
He examined the terminal.
There was a handprint scanner.
Four circles surrounded it.
He hesitated.
Then placed his palm against the scanner.
Nothing happened.
He looked toward the mirror.
“Not me.”
Mara understood.
“Try my name.”
“How?”
“The system knows me.”
Elias looked at the terminal.
Then typed:
MARA WHITMORE
The screen came alive.
IDENTITY ACCEPTED.
Mara’s heart stopped.
Elias stared.
“How does it know you?”
“I don’t know.”
The terminal continued.
CUSTODIAN ACCESS GRANTED.
A file appeared.
THOMAS WHITMORE — PERSONAL LOG
Mara moved closer to the mirror.
“Play it.”
Elias pressed the button.
Static filled the room.
Mara recognized it immediately.
Her grandfather.
“If this recording is playing, then I’m dead.”
Mara’s throat tightened.
Thomas continued.
“I don’t know when you’ll hear this, Mara.”
She closed her eyes.
“But if you’re hearing it, then the mirror has chosen you.”
Elias looked at her.
Mara couldn’t speak.
Her grandfather’s voice continued.
“I spent years believing the Meridian Project could be controlled.”
A pause.
“I was wrong.”
The recording crackled.
“The project discovered that worlds could overlap.”
Mara stared at the screen.
“They called them anchors because every stable connection required a point of reference.”
Another pause.
“At first, we believed the anchors were machines.”
The screen displayed four circles.
“They weren’t.”
Mara whispered:
“What were they?”
Her grandfather answered.
“People.”
Silence.
Elias looked at Mara.
The recording continued.
“Four people could stabilize a connection.”
“Four minds.”
“Four signatures.”
“Four worlds, if necessary.”
Mara frowned.
“Four worlds?”
Her grandfather continued.
“But the fourth anchor was different.”
The recording distorted.
“The fourth anchor could move.”
Mara’s pulse quickened.
“Could choose.”
Static.
“Could remember.”
Mara looked at the words still lingering faintly on the mirror.
THE FOURTH REMEMBERS.
Her grandfather’s voice became quieter.
“And that’s why they were afraid of it.”
“Afraid of who?”
The recording skipped.
Then returned.
“Not the fourth anchor.”
A pause.
“The person who could become one.”
Mara’s breathing stopped.
Her grandfather continued.
“Your grandmother wanted me to destroy the station.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Because I believed we could fix what we’d broken.”
A long silence.
“I was wrong again.”
The recording ended.
The screen went black.
Mara stared at it.
Elias said nothing.
Finally she whispered:
“So I’m not the anchor.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“The system called me Anchor Four.”
“Yes.”
“But Grandpa said the fourth could move.”
“Yes.”
“And the station called me successor.”
“Yes.”
Mara looked toward the mirror.
“Then what am I?”
The terminal suddenly turned on.
One final message appeared.
CUSTODIAN ≠ ANCHOR
Mara stared.
Then another line appeared.
CUSTODIAN OBSERVES
ANCHOR STABILIZES
A third line.
THE FOURTH DOES BOTH
Mara’s blood ran cold.
Elias stepped closer to the glass.
“Mara.”
“I see it.”
The screen flickered.
Then displayed:
ANCHOR FOUR — ACTIVE
CUSTODIAN — ACCEPTED
MERIDIAN NETWORK — REACTIVATING
The old facility began to hum.
One machine.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Across Veyra, dormant Meridian stations woke.
Elias looked toward the window.
Far beyond Blackridge, lights began appearing across the horizon.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Then dozens more.
Mara stared through the mirror.
“What did we just do?”
Elias didn’t answer.
Because the terminal had one final message.
STABILIZATION BEGINS IN 24 HOURS.
Beneath it:
ANCHOR FOUR MUST CHOOSE A DIRECTION.
Mara stared at the countdown.
23:59:59.
23:59:58.
23:59:57.
She looked at Elias.
“Choose a direction?”
He nodded slowly.
“I think tomorrow we find out what that means.”
Mara looked toward the greenhouse.
The seedlings were growing.
The Moonvine was glowing.
Her farm was beginning.
And somewhere beneath her house, an ancient machine had started counting down.
She closed her notebook.
“Then tomorrow,” she said quietly, “we work.”
Elias smiled.
“Together.”
END OF CHAPTER TWELVE