The fourth knock echoed through the house.
Then silence.
Mara stood in the mirror room with one hand pressed against her chest.
Her heartbeat seemed impossibly loud.
She waited.
Nothing.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Her voice trembled.
“That was four.”
The mirror remained black.
Mara took one careful step backward.
Then another.
She reached the doorway.
Nothing moved.
No footsteps.
No breathing.
No voice.
She looked down the hallway.
Empty.
“Good.”
She swallowed.
“Very good.”
She turned to leave.
The mirror lit up.
Mara spun around.
Four points of pale light appeared beneath the black glass.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
They arranged themselves around the Meridian symbol.
Then the first light disappeared.
The second followed.
The third.
Only the fourth remained.
Mara stared at it.
The light moved toward the edge of the glass.
Then stopped.
Right where the wooden frame had cracked.
Mara slowly approached.
The crack had grown.
It wasn’t large.
Barely two inches.
But something inside it glowed faintly.
Mara touched the wood.
Warm.
She immediately pulled her hand away.
“No.”
The light went out.
The mirror returned to normal.
Mara stood there for another minute.
Then she made a decision.
She wasn’t going to investigate alone.
At seven the next morning, Mara carried the cylinder downstairs.
She put it on the kitchen table.
Then she put the letter beside it.
Then the Aetherite.
Then her grandfather’s notebook.
She looked at the collection.
“Family heirlooms.”
She made coffee.
“Normal family heirlooms.”
Her phone rang.
Mara answered.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Did you sleep?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
Mara glanced toward the stairs.
“Old house.”
Her mother sighed.
“I knew this would happen.”
“What?”
“You’re going to spend every waking hour fixing that place.”
Mara smiled.
“Probably.”
“You sound happy.”
Mara paused.
She did.
For the first time in a long time, she actually did.
“I think I am.”
“Then I’m glad.”
Her mother hesitated.
“Just be careful.”
Mara looked at the black cylinder.
“I will.”
She ended the call.
The mirror room waited upstairs.
Mara took her coffee.
Then she climbed the stairs.
Elias appeared almost immediately.
He looked like he hadn’t slept either.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
“I have an excuse.”
“So do I.”
“What?”
“Talking to another world all night.”
Mara smiled.
“Fair.”
Elias glanced toward her.
“Did it happen again?”
Mara’s smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“The knocking?”
“Four times.”
His jaw tightened.
“Anything else?”
“The mirror showed the four lights.”
“Then what?”
“The fourth moved.”
“Where?”
“To the crack in the frame.”
Elias was silent.
“That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara raised an eyebrow.
He smiled faintly.
“Don’t.”
“I wasn’t going to say maybe.”
“Good.”
She held up the cylinder.
“I want to know what’s inside this.”
“So do I.”
“I tried opening it.”
“How?”
“Twisting.
Pressing.
Tapping.”
Elias stared.
“You tapped it?”
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
Mara put the cylinder on the table.
“Can you tell what it is?”
Elias leaned toward the glass.
“Not exactly.”
“Useful.”
“I can tell you what it’s made from.”
“What?”
“Something I don’t recognize.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Not in Veyra.”
Mara frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Before The Falling, materials were catalogued.
Afterward, some things appeared that shouldn’t exist.”
He pointed toward the cylinder.
“This could be one of them.”
Mara looked at it.
“Can Aetherite open it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re going to say—”
“Don’t.”
She smiled.
“Right.”
“Try bringing the Aetherite close.”
Mara picked up the stone.
The faint blue light returned.
The cylinder remained dark.
Closer.
Nothing.
Closer.
Still nothing.
Then—
click.
Mara froze.
Elias went completely still.
The cylinder had changed.
A thin seam appeared along its center.
Mara slowly lowered the Aetherite.
The seam disappeared.
She raised it again.
Click.
The seam returned.
Mara stared.
“Elias.”
“I see it.”
“Don’t tell me to stop.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
She brought the Aetherite closer.
The cylinder opened.
Not outward.
The two halves separated by less than a centimeter.
Inside was darkness.
Then a tiny blue light appeared.
A projection rose from the cylinder.
Mara stumbled backward.
A three-dimensional symbol hovered above the table.
Four circles.
A central point.
Then a voice spoke.
It was distorted.
Mechanical.
But unmistakably human.
“Meridian synchronization sequence initiated.”
Mara’s breath caught.
The projection changed.
Four numbers appeared.
01
02
03
04
Then:
ANCHOR ONE — UNSTABLE
ANCHOR TWO — OFFLINE
ANCHOR THREE — OFFLINE
ANCHOR FOUR — ACTIVE
Mara looked at Elias.
Neither spoke.
The projection flickered.
Then one final message appeared.
CONNECTION DESTINATION: UNKNOWN
The cylinder went dark.
The Aetherite stopped glowing.
Mara slowly sat down.
“Elias.”
“Yes?”
“What is an anchor?”
He didn’t answer.
“Elias.”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a lie.”
His eyes met hers.
“I know what it means in engineering.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He looked away.
Mara understood immediately.
“You’ve seen the word before.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“On a Meridian facility.”
“Anchor?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
Elias hesitated.
“Four.”
Mara’s skin prickled.
“Four anchors.”
“Apparently.”
“One active.”
“Apparently.”
She looked at the mirror.
“Me?”
Elias didn’t answer.
Mara’s voice softened.
“Am I Anchor Four?”
“I don’t know.”
“But the connection appeared after I touched the Aetherite.”
“Yes.”
“And the mirror connected to me.”
“Yes.”
“And my grandparents knew about it.”
“Yes.”
Mara stood.
“So it’s possible.”
Elias nodded.
“Yes.”
She looked toward the fields outside.
For a moment, she imagined the future she’d planned.
A restored farmhouse.
A greenhouse.
Vegetables growing in neat rows.
Chickens.
Maybe a small business.
Something simple.
Something hers.
Now there was another world in her life.
A world full of ruined cities, strange energy, dangerous creatures—
and Elias.
She looked back at him.
“Does being an anchor mean something dangerous?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t know enough.”
Mara smiled weakly.
“You’re really terrible at reassurance.”
“I’m better at fixing buildings.”
“I noticed.”
They spent the rest of the morning testing the mirror.
Not dangerous tests.
Simple ones.
A spoon.
A pencil.
A cup.
A stone.
A bolt of cloth.
Every object crossed.
Mara recorded everything.
Weight.
Material.
Time.
Direction.
Distance.
The limit remained two kilograms.
Anything heavier stayed where it was.
The mirror didn’t seem to care what the object was.
Metal.
Wood.
Food.
Glass.
Paper.
Everything worked.
Except living things.
Mara had already promised not to test that.
And she intended to keep that promise.
“At least we know something useful,” she said.
Elias raised an eyebrow.
“Useful?”
“Two kilograms.”
“That’s not much.”
“It’s enough.”
“For what?”
Mara looked toward the kitchen.
“For seeds.”
Elias stared at her. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Then he understood.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
“Seeds.”
“Vegetable seeds.
Fruit seeds.
Grain.
Herbs.”
His expression changed.
Hope.
It was unmistakable.
“How much?”
“Within two kilograms.”
“That’s a lot of seeds.”
“Exactly.”
Mara smiled.
“We don’t need to feed your settlement forever.”
Elias nodded slowly.
“We can grow.”
“Yes.”
“Then grow more.”
“Yes.”
“Then teach others.”
“Exactly.”
For several seconds, they simply looked at each other.
It was a small idea.
Almost ridiculously small compared to ruined cities and dimensional anomalies.
Seeds.
But Mara understood something.
Civilization didn’t begin with cities.
It began with food.
With water.
With shelter.
With someone planting something and believing there would be a tomorrow.
She looked at Elias.
“Tomorrow.”
He smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
That afternoon, Mara drove into Bellwood.
She went to the hardware store.
Mrs.
Carter looked up from behind the counter.
“You look like you’ve discovered something.”
Mara stopped.
“Why?”
“You have that face.”
“What face?”
“The face people get when they’ve decided to spend money.”
Mara laughed.
“I need greenhouse supplies.”
Mrs.
Carter narrowed her eyes.
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“How much is a lot?”
Mara pulled out her list.
Mrs.
Carter read it.
Then looked up.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
“You planning to farm the entire county?”
“Not yet.”
Mrs.
Carter laughed.
“Good.”
Mara bought trays.
Soil.
Plastic sheeting.
Irrigation tubing.
Hand tools.
Seed-starting equipment.
Fertilizer.
A small water pump.
She left with the back of her truck full.
As she drove home, she passed the old fields.
For the first time, they didn’t look abandoned.
They looked unfinished.
That evening, Mara planted her first tray of seeds.
Tomatoes.
Beans.
Lettuce.
Carrots.
Herbs.
She labeled each tray carefully.
Then she stood back.
It wasn’t much.
A few trays of soil.
A greenhouse that still needed repairs.
Fields full of weeds.
A house with a mysterious mirror.
A cylinder that apparently belonged to a secret dimensional project.
And a man from another world waiting behind the glass.
Mara smiled.
“Not bad for a start.”
The mirror room was quiet.
Then the mirror flickered.
Mara looked up.
Elias appeared.
He was smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like you know something.”
“I do.”
Mara walked closer.
“What?”
Elias lifted something.
A small wooden box.
“What is that?”
“A gift.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
He pushed it toward the mirror.
It crossed.
Mara caught it.
She opened the lid.
Inside was a handful of strange seeds.
They were dark blue, almost black, with silver veins running through them.
Mara looked up.
“What are these?”
“Moonvine.”
“Can they grow?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then why send them?”
“Because you said you wanted seeds.”
Mara smiled.
“You’re learning.”
“I pay attention.”
She touched one of the seeds.
It was warm.
The same warmth she had felt from the Aetherite.
Her smile faded.
“Elias.”
“What?”
“The seed.”
A faint silver light moved beneath its surface.
Elias’s expression changed.
“Put it down.”
Mara did.
The seed continued glowing.
Then every seed in the box lit up.
At the same instant, the mirror went black.
Four lights appeared.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
The fourth moved toward Mara.
It stopped directly in front of her.
Then a message appeared.
ANCHOR FOUR CONFIRMED.
Mara couldn’t breathe.
Elias stared at her from the other side of the glass.
The mirror pulsed once.
And somewhere beneath Whitmore House—
a door began to open.
END OF CHAPTER SIX