Later that night, Kallen found Anna in her room, drawing in her sketchbook. "Hey, kiddo. Can I come in?"
Anna looked up. "Sure."
Kallen sat on the edge of her bed. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Your mom and I… we're going on a trip. To Africa."
Anna's face fell. "For how long?"
Kallen hesitated. "A few days. Maybe a week. But it's important. We're trying to learn more about the statue."
Anna looked down at her sketchbook. "Oh."
Kallen reached out, tilting her chin up. "Hey. I know it's not fair. And I'm sorry. But I promise, when we get back, we'll spend the whole weekend together. Just you and me. No work, no research. Just… us."
Anna's eyes lit up. "Really?"
Kallen smiled. "Really. And maybe we'll even paint something together. Ceiling included."
Anna giggled. "Deal."
Left at the museum with Professor John, Anna spent her days wandering the labyrinth of exhibits. On their second evening together, they paused in front of an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. John adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, his voice soft but precise. "Notice the hieroglyphs here, Anna. They tell stories of rebirth—cycles of endings and beginnings. Fascinating, isn't it?"
Anna traced the carvings with her eyes. "It's like they knew people would still care about their stories thousands of years later."
"Precisely." John's eyes sparkled. "That's the magic of history. It whispers to us, urging us to listen."
Anna hesitated, then blurted, "Professor… have *you* seen the archangel statue?"
John paused, turning to her with a thoughtful frown. "I have. Why do you ask?"
"It… *calls* to me. Like it's part of me. Does that sound crazy?"
Instead of dismissing her, John knelt to meet her gaze, his tone earnest. "When I was your age, I found a Roman coin in my grandmother's garden. It was corroded, barely recognizable, but I felt this… *pull*. I stayed up all night cleaning it, convinced it held secrets. Turns out, it was a common coin—worthless to most. But to me?" He smiled. "It was a portal. A way to imagine the hands it had passed through, the lives it had touched. So no, Anna. Feeling a connection isn't crazy. It's curiosity—the heartbeat of a true researcher."
Anna's shoulders relaxed. "But this statue… it's *different*. It looks like *me*. Like… it's from a future I haven't lived yet."
John stood, his gaze drifting to the vaulted ceiling. "Logic tells me statues don't hold destinies. But history?" He chuckled. "History is full of 'impossible' things—cities buried in ash, languages decoded from stones. Perhaps this statue *is* a message. Not from the future, but from someone who wanted us to ask questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"Why does it resemble you? Why was it hidden in the ocean? Why do *you* feel its weight in your bones?" He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Answers begin with curiosity, Anna. Let's find yours tomorrow. We'll study the statue together—measurements, materials, every detail. But tonight," he added, tapping the sarcophagus, "let's finish translating this story. The pharaoh here claims he spoke to crocodiles. I suspect he exaggerated."
Anna giggled, the tension melting away. "Or maybe the crocodiles lied to him."
"A scholar after my own heart," John said, grinning. "Now, grab my notebook. Let's play detective."
" yes"
**Later That Night**
Anna lay in her temporary bed at the museum's guest quarters, staring at the ceiling. Professor John's words echoed in her mind: *"Answers begin with curiosity."* The statue's metallic wings shimmered in her memory, and the hieroglyphs of crocodiles and pharaohs blurred into the archangel's serene face.
She tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around her legs. Finally, she slipped out of bed, her bare feet padding softly against the cold marble floor. The museum was silent except for the distant hum of security cameras.
Anna crept through the darkened galleries, her breath fogging the air. Moonlight streamed through the skylights, casting silver streaks over the archangel statue. Its wings glowed faintly, as if charged with starlight.
"You're just a statue," she whispered, but her voice wavered. She reached out, her fingertips grazing the smooth, cool surface.
A jolt of energy surged through her arm. The room spun, colors bleeding into a whirlpool of gold and blue. Anna's knees buckled, and she collapsed, her vision dissolving into darkness.
Anna stood in a meadow, the air sweet with wildflowers. A girl sat on a cliff's edge, her back to Anna, staring at five weathered tombstones. The girl's black hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her violet eyes—Anna's eyes—glistened with unshed tears.
"Who are you?" Anna asked, stepping closer.
The girl turned, her face older, harder, but undeniably Anna's. "I'm what you'll become… if you fail."
"Fail at what?"
The girl gestured to the tombstones. "Protecting them."
Before Anna could ask more, the ground shuddered. The meadow fractured, replaced by a city in ruins. Dragons scorched the sky, and stone golems crushed buildings beneath their fists. The older Anna—now with hair as white as ash—leapt into the chaos, a glowing sword in hand. She moved like a storm, cutting down monsters with impossible grace.
"This is your fight too," the warrior shouted over the roar of flames. "The statue is the key. Find its truth—*our* truth—before it's too late!"
Anna gasped, bolting upright. Her forehead throbbed, and her nightgown clung to her sweat-damp skin. Professor John knelt beside her, a flashlight in one hand and a first-aid kit in the other.
"Anna! What on earth were you doing here?" His voice was sharp with worry.
"I saw her," Anna panted, clutching his sleeve. "The warrior—the one who looks like me. She said the statue is the key to stopping a disaster! Dragons, golems… it's going to happen!"
John sighed, rubbing his temples. "Anna, you've had a nightmare. A vivid one, yes, but just a nightmare. You've been under a lot of stress—new exhibits, your parents away…"
"But I *felt* it!" Anna insisted, her voice rising. "The statue *shocked* me when I touched it!"
John shone the flashlight over the statue's smooth surface. "No scorch marks, no residue. See? Perfectly inert." He softened his tone. "You're a bright girl, but even bright minds play tricks when they're tired. Come on—let's get you back to bed."
Anna scowled. "You don't believe me."
"I believe you're exhausted," John said firmly, helping her stand. "And that your imagination is as active as your curiosity. Tomorrow, we'll revisit the statue in daylight, with proper tools. No more midnight adventures, understood?"
As they walked back, Anna glanced over her shoulder at the archangel. Its wings gleamed faintly, almost mockingly.
"It wasn't a dream," she muttered.
John chuckled. "When I was your age, I dreamed I could breathe underwater. Woke up convinced I'd grow gills. Turns out I'd just eaten too many gummy worms before bed."
Anna crossed her arms. "This is different."
"Maybe," John said, patting her shoulder. "Or maybe your brain's stitching together stress and that Egyptian sarcophagus story we translated. Crocodile-talking pharaohs, remember?"
Anna didn't laugh. The warrior's warning still rang in her ears, sharp and urgent. But as they turned the corner, the statue vanished from sight, leaving only the echo of its metallic wings in her mind.