"Truth hides in the strangest places—sometimes, even in the cracks of a lie."
The air in Amalina's apartment was thick with the smell of paint and varnish, but there was something else—something intangible. Amelia couldn't place it, but it felt heavy, almost oppressive.
"Welcome to my little sanctuary," Amalina said, gesturing around with a wide smile.
Thomas muttered under his breath, "Little, she says."
The walls were covered in paintings, each more mesmerizing than the last. Landscapes that seemed to move, portraits so lifelike they felt like they were watching, and abstract swirls of color that tugged at something deep inside Amelia.
But one painting caught her attention immediately—a large canvas at the center of the room, glowing faintly. The colors swirled and pulsed, like it was alive.
"Do you like it?" Amalina asked, noticing Amelia's stare.
Amelia hesitated. "It's… beautiful, but…"
"It's warm," Thomas interrupted, stepping closer to the canvas. He held his hand out but quickly pulled it back. "It's actually warm."
"That's just the lighting," Amalina said too quickly.
Thomas arched a brow. "Is it?"
---
Amelia stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of the frame. As she did, a flash of memory jolted through her—Amalina laughing, holding the glowing painting in a darkened room. "It's a doorway," Amalina had said in the vision, her voice echoing.
"Amelia?" Thomas's voice pulled her back.
"I… I don't know," she murmured. "It feels familiar, but I've never seen it before."
"That's impossible," Amalina said, her tone almost defensive.
Thomas turned to Amalina, his expression sharp. "What do these symbols mean?" He pointed to faint sigils hidden in the corners of several paintings.
Amalina frowned. "What symbols?"
"These." Thomas leaned in, tracing one of the markings. "They look like temporal markers. I've seen something like this before."
Amalina laughed nervously. "They're just… brushstrokes. Nothing more."
Thomas wasn't convinced. "Are they?"
---
Amelia studied Amalina closely. "You don't know why your paintings feel strange, do you?"
Amalina hesitated, her smile faltering. "No. I mean, I don't think so. They just… come to me. I paint what I see in my mind."
"And the glowing one?" Amelia pressed.
Amalina's hesitation was longer this time. "It's just a painting, Amelia. Nothing more."
Thomas narrowed his eyes. "You're lying."
"I'm not!" Amalina snapped, but the defensive edge in her voice betrayed her. "Look, I don't know what's going on any more than you do."
---
As the conversation grew tense, Thomas shifted tactics. "Okay, Amalina. Let me ask you something simple. Who was the first president of the United States?"
Amalina blinked, caught off guard. "What kind of question is that?"
"Just answer it."
"George Washington," she said, rolling her eyes.
"And what year did he take office?"
Her eyes darted away briefly. "1789… I think?"
Thomas crossed his arms. "You're not sure?"
"Who remembers dates like that?" Amalina shot back, a hint of irritation in her voice.
Thomas didn't press further but exchanged a glance with Amelia.
---
They left the apartment a short while later, the glowing painting still burning in Amelia's mind.
As they walked down the street, Thomas broke the silence. "She knows more than she's letting on."
Amelia clutched her coat tighter. "You don't know that."
"Yes, I do," Thomas said firmly. "That painting, those symbols—none of this is normal. And did you see the way she hesitated? She's hiding something."
Amelia didn't respond, but deep down, she knew he was right. Something about Amalina—and her art—was far from ordinary.
.
…
.
"Time doesn't break; it shatters. And each shard tells a different story."
---
Dr. Syed's office was unlike any place Amelia had ever been. The room was cluttered with shelves of ancient books, maps, and strange artifacts that looked like they belonged in a museum. A massive astrolabe dominated one corner, its brass rings gleaming under the dim light.
"Dr. Syed?" Amelia called hesitantly.
A man with wild gray hair and glasses perched on his nose appeared from behind a towering stack of books. He looked more like a mad scientist than a historian. "Ah, you must be the anomaly chasers."
Thomas stiffened. "How did you—"
"Please, Mr. Time-Traveler, don't insult me. I've been studying temporal disruptions for decades." Dr. Syed waved dismissively, then motioned them to sit. "Now, what brings you here?"
Amelia and Thomas exchanged a glance before Amelia spoke. "We've come about a woman. Amalina. She's—"
"An anchor," Dr. Syed interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact.
Amelia blinked. "An anchor?"
"Yes, yes." He rummaged through a pile of papers until he pulled out a worn journal. "Anchors are rare. They exist at the nexus of temporal fractures, stabilizing broken timelines—at least, in theory."
"And in practice?" Thomas asked.
Dr. Syed's face darkened. "In practice, they can just as easily cause the fractures to widen, unraveling reality altogether."
---
Amelia leaned forward. "You think Amalina is one of these anchors?"
"Her paintings," Dr. Syed said, flipping through his journal, "they're not just art. They're fragments of time itself—pieces of the shattered timeline bleeding through her subconscious."
"That explains the glowing canvas," Thomas muttered, more to himself.
Dr. Syed continued, "If the anomalies persist, the timeline may collapse entirely, dragging everything into chaos."
Amelia's breath hitched. "What do we do?"
"Resolve the anomaly." Dr. Syed's voice was firm. "Find the source of the fracture and stabilize it. If you can't…" He didn't finish the sentence, but the weight of his words hung in the air.
"What happens if we fail?" Thomas pressed.
Dr. Syed looked directly at him, his expression grim. "Failure isn't an option. Reality doesn't survive failure."
---
As the historian continued, he pulled out a parchment filled with cryptic writings. The text was in an ancient language, but the accompanying sketches were haunting—figures surrounded by swirling energy, their eyes glowing like Amalina's painting.
"These writings describe anchors," Dr. Syed explained. "They act as conduits for time's energy. But there's a catch: an anchor's stability depends on their connection to the original timeline."
Amelia frowned. "What does that mean for Amalina?"
Dr. Syed sighed. "If she's truly an anchor, she's both the key to stabilizing the timeline and its greatest risk. If her connection to the original timeline is severed…" He let the sentence trail off, leaving the implication clear.
Thomas leaned back, crossing his arms. "She's hiding something. I'm sure of it. We need to figure out what."
Dr. Syed nodded. "Be careful. If she's aware of her role, she might not even understand the full extent of her power—or the danger she poses."