The morning sun gently bathed the veranda, and New Zealand's unique breeze carried with it the fresh scents of grass and earth. Janet and Mike sat across from each other at a wooden dining table. The breakfast was simple yet quintessentially Kiwi: honeyed toast, creamy mushrooms, and crispy bacon, accompanied by two steaming cups of black tea.
Mike picked up his tea, his gaze resting on Janet over the rim of his cup. He felt a strange contradiction in their relationship—drawn closer by shared experiences, yet distant due to their vastly different worldviews.
"So, these people call themselves the 'Guardians of the Sigil'?" Mike broke the silence, his tone probing.
Janet nodded slightly, setting down her tea as her eyes drifted toward the rolling mountains in the distance. Her voice was calm but carried weight: "Yes. But they aren't guardians—they're exploiters. A friend from the Rosicrucians confirmed that their goal isn't to protect the Sigil, but to activate it and use it to control more nodes of fate."
Mike furrowed his brow, a trace of confusion in his voice. "Control nodes of fate? What does that even mean to them?"
Janet pondered for a moment before responding, "Fate nodes are points where the spiritual and material worlds intersect, influencing both individual and collective destinies. They're trying to manipulate these nodes through the Sigil to achieve some grand agenda—maybe power, or perhaps dominion over the spiritual realm itself."
Mike set his cup down and leaned forward, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Sounds like a complex financial scheme, only their currency is spiritual energy instead of money."
Janet let out a soft chuckle, her tone softening slightly. "You always frame things in ways you understand. Maybe we live in different worlds, but you're not entirely wrong—spiritual energy, or the energy of fate, is one of the most primal resources."
The tension between them eased for a moment with her laughter, but Mike didn't let his guard down. His gaze remained sharp. "That sounds reasonable, but what does this have to do with you? Why do you have to get involved? If their plans are so dangerous, shouldn't this be handled by more professional organizations?"
Janet turned her eyes back to him, her voice steady and resolute. "The Sigil doesn't belong to any organization. It's tied to everyone's fate, including yours and mine. If we choose to do nothing, the consequences could be far worse than we imagine. Besides, it responded to me—I can't pretend nothing happened."
Mike studied her quietly, trying to read more from her expression. Memories of their shared experiences flashed through his mind: their first meeting in New York, the chaotic power of the altar, and her "madness" in the spiritual realm. It was clear she carried an indescribable burden, and though he had never believed in spiritual forces, he couldn't deny how much his life had changed because of her.
"Alright," he said finally, his tone a mix of acceptance and complexity. "I don't believe in the spiritual world, and I can't see these spirits, but I believe in you. I don't understand the Sigil's meaning, but if you need me, I'll stand by your side—in my own way."
Janet's eyes flickered briefly, as though catching a glimmer of light. She spoke softly, "Your way?"
Mike's lips curled into a faint smile, his tone carrying quiet confidence. "The material world has its own rules. Information, resources, connections—these might not matter much to you, but they're what I understand. If they can help you, I'll do my best."
Janet paused, emotions welling up within her. Dependence was unfamiliar and delicate to her, but she couldn't deny that Mike's presence brought her a rare warmth and sense of support in her solitary confrontation with the spiritual realm.
"Thank you, Mike," she said at last, her voice low but sincere. "Maybe we see the world differently, but it's those differences that remind me I'm not alone."
The two shared a moment of silence, the sunlight wrapping around them as if bridging the gap between their worlds.
Closing the Distance Between Hearts
After breakfast, Janet walked to the edge of the veranda, her gaze lingering on the mist-covered lake and the undulating mountains in the distance. Mike stood behind her, hands in his pockets, quietly accompanying her.
"So much has happened recently," Janet murmured, her voice tinged with weariness. "The altar, the spirits, the Sigil, and now these so-called Guardians… Sometimes I feel like I have no control over anything."
Mike's voice came from behind her, steady and grounded. "Control was never the goal, Janet. Sometimes, the most important thing is accepting the unknown."
She turned to look at him, a question in her eyes.
A faint smile played on Mike's lips. "I grew up in the rules of the material world, but one thing applies to both worlds—there will always be someone willing to stand in the eye of the storm to seek order. I think you're that person."
Warmth spread through Janet's heart, and a small smile crept onto her lips. She nodded, her tone lighter now. "Maybe you're right."