NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM...II

She met Anna later that night, sitting in her bedroom, drawing in her notebook. "Hey, kiddo. Can I come in?"

Anna looked up. "Sure."

Kallen sat on the side of her bed. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Your mother and I… we're going on a trip. To Africa."

Anna's face fell. "For how long?"

Kallen paused. "A few days. Maybe a week. But it's important. We're trying to learn more about the statue." She looked up at Anna.

Anna gazed at her sketchbook. "Oh."

Kallen leaned forward, angling her chin up, "Hey. I know it's not fair. And I apologize. But I promise you, when we get back, we'll spend the whole weekend together. You and me, by ourselves. No work, no research. Just… us."

Anna's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Kallen smiled. "Really. And maybe we'll even paint together. Ceiling too."

Anna giggled. "Deal."

Left alone at the museum with Professor John, Anna spent her days wandering the labyrinth of exhibits. In their second night together, they stood before an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. John adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, his voice soft but firm. "Notice the hieroglyphs here, Anna. They are tales of rebirth—cycles of endings and beginnings. Isn't it interesting?"

Anna trailed the carvings with her eyes. "It's as if they thought people would still be interested in their stories after all these years."

"Absolutely." John's eyes glinted. "That is the beauty of history. It murmurs in our ears, and we cannot help but listen."

Anna paused, then exclaimed, "Professor… have you gone to the archangel statue?"

John paused, regarding her with a concerned frown. "I have. Why do you ask?"

"It. calls to me. As if it's a part of me. Is that crazy?"

Rather than brushing her off, John knelt to eye level, his voice sincere. "When I was your age, I found a Roman coin in my granny's garden. It was rusty and barely legible, but I had this. Pull. I cleaned it all night long, thinking it was full of secrets. As it happens, it was just a normal coin—good for nothing to anyone. But to me?" He smiled. "It was a portal. A way of imagining the hands it had passed through, the lives it had touched, I suppose. So no, Anna. Feeling a connection isn't madness. It's curiosity—the throb of a good 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 interred at sea? Why do you bear its weight in your bones?" He touched her shoulder. "Answers begin with questions, Anna. Let's find yours tomorrow. We'll analyze the statue together—measurements, materials, every detail. But tonight," he struck the sarcophagus, "let's finish transcribing this story. The pharaoh here claims he spoke with crocodiles. I suspect he was deceiving."

Anna laughed, the strain dissolving. "Or maybe the crocodiles deceived him."

"A scholar after my own heart," said John, his face creasing into a smile. "Now, take my notebook. Let's be detectives."

" yes"

**Later That Night**

Anna lay on her improvised bed in the guesthouse of the museum, looking up. Professor John's words echoed in her mind: "Answers begin with curiosity." The metal wings of the statue shone in her eyes, and hieroglyphic pharaohs and crocodiles melted into the serene face of the archangel.

She rolled and flung the sheets around her ankles. Finally, she crawled out of the bed, her bare feet making barely audible contact with the cold marble floor. The museum was quiet with the distant buzz of security cameras.

Anna crept silently down the darkened galleries, her breath fogging the air. Moonlight streamed through the skylights, sending silver strips over the statue of the archangel. Its wings glowed softly as if starlight was within them.

"You're just a statue," she whispered, but her voice was shaking. She laid her hand against him, her fingertips skating across the cool, smooth surface.

A jolt of power coursed through her arm. The room spun, colors merging into a whirlpool of gold and blue. Anna's legs buckled, and she collapsed, her sight dissolving into blackness.

Anna was in a field, the air thick with the smell of wildflowers. A girl sat on the edge of a cliff, her back to Anna, looking out at five weathered tombstones. The girl's black hair reached to the shoulders, and her violet eyes—Anna's eyes—were full of unshed tears.

"Who are you?" Anna asked, walking up.

The girl spun around her older, harder face unmistakably Anna's. "I'm what you'll be. If you fail."

"Fail at what?"

She gestured toward the graves. "Protecting them."

The ground shook before Anna could ask questions. The meadow was shattered, transformed into a ravaged city. Dragons leveled the horizon, and stone golems stamped buildings into rubble with their fists. Older Anna, white hair as ash, ran into battle, radiating sword held in hand. She cut through the destruction, slicing down beasts with impossible loveliness.

"This is your battle as well," the warrior shouted over the roar of flames. "The statue is the key. Uncover its truth—our truth—before it's too late!"

Anna bolted upright with a gasp, her forehead throbbing, her nightgown clinging to her wet skin. Professor John knelt beside her, a flashlight in one hand and a first-aid kit in the other.

"Anna! What were you doing here?" His tone was firm with worry.

"I saw her," Anna panted, grasping 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 groaned, rubbing his temples. "Anna, you've had a dream. A vivid one, I'll admit, but just a dream. You've been under a lot of stress—new displays, your parents away."

"But I felt it!" Anna cried, her voice rising. "The statue shocked me when I touched it!"

John swept the flashlight over the statue's even face. "No burn marks, no powder. See? Absolutely inert." He was gentler in tone. "You're a clever girl, but even clever heads play tricks when they're extremely tired. Let's get you into bed."

Anna scowled. "You don't believe me."

"I believe you're exhausted," John said firmly, helping her stand. "And that your mind is as vivid as your sense of wonder. Tomorrow, we'll return to the statue during the day, with the proper equipment. No more midnight adventures, okay?"

Going back, Anna glanced over her shoulder at the archangel. Its wings glowed faintly, almost jeeringly.

"It wasn't a dream," she muttered.

John chuckled. "When I was your age, I wanted to breathe underwater. Woke up sure I'd be sprouting gills. Ended up having just eaten a large quantity of gummy worms before bed."

Anna crossed her arms. "It's not the same."

"Maybe," John said, his hand on her shoulder. "Or maybe your brain's correlating worry with that Egyptian tomb story we over-interpreted. Crocodile-speaking pharaohs, ring a bell?"

Anna didn't laugh. The warrior's warning still reverberated within her mind, sharp and compelling. But rounding the corner, the statue came out of sight, leaving in her mind only the ringing of its metal wings.