Hargrove's Warning

As the late-afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the estate, Professor Hargrove made his entrance. His typically unkempt look was overshadowed by a serious expression that spoke volumes. Amara observed from the top of the staircase as James greeted him with a formal and somewhat cold demeanor. "We need to talk right away," Hargrove insisted, his eyes darting around anxiously. "In private." James nodded and led him into the drawing room. The door clicked shut with a definitive sound, but Amara's curiosity kept her rooted in place. She edged closer, pressing against the wall by the door, straining to catch every word.

Inside, Hargrove's voice was low yet filled with urgency. "The artifact is throwing everything off balance, Harrington. Its energy is seeping into this timeline, and her presence is intensifying the situation." James's voice cut through the air, laced with frustration. "She's not responsible for this. The artifact is what brought her here." "That doesn't change the fact that she's an anomaly," Hargrove shot back. "If she remains, the fallout will be disastrous—for both of you." Amara felt as if she had been struck. She stumbled back, her thoughts racing. Was her mere existence here causing chaos? Her hand instinctively moved to the satchel at her side, where the artifact lay, its faint hum now feeling ominous.

Later that evening, James discovered Amara in the library, staring blankly at an open book. The warmth he usually exuded was replaced by a palpable distance. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. James paused before answering. "I'm fine. I just need you to promise me something." Amara raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" "Stay here. Don't wander off. Not until I can sort this out," he replied, his tone sharp. The coldness in his voice stung, but she nodded, her heart weighed down by unasked questions.