Maya's POV
I'm staring at the mysterious note when someone pounds on my door.
"Maya!" Nefertari's voice. "Open this door immediately!"
I shove the note under my pillow and unlock the door. The High Priestess sweeps in, her white robes flowing behind her. Her face is pale and tight with worry.
"You were nearly killed today," she says without greeting. "We need to talk. Now."
"About what?"
"About why you're here. About the prophecy. About everything they're not telling you." She grabs my hand. "Come with me."
"I'm supposed to stay in my chambers—"
"Khalid's orders don't apply to me." Nefertari pulls me into the hallway. Two guards start to follow, but she waves them back. "She's under my protection. Tell the Commander if he has a problem, he can take it up with the gods."
We walk through the palace at a pace that's almost running. Nefertari doesn't speak, doesn't slow down. Her grip on my hand is tight enough to hurt.
"Where are we going?" I ask.
"The Temple of Stars. It's time you saw the truth."
My heart skips. The Temple of Stars—that's where the mysterious note said to meet at midnight. Is this a coincidence? Or is Nefertari the one who sent the note?
We exit through a side door and cross a courtyard. The temple stands separate from the palace—a smaller building made of white stone that seems to glow in the fading sunlight.
Inside, candles flicker everywhere. The air smells like incense and something else—something old and powerful that makes the hair on my arms stand up.
Nefertari leads me to a chamber at the back. The walls are covered in paintings.
And I stop breathing.
Because the paintings are of me.
Not someone who looks like me. ME. My exact face. My exact birthmark. Even my hair is the same length.
"This isn't possible," I whisper.
"These paintings are over three thousand years old," Nefertari says quietly. "Created by the first High Priestess of this temple. My ancestor."
I move closer to the wall. In one painting, I'm holding the Temporal Ankh. In another, I'm standing between two armies. In a third, I'm reaching toward a man whose face is half in shadow.
Below the paintings are symbols. I shouldn't be able to read them, but somehow I can. The words appear in my mind like I've known them my whole life:
She will come when the stars align wrong. She will carry the bridge between worlds. She will choose salvation or destruction. The fate of all time rests in her hands.
"No." I back away from the wall. "This is insane. Prophecies aren't real. Time travel isn't real. This whole thing is—"
"Real?" Khalid's voice cuts through my panic. He's standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "Nothing about this is real. It's fairy tales and manipulation."
"Commander," Nefertari says sharply. "You weren't invited."
"I go where my responsibility goes." His dark eyes fix on me. "And right now, my responsibility is having her head filled with dangerous nonsense."
"Dangerous nonsense?" Nefertari's voice rises. "These prophecies have guided our people for millennia! They predicted the Great Flood, the War of the Seven Kingdoms, the—"
"Vague predictions that people twisted to fit whatever happened afterward." Khalid steps into the chamber. "I've studied these prophecies, Priestess. They're carefully worded to mean anything. Or nothing."
"Then explain her face on these walls!" Nefertari gestures at the paintings. "Explain how artists three thousand years ago knew exactly what she would look like!"
"I can't. But that doesn't mean I'm going to believe in destiny and fate and—" He stops, his jaw tight. "I've seen too many good soldiers die because they believed a prophecy said they were invincible. I've watched kingdoms fall because leaders made stupid decisions based on mystical predictions." His eyes meet mine. "Prophecies get people killed."
"Is that what happened to your sister?" Nefertari asks softly.
Khalid's expression turns to stone. "Leave my sister out of this."
"She believed in the prophecies too. She thought her gift made her—"
"I said leave it!" His shout echoes off the temple walls.
Silence falls, thick and uncomfortable.
I look between them, my mind racing. Khalid had a sister. Something happened to her because of prophecies. That's why he hates this so much—it's personal.
"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "About your sister."
Khalid's eyes snap to me. For a second, I see pain there. Raw and deep. Then it's gone, replaced by his usual cold mask.
"My sister's death taught me a valuable lesson," he says. "Don't trust in destiny. Don't believe the universe has a plan. Fight for what you can control, and let the rest burn."
"That's a terrible way to live," I tell him.
"It's kept me alive."
Nefertari moves to stand beside me. "Whether you believe or not, Commander, the facts remain. Maya appeared exactly as the prophecy predicted. She carries the Temporal Ankh. She bears the star mark. And the Great Shattering begins in less than six months."
My stomach drops. "Six months? You didn't mention a deadline!"
"I'm mentioning it now." Nefertari's face is grave. "In six months, three armies will converge on the capital. If we don't stop them, the Empire falls. Our entire civilization will be erased from history."
"And you think I can stop three armies?" My voice comes out too high. "I'm an archaeologist! I study dead civilizations—I don't save them!"
"You can." Nefertari touches one of the paintings—the one showing me between two armies. "Because you're not just from our future. You're from our past. You're descended from—"
"Don't," Khalid interrupts. "Don't tell her that part yet."
"She has a right to know!"
"She has a right to not be overwhelmed by information that might not even be true!" He turns to me. "Go back to your chambers. Get some rest. Tomorrow's training will be even harder than today."
"I'm not leaving until someone tells me the truth!" I plant my feet. "What am I descended from? Why can I read these symbols? Why does the ankh work for me and no one else?"
Nefertari and Khalid exchange a look.
"Tell her," Khalid finally says. "If you're so determined to burden her with destiny, at least give her all the facts."
Nefertari takes a deep breath. "The first High Priestess—the one who painted these prophecies—was named Mayara. She created the Temporal Ankh as a bridge across time. But using it required a sacrifice. She poured her own life force into the artifact, which meant only her direct descendants could activate it."
My knees feel weak. "You're saying I'm related to her?"
"Not just related. You're her direct descendant through an unbroken bloodline that spans three thousand years." Nefertari's eyes are intense. "Your parents didn't die in a random accident, Maya. They were murdered because of who you are. Because of what you carry in your blood."
The world tilts.
My parents. Murdered. Not an accident.
"No," I whisper. "No, that's not—the police said it was a drunk driver—"
"The police were lied to. Just like you were." Nefertari pulls out a small leather pouch and hands it to me. "Your mother left this with our order before she died. She knew they were coming for her. She wanted you to have it when you were ready."
My hands shake as I open the pouch. Inside is a letter, yellowed with age, and a photograph.
The photograph shows my mother—younger than I remember her, maybe in her twenties—standing in front of this exact temple. She's wearing the same white robes as Nefertari.
My mother was a priestess.
I unfold the letter. My mother's handwriting—I'd recognize it anywhere.
My dearest Maya,
If you're reading this, then I'm gone, and you've found your way to the truth. I'm so sorry we couldn't tell you sooner. We thought keeping you ignorant would keep you safe. We were wrong.
You are special, my darling. More special than you know. The blood of ancient priestesses runs through your veins. The power to bridge time itself is your birthright. But power always comes with a price.
They'll tell you the prophecy says you must save the Empire. They'll tell you that you have no choice. But you always have a choice, Maya. Always.
Choose yourself. Choose your own path. Don't let anyone—not prophecies, not priests, not even your own blood—tell you who you must be.
I love you more than time itself.
—Mom
Tears blur my vision. I can barely breathe.
My mother knew. She knew everything. And she died trying to protect me from it.
"I need air," I gasp, stumbling toward the door.
Khalid catches my arm. "Maya—"
"Don't touch me!" I pull away. "Just—I need to be alone!"
I run from the temple, ignoring Nefertari calling after me. I run through the courtyard, past confused guards, back to my chambers.
I slam the door and lock it, then collapse against it, the letter clutched to my chest.
Everything I thought I knew is a lie.
My parents' death wasn't random. My whole life was building toward this moment. I was literally bred to fulfill this prophecy.
I'm not Maya Hartwell, archaeologist.
I'm Maya Hartwell, destiny's prisoner.
I don't know how long I sit there crying. Hours, maybe. Until my tears run dry and I'm left feeling hollow and empty.
That's when I remember the note hidden under my pillow.
I pull it out and read it again: Meet me at the Temple of Stars at midnight if you want to know the truth.
The clock shows 11:45 PM.
I've already been to the temple. Already learned one horrible truth. What more could there be?
But then I notice something I missed before. In the corner of the note, there's a tiny symbol—the same symbol that was on my mother's letter.
My mother's symbol.
Whoever sent this note knew my mother.
I make my decision.
I grab a dark cloak from the wardrobe and pull it on. I crack my door open. The guards are there, but they're facing away, focused on the hallway.
I slip out silently, staying in the shadows. My mother's letter mentioned a servant's passage behind the tapestry in my room. I find it exactly where she described.
The passage is dark and narrow, but it leads outside.
I emerge near the temple just as the clock strikes midnight.
The temple is dark now. No candles. No Nefertari. No one.
"Hello?" I call softly.
No answer.
Maybe I'm too late. Maybe this was a trap after all.
I turn to leave—
—and a hand clamps over my mouth from behind.
"Don't scream," a man's voice whispers. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to tell you the truth about Commander Khalid."
My heart hammers. I try to pull away, but his grip is too strong.
"He's not who you think he is, Maya. He's not even fully human." The voice pauses. "He's half-Atlantean. And the reason his sister died? She discovered what he really is. So he killed her to keep his secret safe."
He releases me and steps back into the shadows.
I spin around, but I can only see his outline.
"That's a lie," I say, but my voice wavers. "Khalid wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't he? Ask yourself why the most skilled warrior in the Empire moves faster than humanly possible. Why his wounds heal overnight. Why he never gets tired." The shadow moves closer. "Ask yourself why he really doesn't want you investigating the prophecy. It's not because he doesn't believe in it. It's because the prophecy predicted his secret would be exposed."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who knows what it's like to be used by people claiming to protect you." The shadow tosses something at my feet. "That's proof. Read it. Then decide who you can really trust."
Footsteps. Running away. Gone.
I pick up what he threw—another letter, sealed with wax.
I break the seal with trembling fingers and read by moonlight:
Official Report: Death of Khalida ibn Rashid, age 19, sister of Commander Khalid ibn Rashid. Cause of death: Unknown magical discharge. Witness reports suggest family argument preceded incident. Commander Khalid was last person seen with deceased. Investigation closed by Pharaoh's order.
My blood runs cold.
Khalid was the last person with his sister when she died.
And the Pharaoh closed the investigation.
"Maya?" Khalid's voice, from somewhere in the darkness. "What are you doing out here?"
I shove the letter into my cloak and turn.
Khalid stands twenty feet away, his sword drawn. His eyes glow slightly in the moonlight—an unnatural silver color I've never noticed before.
"I asked you a question," he says, stepping closer. "What are you doing at the temple at midnight?"
Looking at him now—really looking—I see it. The way he moves is too fluid, too perfect. The way his eyes catch the light wrong. The way he's never out of breath, never shows pain.
He's not fully human.
And he's been lying to me this whole time.
"I could ask you the same thing," I say, backing away. "Why are you following me?"
"Because three assassins tried to kill you today, and now you're wandering around alone in the dark." His eyes narrow. "Who were you meeting?"
"No one."
"Don't lie to me."
"Like you've been lying to me?" The words burst out before I can stop them. "About what you really are?"
Khalid freezes. His expression goes completely blank.
"What did you just say?"
I should stop. Should back down. But I'm so tired of being lied to, manipulated, and used.
"I know your secret," I tell him. "I know what you are. And I know what you did to your sister."
For three heartbeats, neither of us moves.
Then Khalid's sword is at my throat so fast I don't even see him move.
His eyes are fully silver now, glowing with inhuman light.
"Who told you?" His voice is deadly quiet. "Who?"
I can't speak. Can't breathe. The blade is pressing against my skin.
"Answer me!" The sword presses harder. "Who told you about my sister?"
"Someone who knows the truth," I manage to choke out.
"The truth? You don't know anything about the truth!" His hand is shaking—with rage or something else, I can't tell. "My sister died because of people like you. People who stick their noses where they don't belong. People who trust the wrong sources."
"Then tell me the real story!"
"Why should I trust you?" His eyes bore into mine. "You've been here two days and you're already sneaking around, meeting mysterious strangers, believing lies about me. Give me one reason why I shouldn't end this right now."
"Because I'm your responsibility," I whisper. "The Pharaoh ordered you to protect me. And you don't break oaths."
We stare at each other, the sword still at my throat.
Then slowly—so slowly—Khalid lowers the blade.
"You're right. I don't break oaths." He sheathes the sword. "But that doesn't mean I have to trust you. Or tell you my secrets."
He grabs my arm and starts dragging me back toward the palace.
"Let go of me!"
"Not a chance. You're going back to your chambers, and this time I'm posting guards inside your room. No more midnight adventures."
"You can't keep me prisoner!"
"Watch me."
We're almost at the palace when alarms start blaring throughout the city.
Khalid stops, his head snapping up. "No. Not now."
"What's happening?"
His face has gone pale. "The enemy. They're attacking the northern border." He looks at me, and for the first time, I see genuine fear in his eyes. "The Great Shattering. It's begun."