Windham’s pace quickened as he led Rebecca deeper into the estate. They passed through arched stone corridors lined with glass cases, each displaying something that felt out of place among the rest. A jade pharaoh’s mask sat beside a Polaroid of the moon landing, along with a cracked clay tablet faintly emitting light and a Roman gladius etched with delicate circuitry.
She slowed more than once, drawn in despite herself. Windham said nothing, only waited in patient silence. At last, they reached a set of tall wooden doors adorned with black iron. Upon them were engraved words in several languages, including Greek, Cyrillic, and Latin.
Windham knocked twice sharply on the polished surface.
“Send her in,” came a crisp voice from within.
Windham opened the door. Rebecca hesitated for a second before stepping inside.
The room was circular and bright with natural light pouring through tall arched windows. Marble floors reflected the sunlight in soft golden tones. The air smelled faintly of rain and incense.
A woman stood at the center of the room behind a large, ornate desk. Tall and ageless, with sharply cut silver hair, she wore an elegant white blouse with a high collar and a tailored charcoal gray suit. Her eyes fixed on Rebecca the moment she stepped inside.
“Ms. Stadler,” she said. “You kept me waiting.”
“I’m… I’m sorry, I was…” Rebecca gestured vaguely. “I got distracted by the exhibits and amazing art.”
“Ah, yes. I can certainly understand. I’ve spent a good part of my life doing just that. No matter, such is the nature of fate,” the woman replied, motioning toward the single leather chair across from the desk. “It doesn’t wait for you to be ready; it arrives.”
Rebecca sat stiffly in the high-backed chair. She clutched her bag in her lap as she studied the older woman across from her. “I assume you are Professor Stone?”
“Stone,” she repeated. “Such a blunt little name, isn’t it? Useful, though.”
Rebecca tilted her head. “Have you had others?” She winced. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“No need for apologies,” the woman said with a light laugh that warmed her face. “I’ve been called many things, some titles long gone, others have clung to me for ages. For now, please call me Elsie.”
Rebecca shifted restlessly. As expected, this interview was already a little odd. She forced a dry chuckle, hoping to sound casual. “Dr. Stone—Elsie, you talk like you’re ancient,” she quipped, arching a brow. “But if you’ll forgive me, you’re a long way from needing a senior discount.”
Elsie twitched once, then, unexpectedly, she laughed. “Thank you for your kindness,” she said, and for a moment, Rebecca relaxed a little.
Elsie’s hand moved slowly across the table, tracing a lazy circle on the wood. “Tell me,” she said, “what are your thoughts on the supernatural?”
“I’m sorry?” The question caught Rebecca off guard. “That’s not a typical interview question.”
“No,” Elsie agreed. “It isn’t.”
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I’ve seen things I can’t explain, but I don’t go looking for them.”
Elsie gave her a small smile. “Wise,” she murmured. “For the unprepared mind, those who go looking rarely like what they find.”
Her fingers paused. “We study what others dismiss as myth, examining the line between science and belief.”
Rebecca carefully chose her words, aiming to steer the interview back to familiar territory. “I see… well, I appreciate this opportunity. I’d really like to be considered for a position on your financial team. I assume the Oracle Group is looking for a junior planner with expertise in current methods and technology?”
She reached into her bag and slid her résumé across the desk. Elsie glanced at the paper, then let out a sharp, amused laugh. “Financial planning? Child, my people invented mathematics. We codified trade before your ancestors learned to count their sheep.”
Rebecca blinked. Confusion gave way to irritation. “I—sorry, I don’t understand,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “The invitation, Windham and Alex, all led me to believe this was a job interview. My background and my actual expertise are in finance. If that’s not the case, why am I here?”
Elsie’s expression softened. “Forgive me. This is an interview, and I didn’t intend to diminish your achievements.”
She held up the résumé. “But finance is no longer your path.”
Rebecca’s anger was rising. Why were they wasting her time when she was barely keeping her life together as it was?
The words came out clipped when she responded, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but if this interview isn’t about a job, why have you dragged me halfway across the world? Surely not to tell me you know what my path is supposed to be?”
A mischievous glint appeared on Elsie’s face. “Isn’t that what you wanted to know?” Her tone shifted into an uncanny imitation of Rebecca’s own voice. “So, Miss Creepy,” she said lightly, “you gonna tell me my future?”
Rebecca froze, and the blood drained from her face. “How—? What—?” Her voice trembled despite her effort to steady it. “I was alone when…” Her gaze darted around the room. “Are you spying on me?”
She let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Hidden cameras? Seriously?”
“Who are you and what is this place, really?” she demanded, barely holding herself together.
“I am a seer,” Elsie said.
Rebecca stopped. “A what?”
Elsie studied her like she’d confirmed something interesting. “A seer,” she repeated. “People used to travel great distances to ask me questions like that.”
Rebecca folded her arms. “Yeah? And did you offer them a job too?”
A flicker of amusement crossed Elsie’s face. “No,” she said. “I offered them honesty. That was usually enough to drive them away.”
Rebecca huffed, but it came out thinner than intended. “Okay. Great. Fantastic. So, I’ve been flown halfway across the world by a psychic.”
“Not a psychic.”
“Right. Sorry. A seer.” She made a vague gesture. “Totally different.”
Elsie smiled faintly. “Very.”
The nape of Rebecca’s neck prickled. Her mind flashed back to the statue in the courtyard. Then she sifted through fragments of history lectures, half-forgotten myths, and images from her art classes. Statues of priestesses, inscriptions barely remembered and then a name clicked into place, pulled from her subconscious.
Her voice was barely audible. “Pythia?”
Elsie’s laughter was soft. “Ah. At last.”
Rebecca’s mind rebelled at the insanity of this whole misadventure. She needed to leave, calmly and politely, and as quickly as possible.
“You think you’re the… the Oracle of Delphi?”
Elsie inclined her head with graceful dignity. “These days, I prefer ‘Elsie.’ Easier to fit on paperwork and less intimidating at dinner parties.”
Rebecca didn’t laugh. Oh God, this is a cult.
Her head shook slowly. “Right. Okay. So let me get this straight. You’re telling me you’re the Oracle of Delphi?” she said, incredulous. “You realize that’s mythology. Ancient Greek. Over a thousand years B.C. mythology.”
Elsie didn’t argue. She folded her hands neatly on the polished table. “Stories become myths when people live long enough to forget the truth.”
Her gaze fixed on Rebecca. “But we’re not here to talk about who I am. We’re here to talk about you, and who you might become.”
Rebecca stepped back toward the door, sweat running down her neck. “I think you have the wrong girl,” she said, forcing her words out evenly. “I appreciate the hospitality, truly. But I’d like to go home now.”
“Of course,” Elsie said gently. “You’re free to leave whenever you wish.”
Rebecca hesitated despite herself, half expecting to be restrained or threatened. Instead, the woman in front of her simply studied her, giving her the sensation of being weighed and measured.
Elsie inclined her head toward the chair Rebecca had abandoned. “All I ask is that you hear me out. One conversation. After that, the choice is entirely yours.”
Rebecca exhaled hard and dragged a hand through her hair. “Alright. Fine. I feel like I owe you that much for the first-class treatment, but let’s just—skip to the part where you explain why I’m here.”
She flopped back down. “Not like I have anywhere else to be,” she admitted, then more softly, “And sorry about the ‘Miss Creepy’ thing.”
Elsie waved it off with a flick of her hand. “No offense taken. One should never be offended by the truth.” A faint glint touched her expression. “Besides, I rather enjoy being creepy now and then.”
Rebecca laughed. “So you think you can really see my future?”
Elsie’s smile softened. “Not your future. Your futures.”
She rose and took a speckled glass sphere from the shelf, turning it in her hand.
“We like to think of time as a line, one moment leading cleanly to the next. But it isn’t.” She held it out. “It’s this. A cloud of possibilities, all pressing outward at once.”
She stepped a little closer and tossed the glass orb to Rebecca.
“Every choice you make nudges you through that cloud,” Elsie continued. “Some paths drift apart. Others pull together until certain moments become inevitable.”
Rebecca frowned. “You’re describing probability, not fate.”
She turned the glass in her hands, watching the light shift inside it. “If that’s true, it doesn’t matter what I choose.”
“It matters more than anything,” Elsie said. “Choice decides who you become on the way there. Two paths can arrive at the same moment and produce entirely different people.”
Rebecca glanced up. “And you can see all of that?”
Elsie shook her head. “Not clearly. I don’t see the future. I see patterns in the cloud. The closer they are to the present, the sharper they become. The farther out…” She let the thought trail off.
Rebecca set the sphere on the desk. She really believes this crap.
Aloud, she said, carefully, “And you think one of those versions of me actually matters?”
Elsie’s gaze held her. “I don’t think. I know.” She set an antique wooden box adorned with Nordic runes on the table and slid it forward.
“What is it?”
“One of those convergences.”
Rebecca opened the lid and stared. Inside lay a beautiful, medieval armband. Forged from blackened steel and woven with fine gold filaments, it shimmered with a dull, ember-like glow. It featured two dragons intertwined, wings half-folded, their eyes shining with a hidden fire.
She reached for it, but stopped short. She could feel warmth radiating from it. Beneath the heat, something else stirred. An awareness.
“Okay,” she whispered. “That’s… new.”
She tried to clear her mind. This is insane, she told herself. Objects don’t have awareness. Stress, exhaustion, jet lag—any of it could explain the sensation.
Elsie placed her hands on the desk. “It’s called Sigrún’s Promise.”
Rebecca frowned. “Sigrún. That’s Norse in origin, isn’t it?”
Elsie nodded. “Yes, one of the Valkyries recorded in the old sagas. This particular relic is curious in that it has a different resonance from all the others we’ve documented. I have some… special insight into why that is and how it may have been forged.”
Rebecca’s hand continued to hover over it. “Why is it warm?”
Elsie smiled. “Because it is meant for you. It’s responding to your presence. That’s why you feel drawn to it as well.”
She didn’t answer. The urge to pick up the armband was almost impossible to resist. She forced herself to look away, breaking the spell.
“Uh-huh. Let me guess. So, you’re telling me I’m special in some way, and this priceless relic is meant only for me. No strings attached—except maybe a small monthly payment?”
Elsie’s eyes crinkled with faint amusement. “It was meant for you,” she confirmed. “And there’s no payment required, no contract to sign… and no cult to join.”
Rebecca glanced at her sheepishly.
“And what exactly am I supposed to do with it?”
Elsie dipped her chin. “Put it on.”
Rebecca stilled. “That’s it?”
“If it accepts you, it binds to you. You transform into something… more.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“It will tear you apart from the inside out.”
Rebecca realized the woman was serious. She thinks that jewelry holds some mystical power.
She let out a humorless laugh. “Okay, now we’re talking. No more of this ‘we’ll keep your résumé on file’ nonsense. If I don’t qualify for the position, I get… obliterated?”
Elsie gestured lightly toward the armband. “You’re here because you possess a singularity that will allow you to bond with the relic. Whether you decide to or not is entirely up to you.”
“You’re more than merely a candidate,” Elsie pressed. “You’ve already been called. The rage you’ve buried, the dreams you’ve been having. That’s awareness talking. Do you remember the first time you felt it? When those boys broke your sculpture? The anger that surged within you then.”
Rebecca paled as she gaped at her. “Do you mean my angel? How in the hell—”
Elsie paused for a moment before pressing on. “And later, in high school, when those two young men tried to assault you in the woods. In both cases, the intensity of your response was unlike any other temper tantrum you’ve had. Though I must admit, your latest outburst in the apartment was quite impressive.”
Gooseflesh rose on Rebecca’s arms. Nobody knew about the woods. She had spent years blaming herself, convincing herself she’d somehow invited what happened, so she’d never told anyone. She had buried it so deeply she’d almost convinced herself it had never happened.
“Who… are you?” she whispered.
Elsie said nothing.
Rebecca didn’t react at first. She just stared at Elsie, waiting for the catch. There was no way this woman could know these things.
Elsie continued, “These were glimpses of what you can summon when the situation calls for it. These memories, they’ve been waiting for you to recognize them and realize what they mean.”
Rebecca swallowed hard. The world was shifting beneath her, disbelief clashing with the undeniable truth in Elsie’s words.
“Memories of what?”
Elsie gently tapped the lid of the box. “Of the story you’re meant to carry.”
Rebecca glanced down at the armband. The warmth had deepened, almost eager.
Elsie continued, “It must be your choice. However, be aware that this is a convergence. Would you be here now if not for the inability to find a job, the boyfriend, and the eviction?”
Her mind reeled. They must have drugged her food or pumped hallucinogens into the room, if she was even considering any of this.
A quiet movement near the doorway drew Rebecca’s attention. Alex and Sasha had entered at some point during the conversation, standing silently against the wall. She jumped when Sasha spoke. “We know this is completely unbelievable.”
Alex nodded in concurrence.
Elsie smiled. “Alex and Sasha have not always been as you see them. Both have bonded with relics of their own, shaping who they are now.”
“Relics did this?” Rebecca gestured vaguely at both of them. “What were you before?”
Alex was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, the easy humor from before was gone. “I lost everything. At least everything important.” He turned a golden band on his finger.
Rebecca’s sarcasm died in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged once. “I was given a second chance, though I didn’t deserve it.”
Rebecca didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent.
“The bonding came after,” Alex went on. “I wasn’t looking for power. I was looking for a reason to continue. I found both.”
Sasha touched his arm, brief and wordless, before turning to Rebecca.
“My story’s smaller,” Sasha said. “I said goodbye to magazine covers and runways. Or rather they said goodbye to me. I was no longer the person the world knew as Sasha de Angelis. Now I know who I am.”
Rebecca blinked. “Wait—Sasha de Angelis?” Her voice rose in disbelief. “The blonde supermodel who mysteriously disappeared several years ago? I bought your makeup line, but I still looked like… this.”
Sasha chuckled, her expression calm but edged with something unreadable. “Yes. That chapter is closed and took the blonde hair with it. I know exactly how you feel. When Elsie first approached me, I thought she was either totally insane or the most talented con artist I’d ever met. It took me months to accept it.”
Alex offered a wry smile. “Believe it or not,” he added, “it is the truth.”
Rebecca’s thoughts spiraled. She stared at them both, searching for cracks, rehearsed lines, anything that would make this make sense. But all she saw was certainty. “This… this can’t be real,” she whispered, more to herself than to them.
Elsie reached out and touched her shoulder. “Impossible or not, it is,” she said. “And now you have a choice to make. Will you fulfill your potential?”
Rebecca sank back into the chair. Curiosity and fascination had carried her this far, farther than she ever expected, but now fear clawed its way to the surface. Whatever explanation existed for what Elsie knew, it had to be rational. It had to be.
Hidden cameras. Private investigators. Social media. Any explanation made more sense than ancient relics and forgotten powers.
She looked from Elsie to Alex, then Sasha, searching their faces for the slightest hint of a joke or coercion. There was nothing. Only quiet certainty.
She needed some distance. Space to breathe… to think.
She let out a sharp huff and forced a brittle smile. “Wow. That was… an incredible presentation,” she said. “Honestly, you almost had me.” She raised both hands. “You’ve all been very kind, and I don’t know what the endgame is here, but I’m not buying it. If you’re serious about what you said, then I’d like to go home. As soon as possible.”
Elsie closed her eyes briefly, then exhaled slowly. When she opened them, she looked at Alex and Sasha, a trace of regret passing between them before she turned back to Rebecca.
“As you wish,” Elsie said quietly. “I’ll have Windham drive you to the airport when you’re ready.”
She rose from her chair and stepped closer. “You are welcome to return at any time,” she continued. “Simply call the number on your invitation and leave a message. It will find me.”
Elsie hesitated, then added, “But there is one more thing you should understand. Potential does not exist in isolation. When it stirs, others notice. Not all of them are as altruistic or patient as we are.”
Rebecca stiffened.
“This isn’t an attempt to frighten you. It’s a warning,” Elsie reassured her. “Be mindful of who takes an interest in you. Trust your instincts. And if something feels wrong, don’t ignore it.”
She studied Rebecca for a long moment. “Your life is more valuable than you realize, and that is dangerous.”
Rebecca straightened, lifting her chin. “I’m a big girl,” she said, forcing a confidence she didn’t feel. “I can take care of myself.”
She moved toward the door, then paused. “Thank you,” she added, unsure who she was thanking or why.
Her eyes met Alex’s. He subtly nodded, a hint of emotion flickering behind his composed face. Sasha offered a small, knowing smile.
“Goodbye,” she said.
Alex’s voice followed her. “Be careful, Rebecca.”
Sasha nodded in agreement. “And trust your instincts.”
Rebecca gave a quick nod and turned away, retracing her steps down the long corridor to her room. The villa was different now, too quiet and too watchful. She packed her belongings with brisk efficiency and assured herself she was glad to be leaving, that this was all an elaborate mistake. Even so, the warning echoed in her mind long after the door closed behind her.
Once Rebecca was gone, the silence in the study deepened.
Sasha moved toward Elsie, her composed mask slipping enough to reveal her unease. “She’s not safe,” she said softly. “You know that. If her potential has awakened this much, it’s likely he will find her.”
Alex nodded grimly. “Then maybe one of us should keep an eye on her,” he suggested. “At least until we know she’s going to be okay.”
Elsie considered this, fingers steepled. At last, she shook her head. “No. I need you both to focus on your training and relic retrieval. What’s coming won’t wait.”
Sasha frowned. “You really think she’s that important?”
“I do,” Elsie said simply. “And I don’t believe she’s lost to us, not yet.” After a pause, she added, “We’ll send Astrid instead.”
Sasha’s eyebrows rose sharply. Alex let out a low whistle. “Astrid,” he repeated. “It’s that critical?”
Elsie met their surprised looks with one of certainty. “Yes,” she said. “Rebecca—and one other—are pivotal. Critical pieces in the conflict ahead. I believe she is the lever that could shift everything. Whether they choose us or not has the potential to alter the entire future.”