Timestone

Chapter Twenty-Nine ϟ Paradox

Vela is waiting just outside when I exit the temple in tears. We walk to the stone obelisk where our packs sit. Across from us lies the skeleton. Something suddenly occurs to me. "Vela, that's . . . my mom," I say.

She remains silent with a look of uncertainty—because how do you respond to something like that?

I walk to the remains.

My mom had been communicating with me from a hundred Earth years in the past. Before our connection ended, I sensed her weakness—not just mentally, but physically also. She traveled from the cliff to this temple on foot—no wonder she seemed weak. She must not have carried enough food or had enough strength for the return journey. I stand there for a while, wishing for a better way to honor her for everything. I silently vow to return someday to give her a proper burial.

Vela and I sit side by side against an obelisk. I recount all the new information I've learned. I explain how Tanek wiped her great-great-grandparents' minds and stole their memories, just as he had done to me.

My voice breaks as I tell her how my brother betrayed my mom and her team. They might have ended Tanek's rule long ago if not for him. It pains me to reflect on how much suffering can be caused by the actions of a single person. Vela reminds me that just as one person has the potential to cause great suffering, that equally, a single person has the power to bring about much good. I love her optimistic outlook on life. I don't just love it. I need it—especially now.

She enjoys hearing me talk about my dad—or at least the little I learned about him, like how he loved working with new technology and always set his sights high.

She looks at me with a smile. "You know . . . you're a lot like him."

"Yeah?" I ask.

"Yes. Your dad reminds me of you—how excited you were about the printer. And your courage to take on anything, like ascending the mountain and coming out here to find this place."

I hadn't thought of it like that. Maybe Vela's right—perhaps I am like him. I smile at the thought. I wish I could remember him—from my own memories.

Vela has a faraway look in her eye, like she's lost in thought. Then she returns her gaze to me. "Something has been bothering me. Why would Kumar not tell my dad about any of this?"

Her question gives me pause. Has Kumar been concealing information from Marco this whole time? Is he a double agent who is still loyal to Tanek? Then I realize. "I don't think Kumar knows," I say. "Do you remember when your dad explained how Kumar couldn't access the upper levels of the compound?"

Vela nods.

"He's never been on top of the cliff," I say. "I'd bet many of Tanek's loyal supporters don't know about any of this."

Now, Vela looks hurt and confused. "Why would Tanek do all of this? What's the point?"

"The time engine," I say.

"What do you mean?"

I had told Vela about the time engine on earlier occasions. Now, I explain my mom's theory of how he plans to use it to escape Tempus.

But Vela interrupts in a panic. "How long have we been gone? I mean, how much time has it been for my dad?" It's just occurred to her, and now me, that we've been gone a lot longer than a day from Marco's perception of time.

I take a second to estimate how many hours have passed since we teleported to the top of the cliff. It feels like seven or eight. So, seventy hours for Marco, maybe more. "Like three days," I grimace.

"We need to get back," Vela demands in her non-negotiable tone.

I'm not about to question her. I nod my head and grab my pack.

"But first . . ." Vela says hesitantly. "I want a turn."

I look at her, confused.

"I want to go inside the temple," she says.

I explain to Vela how to focus her thoughts. She wants to connect with her mom like I did with mine. I can't argue against that.

Vela enters. The archway closes. I count the seconds silently, knowing I won't have to wait long. When I hit two hundred, I start to worry. Is she having trouble making it work? As more seconds pass, I grow increasingly concerned. What if she isn't compatible with the temple technology like my mom and me? Maybe something awful happened to her.

I slap my hands along the smooth surface of the dome in a desperate attempt to open it. Nothing happens. But then, after a panicked moment, the temple begins to rumble. The archway opens. Relief fills me when I see Vela standing on the other side. She wears an expression of sadness, pain, confusion, and utter exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

She stumbles to a pillar, slumps down, and cradles her head. Her voice cracks and turns into sobbing. "I don't know what happened." She pauses for a second or two. "I made contact with my mom." She looks at me with tear-filled eyes. "I focused on the day she died. I wanted to send her a message—to tell her not to go through with Tanek's assassination."

"And?" I prod.

"And . . . I think it worked," she says. "My mind made contact with hers. I forced a single thought into her mind: Don't do it! Then, the connection broke. I tried again. This time, she stood just moments away from killing him. I sensed her nervousness—the adrenaline pumping through her. I screamed at her with my thoughts again. I pushed the thought a third time. Do not kill him."

Vela wipes her tears.

I wait silently, wanting her to take as much time as needed to gather herself.

"I'm not quite sure what happened next," she continues. "My soul felt as if it ripped into two. My mind flooded with brand-new memories. It felt strange. I could remember a life where my mom didn't die. I felt so happy. I wanted to run all the way back to my cavern just to hug her. But then a pain like I never felt before hit me. It felt like my body and mind were being pressed so tightly. I thought I would die. Then, the next thing I knew, I was waking up. All the new memories of my mom felt like a far-away dream. The harder I tried to remember, the faster they slipped away."

We stare at each other.

"Do you think it was real?" she asks.

My mom told me about paradoxes and how the universe wouldn't allow them. It sounds like Vela just encountered one. She just experienced the snapping back of the rope that my mom described. She tried to change the past and failed.

I explain to Vela what my mom taught me—that changing the past can be impossible or extremely dangerous. She admits she doesn't regret what she did. She feels as if she gave her mom the life she never had—wrapped in a single instant of time.

There were times when I felt jealous of Vela because she had a family that loved her. I didn't think I would ever know what that felt like. I'm not sure why, but it never occurred to me that Vela grew up with similar feelings of loss and sadness that I thought were unique to me.

"Are you okay?" I ask Vela. "You don't look well." She looks worse now than when she exited the temple.

"I'm fine," she mutters just as her eyes rollback into her sockets.