The shadow twisted, as if considering her question. Then, a voice, deep and resonant, but not like the spirit that had spoken through Lucas-it was older, darker, like something from the depths of the hellish earth-echoed through the room.
"I am Ago...
As Mrs. Marques, Lucas, and Calamansi stood on the edge of the eerie cavern, the walls started pulsating while the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. A low, guttural rumble echoed through the underground chamber, growing louder and more menacing by the second. The air itself seemed to crackle with energy, thick and oppressive, as though the very space around them was warping.
"What's happening now?" Calamansi cried, her voice high with fear.
Before anyone could respond, the glowing symbols on the walls flared with blinding light, and the ground beneath them split open, swallowing them whole. The sensation of falling was instantaneous, but instead of darkness, they were plunged into a swirling vortex of light and sound. Colors and shapes blurred around them, and the air itself seemed to scream as they were pulled through time.
Mrs. Marques reached out to grab Lucas and Calamansi, her heart pounding in her chest, but the force was too strong. They were ripped from each other's grasp, spinning uncontrollably through the void.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation stopped.
Mrs. Marques hit the ground with a hard thud, the wind knocked out of her. She gasped for air, the scent of salt and gunpowder filling her lungs. Her hands touched coarse sand beneath her, and the sound of crashing waves echoed in the distance. Slowly, she lifted her head, her heart still racing, and what she saw made her blood run cold.
She was on a beach-an endless stretch of golden sand that ran into the horizon. But this was no ordinary beach. Ships, massive wooden vessels with tattered sails, dotted the coastline, and the banners they flew were unmistakable: the French fleur-de-lis and the Portuguese cross. Soldiers, their armor glinting in the harsh sunlight, clashed violently on the shore, swords flashing and muskets firing in a chaotic frenzy of
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war.
She had been transported back in time into the heart of the brutal French and Portuguese colonial wars.
"Calamansi? Lucas?" she called out desperately, but her voice was lost in the din of battle. Panic surged through her as she scanned the beach for any sign of her students. Where were they? Had they been brought here too? And if so, were they even alive?
Before she could move, a shadow loomed over her. Mrs. Marques looked up, her heart freezing in her chest. A French soldier, his uniform tattered and stained with blood, stood above her, his musket aimed directly at her head.
"You there!" he barked in rough Portuguese, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Who are you? A spy for the Portuguese?"
Her mouth went dry, her mind racing. What could she possibly say to this man who belonged to a time centuries before her own? She struggled to her feet, her hands raised in surrender.
"I-I'm not a spy," she stammered, her voice shaking. "Please, I don't belong here."
The soldier's eyes darkened, his grip on the musket tightening. "You're in the middle of a war, woman. No one belongs here unless they fight."
