I stared at the computer screen, tracing the outline of the crude drawing. I couldn’t help wondering where it had come from. Who had drawn it? ‘Origin Point’ read harsh and bold against the white background of the file. The neat, professional font of the inventory software seemed stark in comparison to the smudged lines of the drawing. The nutcracker wasn’t missing. It was now one of the most viewed items in the building.
I closed the program, my heart hammering against the Temporal Key now housed in my chest. The key was safe, but the nutcracker was a beacon trapped in a glass case. I had to find a way to get without causing suspicion.
I spent the next hour working purely on instinct. I avoided all contact with colleagues, immersing myself in my normal tasks. My mind kept going back t
