*Luca*
We return to the small stone cottage where Samira and Tomas’s abuelo live. Samira moves quietly, offering us blankets and fresh tea, but I barely notice. My thoughts churn like a storm beneath the calm surface.
Ava sits near the fire, her fingers wrapped tightly around her cup. She looks tired, but there’s a strange light in her eyes, a mix of hope and fear that mirrors the turmoil inside me. The truth she shared today, that she is from another time, a future I can’t fathom, hangs between us, thick and unspoken now.
I want to believe her, and part of me does. She spoke with such conviction, such certainty. She knows things about the world and history that no one here could possibly know. The name Cristóbal Colón slipped from her lips with a gravity I can’t ignore. And that messag
