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“Amrita left this with me before she disappeared. She asked me to hold it for you until Samhain, and not to open it. Those were her exact instructions.” He smoothed the edge of the paper once, unnecessarily. “And now… It’s Samhain.”

The room went quiet.

Maida was cagily looking at the parcel, simultaneously excited and afraid of what might be inside.

Will picked it up and sniffed it. He looked at Arthur.

“This was the package I brought to you before the mission. The one you signed for?”

“The same,” Arthur confirmed.

“And you never said anything?” Will frowned.

“I had my instructions.” Arthur folded his hands together. “Are you going to open it now or what?”

Will turned the package back over and handed it to Zani. “I leave this you, Z. You’re the specialist when it comes to relics, and whatever’s in this package smells very old to me.”

Zani broke the seal and unwrapped the package slowly, making sure they didn’t miss a single detail. Inside the paper parcel was a small unadorned wooden box, and inside of that, nested in some soft undyed flannel, was a glass bottle.

It was old, very old. The glass was irregular and iridescent in some areas, frosted in others. Zani passed it to Will, who held it in his hand. He didn’t speak for a moment.

“There’s a letter too,” Zani said. She had lifted the cloth.

She unfolded it. It was in Amrita’s unmistakable handwriting. Zani read it aloud.

If you are reading this then I have managed to be considerably more foolish than even I anticipated, which is really saying something. I want you to know, Will, that none of this is on you. I made this decision with my eyes open, or as open as they can be when one is doing something totally inadvisable. There are moments when you feel the pull of something and you know, with the absolute and maddening certainty of the completely irrational, that you must go.

When I found this message in a bottle amongst the items in the museum’s latest display⁠—

They all looked at the bottle in Will’s hands.

Zani stopped reading.

She reached for the bottle. The stopper was old wax, crumbling at the edges. She worked it loose carefully and tipped the bottle over her palm. A small roll of papyrus slid out, the length of her smallest finger. It was tied with a piece of stiff string. She untied it and unrolled it. The paper was fragile and heavily aged, salt-damaged along the creases, with a dark stain that had eaten through most of the right-hand side.

What was still legible was written in a close, distinctive hand. Zani went very still when she saw it.

“That’s Amrita’s writing!” Maida said, stepping closer.

It wasn’t a question. Zani met Maida’s eye for a moment before reading it aloud.

There’s been a necessary change of plans. You will accompany Will and Zani on the Alexandria mis…

The damage had taken the rest of the scroll.

Zani placed the note back inside and set the bottle back in the box. Will reached out and picked it back up. He held it up to the light.

“She found this sealed first-century bottle in a museum display,” Will marveled. “In our time. Opened it up and recognized her own handwriting? And that was why she went? Not because she thought I was going to screw the mission up?”

“Of course she didn’t think you’re a screw up, Will!” Zani rolled her eyes. “The director adores you. She just knew she had to go.” Zani squeezed Will’s shoulder. “Or that note in there wouldn’t exist.”

Dan looked over at the bottle in Will’s hand. Not just a hunk of old glass anymore, but the closed circle of an epic story. The whole cosmic journey folded into something small enough to fit in a coat pocket.

Zani found her place in Amrita’s letter to them and kept reading.

…which you now have in your hands. I went back to see where it had come from. I had to. How else could the moment have happened?

I should not have let Buffalo come. I know that. But I freely admit I am a fool for love, and I have been in love with that man for longer than I care to admit. I did not know when I would have another chance to be in the same place as him for more than forty-eight hours. In for a penny. You know how it is. Or you will.