The Portal of the Stone opened in almost reverent silence.
The bluish energy formed a firm, stable arch.
It was time.
—
Kael gave the signal.
The witches adjusted their cloaks and concealed communicators.
Each carried only the essentials:
drachma coins, minimal weaponry, and the training forged over countless missions.
The jump began.
—
The passage was denser than usual.
The lines of time resisted—as if history itself mistrusted intruders.
But then, the ground welcomed them.
Solid stone.
Soft dust beneath sandals.
—
Athens. 421 B.C.
—
The morning sun gilded the rooftops of clay and marble.
The air carried the scents of olive oil, wine, and urban life.
Along the stone streets, citizens moved:
philosophers, artisans, soldiers.
Masters and slaves.
Merchants and spies.
Athens alive.
Athens pulsing.
Athens watching.
—
Kael kept the group close as they walked toward the Agora, the great market and political center of the city.
No haste.
No drawing attention.
—
Amina and Samantha discreetly began tracking the anomalous energy.
The reading was immediate:
> "Active flow. Direction: eastern sector of the Acropolis."
Camila and Claudia were tasked with mapping escape routes and identifying safe gathering spots.
Nikita and Helena maintained vigilance and defense.
—
As they crossed the Agora, Kael absorbed the scene.
Athens was a city on the brink of historic decisions.
The Peloponnesian War threatened its stability.
But the true battle, he knew, was invisible.
In the corners, shadows lingered.
Not all were ordinary mortals.
Time was already beginning to react to their presence.
Kael activated his communicator:
— We'll proceed toward the flow.
— The past is waiting for us.