The alarm on Maya's phone buzzed at 6:30 AM, but she'd been awake for hours, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling while processing everything Rose had shared with her the day before. The medallion sat warm against her palm where she'd been clutching it unconsciously, and fragments of her latest dream drifted through her mind like morning mist—Ouray's voice promising that tomorrow would bring understanding, his words about trusting in their connection despite everything her rational mind said was impossible.
Today she would meet Thomas Mountain Bear, the keeper of sacred lake stories and traditional ceremonies. Grace had mentioned that Thomas specialized in the spiritual significance of sacred sites, particularly the lake that featured so prominently in Maya's dreams and family history. Unlike yesterday's interview with Rose, which had focused on Chief Ouray's personal experiences, Thomas would share the deeper ceremonial traditions and legends surrounding the sacred waters themselves.
Maya dressed in her most respectful attire—dark pants, a simple blouse, and a jacket that Grace had suggested would be appropriate for visiting with an elder who maintained traditional ways. She carefully placed Ouray's medallion in her bag alongside her recording equipment, unwilling to leave it behind but uncertain whether she should mention it to Thomas.
The drive to Thomas's home took Maya higher into the mountains than she'd been before, following winding roads that seemed to climb toward the sky itself. The landscape became increasingly wild and pristine, with fewer signs of modern settlement and more evidence of the natural world that had existed here for millennia. Ancient pine trees lined the roads, their massive trunks speaking of centuries of growth, and Maya caught glimpses of wildlife—elk grazing in distant meadows, hawks circling overhead, the flash of smaller animals disappearing into the forest.
As she climbed higher, Maya felt a familiar stirring in her chest, the same sense of recognition and homecoming that had been growing stronger with each day she spent in Colorado. But there was something else today, a pull that seemed to grow more intense as she approached Thomas's property, as if the land itself was calling to her with increasing urgency.
Thomas Mountain Bear lived on a substantial piece of property that had clearly been in his family for generations. The main house was a log structure that appeared to have been built by hand, weathered but well-maintained, surrounded by outbuildings that suggested a life lived in close partnership with the land. There were gardens that followed traditional three-sisters planting patterns, areas designated for drying herbs and processing hides, and what appeared to be a traditional sweat lodge constructed near a grove of aspen trees.
But it was the location that took Maya's breath away. Thomas's property sat on a rise that offered panoramic views of the surrounding valleys and mountains, including a distant vista that Maya was certain showed the sacred lake she'd seen from Elk Ridge. Even from this distance, the sight of that water made her heart race with a mixture of anticipation and something that felt like homesickness.
As Maya parked her rental car, a man emerged from the house with the steady, purposeful movements of someone completely at home in his environment. Thomas Mountain Bear appeared to be in his seventies, with long silver hair braided traditionally and weathered features that spoke of decades spent outdoors. He wore jeans, boots, and a shirt in deep blue cotton, but Maya could see traditional jewelry—turquoise and silver pieces that caught the morning light.
What struck Maya most about Thomas was his eyes. Dark and penetrating like Rose's, but holding a different quality—a depth that suggested someone who had spent a lifetime studying the mysteries of sacred places and spiritual traditions. When his gaze met hers, Maya felt as if he was seeing not just her surface appearance but something much deeper, something that connected to the very reasons she'd been drawn to this place.
"Maya Sterling," Thomas said, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that came from years of being sought out for wisdom and guidance. "Grace told me you've been learning about your family's connection to our community. She also mentioned that you've been having some... unusual experiences since you arrived."
Maya felt a flutter of surprise. She hadn't expected Grace to share details about her dreams or spiritual experiences with other interview subjects. "Yes, I've been discovering connections I never knew existed. And you're right about the unusual experiences—I'm still trying to understand them myself."
"Come," Thomas said, gesturing toward the house. "I have coffee ready, and there are things I need to show you about the sacred lake before you visit it tomorrow. But first, I want to hear about these experiences in your own words."
Thomas's house reflected a life dedicated to preserving traditional knowledge while embracing practical modernity. The main room featured handcrafted furniture alongside contemporary amenities, walls lined with books about Native American history and spirituality, and display cases containing what appeared to be ceremonial items and artifacts. Large windows offered commanding views of the mountains and the distant lake that had been calling to Maya in her dreams.
"Sit wherever you're comfortable," Thomas said, pouring coffee from a pot that smelled rich and complex. "Grace tells me you're a historian, so you'll appreciate the documentation I maintain. But I suspect what you're experiencing here goes beyond anything you could research in books or archives."
Maya accepted the coffee and settled into a chair that allowed her to see both Thomas and the mountain vista beyond the windows. "Thomas, I have to admit I'm not sure how much Grace has told you about my... unusual experiences. I don't want to sound like I'm losing my grip on reality."
"Reality," Thomas repeated thoughtfully, settling into his own chair with the deliberate movements of someone taking time to choose his words carefully. "That's an interesting concept for a historian to be concerned about. After all, your job is to study the past—events and people that exist only in records and memories, but that shaped everything about the present moment."
Maya considered this, recognizing the wisdom in his observation. "I suppose that's true. I spend most of my professional life documenting and analyzing things that are no longer physically present but that continue to influence the world."
"Exactly. So when I ask you to tell me about your experiences here, I'm not asking you to prove they fit into conventional understanding of reality. I'm asking you to share what you've observed and felt, the same way you would document any historical event." Thomas leaned forward slightly. "Now, tell me about the dreams."
Maya found herself sharing details she hadn't told Grace or Rose—the increasing vividness of her dreams, the sense that she was actually visiting another time and place rather than just imagining scenarios, and most importantly, the growing conviction that the man in her dreams was not a figment of her imagination but someone real who was reaching across impossible distances to connect with her.
Thomas listened without interruption, occasionally nodding as if her experiences confirmed things he already knew or suspected. When Maya finished, he was quiet for several minutes, staring out at the mountains as if consulting with forces she couldn't see.
"Maya, how much do you know about the concept of sacred geography?" Thomas asked finally.
"I'm familiar with the idea that certain places hold special significance for indigenous communities. Sacred sites, ceremonial grounds, locations connected to spiritual practices and cultural traditions."
"That's the academic understanding, yes. But I'm asking about something deeper—the idea that some places exist at intersections between different realities, different times, different states of being." Thomas stood up and walked to one of the display cases, withdrawing what appeared to be a rolled piece of hide covered with intricate drawings.
"This is a map," he said, returning to his seat and carefully unrolling the hide on the table between them. "Not of physical geography, but of spiritual geography. It shows the sacred sites in this region and the... connections... between them."
Maya leaned forward to study the map. The drawings were incredibly detailed, showing mountains, valleys, lakes, and rivers, but also featuring symbols and patterns that seemed to represent something beyond ordinary topography. Lines connected various locations, creating a complex web that seemed to pulse with meaning even though Maya couldn't understand the specific symbolism.
"This lake," Thomas said, pointing to a particular symbol on the map, "is what white settlers eventually called Sacred Springs Lake. But its real name, in our language, translates roughly to 'The Waters Where Time Flows Differently.' It's been recognized for centuries as a place where the boundaries between past, present, and future become... permeable."
Maya felt a chill run down her spine. "Permeable how?"
"Stories passed down through generations speak of people who have disappeared at that lake, only to reappear years or decades later with no memory of lost time. Others have reported seeing figures from the past walking along its shores, or experiencing visions of events that happened generations ago as if they were happening in the present moment."
Thomas traced one of the lines on the map with his finger. "But more than that, there are accounts of people who have somehow crossed between different time periods entirely. Warriors who stepped into the lake during times of great crisis and emerged in different eras. Women who followed spiritual callings into the water and found themselves living lives that belonged to other centuries."
"Are you saying that time travel is... real?" Maya's voice came out as a whisper.
"I'm saying that our ancestors understood something about the nature of time and reality that most people today have forgotten. They knew that some places, some circumstances, allow for movement between what we think of as fixed boundaries." Thomas rolled up the map carefully. "And I'm saying that the dreams you're having suggest you may be sensitive to those same forces."
Maya felt her rational mind struggling to process what Thomas was suggesting. The historian in her wanted evidence, documentation, proof that could be verified through conventional research methods. But another part of her—the part that had been shaped by years of studying phenomena that couldn't always be quantified—felt a deep resonance with Thomas's words.
"Thomas, yesterday Rose showed me a medallion that she said belonged to Chief Ouray. When I touched it, I felt... something. A connection, a recognition, as if it knew me." Maya reached into her bag and withdrew the medallion, holding it out for Thomas to see. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Thomas's expression grew very serious as he studied the medallion without touching it. "May I?" he asked, and when Maya nodded, he took it carefully in his hands.
The moment the medallion touched Thomas's palms, Maya saw his eyes widen slightly. He held it for nearly a minute, his expression growing more thoughtful and concerned with each passing second.
"This piece carries very old energy," he said finally, handing it back to Maya. "Energy connected to powerful spiritual practices and deep emotional bonds. When you hold it, what do you feel?"
"Warmth. Recognition. Like it belongs with me, even though I'd never seen it before yesterday." Maya accepted the medallion back, immediately feeling the familiar pulse of energy that seemed to emanate from the beadwork.
"That's because it recognizes you the same way you recognize it. Some objects become infused with the spiritual essence of their owners, especially items that were worn during times of intense emotion or spiritual practice. If this medallion belonged to Chief Ouray, and if your dreams are connecting you to his spirit, then the medallion would naturally respond to your presence."
Thomas stood up and walked to the windows overlooking the distant lake. "Maya, I need to ask you something important. In your dreams, does Chief Ouray ever speak to you about the sacred lake? Does he mention anything about crossing between worlds or different times?"
Maya thought about her most recent dream, remembering Ouray's words about trusting in their connection and his promise that she would soon understand the power of love that could bridge any distance.
"He speaks about the lake as if it's... alive. As if it has power to connect people across impossible distances. And he talks about love being strong enough to transcend any barrier." Maya paused, then added quietly, "He speaks as if he's waiting for me somewhere, and as if the lake is the key to finding him."
Thomas nodded slowly, as if her words confirmed something he'd been expecting to hear. "Maya, what I'm about to tell you is not recorded in any history book, not documented in any academic source. It's knowledge that has been preserved in our oral traditions for more than a century, passed down through the families that witnessed events that challenged everything they thought they knew about the nature of reality."
Thomas returned to his seat and leaned forward, his dark eyes holding Maya's gaze with intensity.
"Chief Ouray didn't disappear in the way most people understand disappearance. According to the elders who were present, he deliberately chose to cross into what our traditions call the 'in-between time'—a state of existence that allows movement between different periods and realities. He did this because he believed it was the only way to reach someone who was calling to him from another time."
Maya's heart began to race. "Someone who was calling to him?"
"A woman whose spirit he recognized as his true mate, but who existed in a time he couldn't reach through ordinary means. The elders say he spent months preparing for this crossing through intensive spiritual practices and ceremonies. When he finally entered the sacred lake, he wasn't dying or disappearing—he was traveling."
"Traveling to where?"
"To whenever and wherever he needed to be to find the woman who completed his soul." Thomas's voice carried the weight of ancient wisdom. "Maya, the reason your dreams feel so real, the reason you recognize Chief Ouray's image and respond to his medallion, is because you are that woman. Your spirit has been calling to his across more than a century of time, and now your physical presence in this place has awakened the connection between you."
Maya felt the blood drain from her face. The implications of what Thomas was suggesting went far beyond family history or spiritual metaphor. If he was right, if her dreams represented some kind of actual communication with Chief Ouray's spirit, then her entire understanding of reality needed to be reconsidered.
"Thomas, what you're describing sounds like... like fantasy. Like something from a novel, not real life."
"Does it feel like fantasy when you're experiencing it? Do your dreams feel like imagination, or do they feel like memories of experiences you've actually had?" Thomas's expression was gentle but serious. "Maya, Western education teaches us to distrust experiences that can't be explained through conventional science. But indigenous wisdom traditions understand that reality is much more complex and mysterious than most people are willing to acknowledge."
Maya held the medallion, feeling its warmth pulse against her palm. Everything Thomas was saying resonated with her own experiences in ways that her rational mind found disturbing but her deeper instincts recognized as truth.
"If what you're saying is true, if these dreams are real communications with Chief Ouray's spirit, then what am I supposed to do with that knowledge?"
"You're supposed to trust it. You're supposed to follow where it leads, even if that path takes you to places your mind says are impossible." Thomas stood up and walked to another display case, withdrawing what appeared to be a small bundle wrapped in soft leather.
"I want to show you something that belonged to my great-great-grandfather. He was one of the tribal elders who cared for Chief Ouray during his recovery after the great battle." Thomas returned to his seat and carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing a piece of carved stone in the shape of a bear.
"This is a spirit guide—a carved representation of the animal spirit that guided my great-grandfather through his own spiritual journeys. But more importantly, it was blessed by Chief Ouray himself during his time in the mountain refuge, while he was healing from his wounds."
Thomas held the carving out to Maya. "I want you to hold this and tell me what you feel."
Maya accepted the stone bear with trembling hands. The moment it touched her skin, she felt a jolt of recognition so intense it made her gasp. Images flashed through her mind—a Ute village by a lake, ceremonies conducted under starlight, a man with Ouray's face blessing objects and people before undertaking some momentous journey.
"I see him," Maya whispered, staring at the stone bear in amazement. "I see Chief Ouray holding this, blessing it. I can see the ceremony, the people gathered around him, the lake in the background."
"Because you were there," Thomas said quietly. "Not spiritually, but actually there. The visions you're having aren't ancient memories from ceremonies that happened before you were born - they're your own memories of experiences you haven't had yet. The connection between you and Ouray exists outside of normal time, and touching objects he blessed awakens memories of a life you're meant to live."
Maya set the stone bear carefully on the table, her hands shaking too much to hold it safely. The visions had been so vivid, so detailed, that they felt more like recovered memories than imagination.
"Thomas, I'm a historian. I've spent my career studying evidence, analyzing sources, documenting facts that can be verified. What you're asking me to accept challenges everything I understand about how the world works."
"I'm not asking you to abandon your training or your intelligence. I'm asking you to expand your understanding of what constitutes evidence and truth." Thomas retrieved the stone bear and wrapped it carefully. "Your dreams, your recognition of Ouray's image, your response to his medallion, your visions when touching blessed objects—these are all forms of evidence, just not the kind you're used to working with."
Thomas walked back to the windows and stood looking out at the distant lake. "Maya, tomorrow Grace is going to take you to visit the sacred lake in person. When you stand at those waters, when you feel their energy directly, you're going to have to make a choice about what you believe and what you're willing to trust."
"What kind of choice?"
"The choice to remain a historian studying the past from the outside, or to become someone who participates in the past from the inside. The choice to keep treating your spiritual experiences as interesting psychological phenomena, or to accept them as communications from someone who loves you more than you've ever been loved before."
Thomas turned back to face Maya, his expression serious but not unkind. "Chief Ouray crossed into the in-between time because he believed love was more powerful than the boundaries that separate different eras. If your dreams are real, if your connection to him is genuine, then the lake will offer you the same choice he made—the choice to trust love more than logic, spirit more than science."
Maya spent the next two hours with Thomas, learning about the traditional ceremonies connected to the sacred lake, the spiritual practices that prepared people for profound spiritual experiences, and the historical accounts of other individuals who had experienced what Thomas called "crossings between times."
He showed her additional artifacts and ceremonial items, each one triggering visions or sensations that felt like recovered memories. By the time she prepared to leave, Maya felt as if her understanding of reality had been permanently altered.
"Thomas, if I do visit the lake tomorrow, if I do experience something... unusual... what should I expect?"
"I can't tell you what you'll experience, because each person's spiritual journey is unique. But I can tell you this—the lake will show you truth. It will reveal the real nature of your connection to Chief Ouray and give you the opportunity to act on that truth if you choose."
Thomas walked her to her car, moving with the same deliberate purpose she'd noticed when she arrived. As she prepared to drive away, he placed a weathered hand on her arm.
"Maya, remember that some journeys require more courage than others. The path your dreams are calling you toward will ask you to trust things you've never had to trust before. But if your love for Chief Ouray is real, if your spiritual connection to him is genuine, then that love will give you the strength to follow wherever the path leads."
As Maya drove back down the mountain toward Willow Springs, her mind was spinning with everything Thomas had shared. The concept of sacred geography, the idea that certain places could facilitate movement between different times, the suggestion that her dreams represented actual communication with Chief Ouray's spirit—all of it challenged her fundamental assumptions about the nature of reality.
But it was the artifacts that had affected her most profoundly. The stone bear, the blessed objects, the items that had triggered visions so vivid they felt like memories—these experiences suggested connections that went far beyond psychological projection or wishful thinking.
That evening, Maya found herself unable to concentrate on organizing her notes from the day's interview. Every time she tried to focus on Thomas's words about sacred geography or time crossings, her mind wandered to the stone bear and the vivid visions it had triggered. The medallion sat on her nightstand, and she could feel its warmth even from across the room.
Unable to bear the isolation any longer, Maya picked up her phone and called Anya.
"Maya?" Anya answered immediately, as if she'd been waiting for the call. "I was just thinking about you. How are you holding up with all this family history research?"
"Anya, I need to tell you something, and I need you to listen without thinking I've lost my mind." Maya took a deep breath. "I think something extraordinary is happening to me here. Something that goes way beyond normal research or family genealogy."
Maya found herself sharing the basic facts of her interview with Thomas—the maps of sacred geography, the historical accounts of people disappearing at the lake, the artifacts that had triggered vivid visions. As she spoke, she could hear her own voice becoming more animated, more convinced of things that would have seemed impossible just days ago.
"Maya," Anya said when she finished, her voice carrying a note of wonder, "you sound like you're discovering things that are changing how you see the world. This isn't just research anymore, is it?"
Maya picked up the medallion, feeling its familiar warmth. "Anya, have I ever sounded like this about research before? Like I'm losing my mind or finding something that changes everything?"
There was a long pause before Anya answered. "No. Through all your books and research trips, I've never heard you sound like this. You're not just excited about finding sources or uncovering documents. You sound like you're... coming alive. Like you've been holding your breath for years and can finally breathe."
"Is that how I sound?"
"Like you've found something you didn't even know you were looking for. And Maya?" Anya's voice grew more serious. "That's not frightening to me. That's extraordinary. You've spent your whole career studying other people's stories, documenting their experiences. If this place and these dreams are calling to you in ways that don't make logical sense according to your academic training, maybe that means you're meant to be part of the story instead of just writing about it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean maybe it's time to stop being afraid of what you might discover if you stop analyzing your experiences and start trusting them. You've always been the one with better intuition about historical and spiritual matters. If something here is pulling you toward a truth that can't be found in books or archives, then follow that pull."
"Even if it leads somewhere I can't predict or control?"
"Especially then. The best discoveries usually do."
After hanging up, Maya prepared for bed with the medallion on her nightstand and Thomas's words echoing in her memory. Tomorrow she would visit the sacred lake in person, would stand at the waters that figured so prominently in her dreams and family history. According to Thomas, that visit would require her to make choices about what she believed and what she was willing to trust.
As she drifted off to sleep, Maya found herself hoping that her dreams would provide guidance for the decisions she sensed were approaching. The path she'd been following since arriving in Colorado had led her to discoveries that challenged her understanding of reality itself. Tomorrow, according to everyone she'd spoken with, would determine whether she was ready to follow that path wherever it might lead.
In her dreams that night, Maya found herself standing waist-deep in the sacred lake, the water warm against her skin despite the cool mountain air. This time, Chief Ouray didn't stay at a distance. He moved through the water toward her with purpose, his eyes never leaving hers.
When he reached her, his hands cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away tears she didn't realize she was crying. His touch felt more real than anything in her waking life.
"Numa," his voice was a whisper against her lips, "I have waited so long to touch you."
Before she could respond, his mouth found hers in a kiss that sent electricity through every nerve in her body. She could taste mountain air and something wild, something that belonged to another time. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt the solid strength of his chest against hers.
When they broke apart, she couldn't see his lips moving, but his voice filled her mind: "Come to me, Numa. Come to the sacred waters tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you there, as I've been waiting my whole life. Feel how close we are, even when we cannot yet touch."
His hands traced down her arms, intertwining their fingers, and Maya felt a longing so intense it was almost painful. She tried to speak, to tell him she was frightened, but he pressed his forehead against hers.
"I know you're scared, Numa. But tomorrow when you stand at the sacred waters, you'll feel how close we truly are. You'll understand that what we share is real, even if we cannot yet touch in the same world."
His voice grew softer, more urgent: "The dreams will continue, my heart. They will grow stronger, deeper, until the boundary between us becomes so thin that love itself will find a way. But first, you must see the lake with your own eyes. You must feel its power calling to you."
Maya woke gasping, her entire body tingling as if his hands were still on her skin. The medallion pulsed warm against her palm, and she could swear she still tasted his kiss.