The rain fell upon the world once more, as though the heavens themselves were weeping for the souls who still wandered here. The sound of raindrops striking bamboo roofs and fallen leaves became a soft rhythm guiding Samreth and Sophea on their journey northward.
Their shadows were nearly swallowed by the storm. The road ahead grew uncertain; mud devoured their footprints, and flashes of lightning tore open the sky like cracks in Sophea's heart. Neither spoke. The weight of Grandfather Sovann's words lingered in both their minds:
"You have already changed time."
Samreth's hand brushed against the pocket watch hidden beneath his shirt. It ticked faintly, in rhythm with his heartbeat, and every flicker of lightning seemed to reveal the next step of their path.
Sophea led him through soaked undergrowth until they reached a vast tree, where the forest opened to reveal a wide, dark river untouched by rain — a strange, haunting sight.
"This is the Chraing River," Sophea said, raising her voice above the storm. "It used to be a fishing village. Now, it's just a river of ghosts."
Samreth peered into the distance, where faint lights shimmered on the far bank — perhaps lanterns, perhaps something else.
"We have to cross?" he asked.
She nodded. "There's an old raft hidden under the water. It'll take us to the other side of the river. It's safer there — the solilder rarely patrols that village."
He hesitated, glancing at the swirling current. "You're sure they don't patrol?"
Sophea gave a tired, faint smile. "Nothing's certain in this time, Samreth. But we have to try."
They followed the riverbank until they found the old raft tied with rotting rope. Sophea checked the knots, then tossed her rifle across and stepped onto the slick surface. The raft creaked under her weight, groaning like an old beast.
"Come," she said.
Samreth stepped after her carefully. The raft drifted slowly away from the shore, and mist rose from the water like the breath of sleeping gods, forming silent rings that rippled outward.
"There's a whirlpool," Samreth whispered.
Moments later, both felt it — a shift in the air, as though time itself was starting to flow backward. Death felt close. The forest blurred into shadows, and all sound in the world faded until only the ticking of the watch remained.
Then Samreth heard it — a voice calling his name, not from outside, but from deep within himself. It was low, unfamiliar, carried by the wind.
"Samreth…"
He jerked his head up sharply. Sophea hadn't moved. She stood at the front of the raft, staring into the mist.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"Hear what?"
Before he could answer, the current roared to life. The raft lurched violently, spinning toward the rocks. Sophea shouted, grabbing at a tree branch jutting from the riverbank. Samreth leapt forward, catching her hand — and in the next instant, she fell into his arms.
Rain poured down. The river stilled. Even the thunder above fell silent.
And then he saw them — beneath the water's surface.Spirits. Countless faces with eyes glowing softly, filled with sorrow.
Sophea's voice rose from within his grasp."Samreth! What's happening?"
He couldn't speak. The pocket watch on his chest glowed with a fierce crimson light. The shadows beneath the river began to shift, forming visions of memory — soldiers, villagers, mothers clutching their children. Their mouths opened in soundless cries.
Then a whisper — clearer than before:
"You are walking against the river's current…"
And suddenly, time lurched forward again.
The raft slammed against a rock, snapping its bamboo poles. Water rushed in. Sophea grabbed her rifle as Samreth plunged into the shallows, pulling her toward the muddy bank.
They collapsed together, drenched and breathless. Sophea turned to him, eyes wide.
"What was that?" she gasped.
"That," he said after a trembling breath, "is what the Lotus sent me to heal."
Samreth looked back toward the river. The surface had gone calm again — still, quiet, almost peaceful.
But the reflection he had seen moments before would never leave him.
And in that silence, Samreth made his decision.He would heal the wound in time — whatever it cost.