The rain fell gently, a steady rhythm against the sea of dark umbrellas. The scent of wet earth mingled with the faint tang of lilies, their petals sagging under the weight of the drizzle. Faces blurred under the soft haze of grief, their silence punctuated by quiet sniffles and the occasional rustle of leaves.

“She was a pioneer, an explorer beyond her time,” said Thomas, Ellara’s son and Sophia’s father, his voice wavering as he spoke to the crowd. “But to us, she was simply our mother and grandmother, a guiding star in our lives.”

Sophia glanced around, noticing a man in a dark suit standing toward the back. He looked out of place, watching her with an intensity that made her shiver. Before she could dwell on it, the ceremony concluded, and people left, their conversations fading into the patter of rain.

Back at her parents’ home, the rooms murmured with soft conversations and the clinking of teacups. The smell of freshly baked bread and herbs filled the air, a gentle reminder of warmth amid the sorrow. Relatives exchanged stories of Ellara’s fierce determination, moments that sparked laughter even on this heavy day.

“She was stubborn, wasn’t she?” said John, an elderly cousin.

“I remember when she marched into the university boardroom and told them their narrow minds were the reason humanity hadn’t touched the stars yet,” said Mary, the elderly cousin’s wife.

“Yes, my sister told me that all they had to say was Dr. Harren, our hands are tied,” said Marcella, Ellara’s younger sister.

“I know that didn’t set well with Ellara!” said Mary.

Everyone shook their heads and smiled because Ellara was someone not to play with. Whether you agreed or disagreed with her, you had to admire her conviction in what she believed.

Sophia smiled, feeling the ache of loss tempered by pride. Her mother, Maya, placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re so much like her. The way you look, the way you question everything.”

Sophia met her mother’s eyes, the weight of the unspoken pressing between them. Before she could reply, she noticed the stranger from the funeral standing at the edge of the room, speaking quietly to Thomas. Her father’s face unreadable, and he nodded slightly before the man turned and left.

As the guests thinned out and the house grew quieter, Sophia slipped into Ellara’s study. The familiar scent of old books and faded ink embraced her, and she took a deep breath, eyes scanning the shelves lined with journals and sketches. Her gaze fell on a worn, leather-bound notebook, its edges frayed from years of use. Her hands hesitated as she reached for it, as though the secrets inside might shift the world. She thought she knew.

Flipping through its yellowed pages, Sophia found notes scrawled in Ellara’s precise handwriting. Equations spiraled into theories, tangling her mind in their complexity. Then she froze. One passage circled in bold ink, leaped from the page: The year was 2044. They think the project ended when the funding ceased, but the work never truly stops. Sophia holds the future in her hands. She must continue where I left off. Her pulse quickened as the weight of her Nanna’s words settled on her shoulders like an invisible shroud.

A knock at the door startle her. “Sophia, are you alright?” asked her mother.

“Yes, just thinking,” said Sophia, sliding the notebook into her lap. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

As the house settled into silence, Sophia traced the inked lines with her fingertips. The faint smell of aged paper and the whisper of turning pages wrapped around her like a cocoon, pulling her deeper into Ellara’s world.

The days following Ellara’s funeral were a blur of condolences and quiet conversations. The world seemed to move on, but for Sophia, the echoes of her Nanna’s life lingered, whispering through her every thought. The notebook she had found in Ellara’s study became her anchor, its contents sparking more questions than answers.

Sophia sat at her desk, the late afternoon sun casting golden light across the pages. The intricate equations and annotated sketches spoke of dimensions and theories far beyond anything taught in her university classes. She pushed her hair back and exhaled, her mind racing as she pieced together fragments of Ellara’s final project.

A soft knock on the door broke her concentration. It was her father, Thomas. “Everything alright, Soph?” he asked, glancing at the notebook before meeting her gaze.

“I’m just... going through Nanna’s notes... there’s so much here that she never talked about,” said Sofia.

Thomas stepped into the room. “Your Nanna was brilliant, but her work was controversial. After the funding was pulled, she worked in secret. Only a few of us knew how far she actually got.”

“You knew? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“We promised her. She didn’t want you to be involved until you were ready. She said you’d know when the time came,” said her father.

Sophia’s chest tightened with a mixture of frustration and awe. “I think that time is now.” Sophia looked down at the notes once more. A faded yellow note caught her attention, circled in blue ink. “What’s this?” The note read: The key is not in the device itself, but in the one who dares to cross. Energy flows where belief does; it’s a matter of unlocking not just the door, but the self that stands before it.

A memory surfaced, nights spent listening to Nanna speak of energy fields, consciousness, and realms beyond death. Sophia had thought it was the musings of a brilliant mind, stories wrapped in science. But now, those musings felt like instructions.

Before Thomas could respond, the doorbell rang, and they exchanged a glance. It was late for visitors. Sophia followed him to the front door, where an unfamiliar man stood under the porch light, his dark coat, rain dripping from its edges. His expression was unreadable, his eyes looking around the room behind them like he was searching for something—or someone.

He looked like the stranger from the funeral, but up close, his features were sharper, his eyes probing as though they could see straight through her. There was an intensity to him, something both unsettling and magnetic, like he knew things he had no right to know.

“Thomas Harren?” he said, his voice low and clipped. “My name is Dr. Aaron Olm. I worked with Ellara on the original Transient Threshold project.”

“I thought all of her colleagues had retired or moved on after the funding was cut.”

Dr. Olm’s eyes looked at Sophia. “Most did, but not me. I stayed close and kept watch. And now, it seems the project is alive again.”

“Why now? What do you want?”

“It’s not what I want, Ms. Harren,” said Dr. Olm, his gaze serious. “It’s what Ellara wanted. She knew the project wasn’t meant to end. It was only dormant, waiting for the right moment and the right hands. That moment is now. I can help you uncover the truth she left hidden in plain sight. It’s what Ellara wanted. She knew there would come a time when the project needed a guardian. And that time is here. I can help you understand what she left behind.”

Thomas looked at Sophia, his concern deepening. “Soph, this man claims to know Ellara’s work, but we don’t know him. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Sophia hesitated, the weight of the notebook pressing against her like a silent question. The doubts tugged at her. Could she handle this? But then her Nanna’s words echoed in her mind: Sophia holds the future in her hands.

Sophia hesitated, the weight of the notebook pressing against her like a silent question. Doubts tugged at her. Could she handle this? But then her Nanna’s words echoed in her mind: Sophia holds the future in her hands. “Yes, we need to finish what she started.”

Dr. Olm’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Then we don’t have a moment to lose.”

As the rain picked up outside, Sophia felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. This was the beginning of a journey that stretched beyond life and death, one Ellara had set in motion long before her final breath. The path was unknown, but Sophia was ready to take the first step. But what was that step?