Chapter 6 #2
As Seolhyun walked quietly through the sleeping camp, the heavy layers of her robes dragged softly against the earth.
Everything here carried weight.
The outer garments.
The belts.
The elaborate hairpins.
The wrappings around her chest and waist.
Even the sleeves seemed determined to catch on every branch imaginable.
Earlier that day Mirae and Nari had carefully treated her feet with medicinal oils before wrapping them against blisters.
Tomorrow she would walk portions of the journey rather than remain entirely inside the wagon.
The rotations were deliberate.
Three different carriages.
Three different decoys.
Attendants changing places constantly.
Protection through confusion.
Perhaps that was all she truly was here.
A replacement.
One priestess among many veiled women moving through trade routes beneath borrowed identities.
And yet…
No.
The feeling within the crystal had been real.
The dreamscape had not brought her here by accident.
On her return toward the pavilion, Seolhyun slowed near one of the outer watchfires.
A soldier looked up from where he sat sharpening his blade.
Jiho.
Firelight softened the sharp lines of his face, bronze and amber flickering across the dark plates of his armour.
Without the rigid posture required during escort duty, he looked younger somehow.
Less like a soldier.
More like the memory of someone she had once known.
Or perhaps someone she had once almost loved in another lifetime entirely.
For a brief moment neither spoke.
Then Jiho inclined his head.
“You should rest, Priestess.”
His voice remained respectful, though quieter now that no one else stood nearby.
“I could say the same for soldiers.”
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
“Taejin snores loudly enough to frighten spirits away. Someone must remain awake.”
As though summoned by the insult alone, a loud snort echoed from somewhere behind the nearby wagons.
Jiho closed his eyes briefly in resignation.
Claire nearly laughed again.
Dangerous.
Far too dangerous to become comfortable here.
When she finally returned to the pavilion she realised something unsettling.
She had already begun looking for him.
Sleep came only in fragments.
She dreamed of train stations dissolving into temple corridors.
Neon lights bleeding into lantern glow.
Nightclubs layered over Buddhist chants.
Modern basslines woven through ancient prayers.
A recording studio reflected against mountain shrines.
She remembered her own life so vividly that it hurt.
Dance rehearsals.
Coffee after midnight.
Arguments with Eli over the family business.
The freedom to choose where she walked and who she became.
And now…
Now she belonged to a caravan crossing ancient kingdoms beneath borrowed stars.
One thought lingered stubbornly beneath all her fear.
If she were captured…
What secrets could she truly reveal?
The real priestess might have carried sacred knowledge worth torture and interrogation.
Claire carried only fragments of a future not yet born.
Electricity.
Telephones.
Films.
Music.
Wars centuries away.
Impossible ramblings no one here could ever understand.
The irony comforted her.
Morning arrived beneath pale silver skies.
The caravan stirred before dawn, movement spreading quickly through the camp as tents disappeared and supply wagons were reorganised.
Today Seolhyun would walk.
Not openly among merchants, but within the protected inner ranks where soldiers rotated constantly around the priestess’s escort.
The crisp morning air touched her face beneath the veil as the caravan wound through broad mountain roads lined with towering pines and flowering trees.
For the first time since arriving in this world, she could breathe properly.
Even beneath the weight of layered robes.
Even beneath endless supervision.
Freedom existed in movement, at least.
Jiho spent much of the morning on horseback, rotating positions with the outer scouts as patrol formations shifted along the hillsides.
Unlike many others, he never strayed far from the caravan.
He always circled back.
Always returned.
At one point another rider exchanged horses with him before galloping toward the upper ridges where scouts watched for bandit movement.
Jiho mounted again and naturally settled into position beside the priestess’s escort.
Not too close.
Never improperly close.
But near enough that Claire became constantly aware of him.
As though her senses had begun tracking his presence instinctively.
Sunlight caught the fittings of his armour as he glanced sideways beneath the shade of the cedars.
There it was again.
That quiet smile.
The slight expression that recognised, beneath veils and sacred distance, not merely a priestess…
But a person.
Claire lowered her eyes quickly before anyone noticed the warmth blooming traitorously inside her chest.
Different century.
Different world.
Different destiny.
Yet somehow fate had still placed a familiar soul in her path.
Perhaps not the same man.
But close enough to remind her she had once belonged somewhere else.
Close enough to keep her from drowning entirely inside this borrowed life.
Ahead, the caravan bells rang softly as the long procession curved south toward Silla.
Toward kings and courts.
Toward danger.
Toward the strange destiny the dreamscape had chosen for her.
And for now, Claire accepted it.
Because somewhere deep beneath the fear and uncertainty, a small part of her had begun wanting to discover what came next.