The first full day upon the southern road felt endless.
Even beneath the elegance of the priestess carriage, Seolhyun found herself restless by midday.
The wagon rolled steadily along ancient mountain routes carved into the sides of cliffs and forests, its wheels creaking softly beneath embroidered canopies while distant caravan bells echoed through the valleys.
Outside, life moved constantly.
Camel handlers shouted in northern dialects.
Silla soldiers rotated patrol positions along the outer ridges.
Merchants argued over inventory.
Foreign musicians somewhere near the rear caravans played reed instruments unlike anything Claire had ever heard before.
Inside the priestess carriage, however, silence and composure were expected.
Seolhyun sat cross-legged upon layered cushions beside two of her closest attendants.
The elder of the pair was named Mirae, sharp-eyed and endlessly observant despite her gentle manner. The younger, Nari, possessed a softer disposition but worried constantly over everything from weather to bandits to poisoned tea.
Neither woman had yet voiced their growing suspicions aloud.
But Claire could feel them noticing changes.
The priestess they knew had once been distant. Reserved. Almost ghostlike.
Now she occasionally stared too long at strange objects.
Asked unusual questions.
Forgot prayers halfway through recitation.
And smiled far too easily.
Two eunuchs had been assigned permanently to the priestess escort.
One remained close to the women’s carriage itself — an older eunuch named Hanul, whose calm temperament soothed the attendants whenever nerves rose too high.
The second, younger and considerably more anxious, rotated between the military ranks and caravan officials delivering messages.
His name was Bokjin.
And by the time dusk approached, Bokjin had convinced himself they would all die horribly before reaching Silla.
“I heard the northern ridge routes are crawling with mountain thieves,” he whispered dramatically upon returning from the outer camp lines.
Nari paled immediately.
Mirae rolled her eyes.
Hanul sighed deeply. “You hear rumours every hour.”
“This one came from soldiers.”
“That makes it worse,” Mirae muttered. “Soldiers exaggerate everything.”
“They said spies have already entered the caravan.”
“They also said a tiger spirit stole a horse two nights ago.”
“That horse is still missing!”
By evening the caravan finally settled near a valley river surrounded by enormous cedar trees and low flowering hills.
Compared to the dangerous mountain passes, the camp almost felt peaceful.
Hundreds of lanterns were lit across the encampment as cooks prepared fires and guards rotated watch positions. Silk banners snapped softly in the evening wind while traders unloaded water barrels and secured animals for the night.
The priestess wagons were stationed near the center of the inner camp circle where protection was strongest.
Even then, multiple patrols remained active.
No one took chances.
Not after the rumours.
Seolhyun nearly sighed aloud in relief when Hanul finally approached her.
“You may walk briefly before evening prayers,” he informed her carefully. “But General Hwan Ryuk’s orders remain absolute.”
Meaning:
Never alone.
Ever.
Within minutes, the escort assembled around her.
Hanul.
Mirae and Nari.
Two armed soldiers assigned for evening rotation duty.
And, to Claire’s immediate surprise—
Him.
The younger soldier standing beside the lantern post turned as she approached, and for one dangerous heartbeat her chest tightened painfully.
Not Eric.
But close enough to fracture memory.
The same calm eyes.
The same effortless timing in movement.
The same quiet amusement hidden beneath discipline.
Only younger.
Stronger perhaps.
And dressed in dark Silla armour instead of modern clothing.
His name, she learned quickly, was Ren Jiho.
Beside him stood another guard, broader and older, named Taejin, whose permanent expression suggested he regretted every decision that had brought him here.
Jiho bowed respectfully as Seolhyun approached.
Yet when he lifted his eyes again, there was unmistakable curiosity there.
Not inappropriate.
Just… fascinated.
As though the mysterious priestess hidden beneath veils and moon markings had suddenly become unexpectedly human.
The evening walk began quietly enough.
The small group followed a narrow path leading toward the riverbanks beyond camp while several tiny northern lap dogs — gifts intended for the Silla court — trotted impatiently ahead on silk leads.
The creatures were absurdly pampered.
One wore tiny bells.
Another refused to walk through mud entirely.
A third barked furiously at absolutely nothing every few minutes.
Claire nearly laughed the first time Jiho muttered under his breath:
“These creatures crossed deserts only to terrorise soldiers.”
Taejin snorted.
Hanul looked scandalised. “They are royal gifts.”
“They are demons with fur.”
One of the tiny dogs promptly relieved itself directly beside Taejin’s boot.
Nari gasped.
Mirae burst into muffled laughter behind her sleeve.
Even Seolhyun’s shoulders shook slightly beneath her veil.
Jiho noticed immediately.
And smiled.
Not boldly.
Not improperly.
But warmly enough that Claire had to look away.
The path curved deeper toward the cedar groves where moonlight filtered silver through the branches.
That was when the incident happened.
A sharp hiss cut through the quiet.
Everyone froze.
Coiled across the narrow path ahead lay a mountain serpent, thick-bodied and dark against the stones.
Nari nearly shrieked.
Bokjin — who had insisted on joining halfway through the walk despite being terrified — stumbled backward so quickly he nearly fell directly into the river.
Jiho moved instantly.
One smooth motion.
Sword drawn.
A single precise strike.
The serpent fell still before most of them even processed what happened.
Silence lingered for half a breath.
Then Bokjin whispered weakly:
“…I hate this country.”
The absurdity of it shattered the tension completely.
Seolhyun laughed.
Not politely.
Not reserved.
A real laugh.
Soft and sudden and bright beneath the veil.
Everyone turned toward her in surprise.
Even she looked startled afterward.
Because the sound did not belong to the solemn priestess they expected.
Jiho stared at her openly for a moment too long before catching himself.
And in that instant Claire saw it clearly:
He liked her already.
Not because she was sacred.
But because she seemed alive.
As they resumed walking, the mood shifted noticeably lighter.
Even Taejin relaxed enough to tease Bokjin mercilessly.
“If bandits arrive, we’ll throw you at them first.”
“I would die immediately.”
“Exactly. It may distract them.”
Hanul muttered prayers under his breath about losing all dignity within this escort.
Meanwhile Mirae observed Seolhyun carefully from the edge of the lanternlight.
Too carefully.
“You have changed,” she said quietly once the others drifted slightly ahead.
Claire stilled internally.
Mirae’s gaze softened.
“Not badly,” she added. “Just… lighter.”
Nari nodded quickly. “Before this journey you barely spoke for days at a time.”
“That sounds peaceful,” Seolhyun murmured before thinking.
Jiho overheard and laughed quietly.
Mirae narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“You joke now too.”
Dangerous territory.
Claire lowered her gaze carefully, slipping back into the composed cadence expected of a priestess.
“Perhaps the mountains were heavier than I realised.”
The answer seemed to satisfy them.
For now.
As the group returned toward camp, distant drums echoed somewhere among the outer caravan rings.
Signal calls.
Changing watch rotations.
Jiho’s expression shifted instantly back to soldierly alertness.
“The General wants tighter formations tonight,” Taejin informed Hanul quietly.
“More rumours?”
Jiho nodded once.
“Intercepted messages.”
Hanul frowned.
“Northerners?”
“Possibly.”
The word settled heavily over the group.
Everyone knew the truth already.
Somewhere beyond the safety of the campfires, people were searching for the priestess.
Not to worship her.
To use her.
To break her open for secrets.
Jiho glanced once toward Seolhyun as though silently reaffirming his duty.
And Claire realised something unsettling beneath the flickering lanternlight.
For the first time since arriving in this strange forgotten century…
She no longer felt entirely alone.
That night, the camp settled slowly beneath the cedar trees.
The laughter from the evening fires dimmed one flame at a time until only the low murmur of guards changing watch remained beneath the endless chorus of insects and distant river water.
Inside the priestess pavilion, the women slept close together upon layered bedding spread across woven mats. The air smelled faintly of cedar oil, drying herbs, warm silk, and ash from the nearby fires.
But Seolhyun could not sleep.
Not truly.
She lay awake listening to the unfamiliar rhythm of another century breathing around her.
Outside the tent walls, soldiers remained stationed through the night. She had noticed earlier how differently the military men slept compared to the sheltered attendants — sprawled beside small campfires with cloaks wrapped around their shoulders, swords still within arm’s reach even in rest.
Always prepared.
Always half awake.
The world outside these caravan circles was dangerous enough that comfort had become a luxury few soldiers trusted.
Carefully, Seolhyun rose without disturbing the others.
The two tiny northern lap dogs assigned to Hanul and Bokjin barely stirred as she passed. One lifted its head sleepily before settling again after she scratched gently beneath its chin.
Hanul, bundled near the rear divider with one of the dogs curled against his side, had somehow already become absurdly attached to the creatures.
Claire almost smiled.
Earlier that evening she had overheard him whispering sternly to one of them for chewing ceremonial ribbon.
“You are a royal gift,” he had scolded quietly. “Conduct yourself accordingly.”
The cool night air greeted her softly as she slipped outside.
Lanterns swayed gently between the caravan wagons while distant watchfires burned low along the perimeter trails. Several guards nodded respectfully as the priestess passed, though none approached too closely.
Even here, she was protected by distance.
And expectation.
The lavatory tents sat slightly downhill from the main encampment near a grove of dark pines. As Seolhyun walked quietly through the sleeping camp, the heavy layers of her robes dragged softly against the earth.
God, she missed modern clothing.
Everything here weighed something.
The outer robes.
The belts.
The hairpins.
The wrappings around her chest and waist.
Even her sleeves seemed determined to catch on every branch imaginable.
Earlier, Mirae and Nari had carefully treated and wrapped her feet with medicinal oils to prevent blistering before the next day’s journey.
Tomorrow she would walk portions of the caravan route instead of remaining entirely within the wagons.
Apparently the rotations were deliberate.
Three different carriages.
Three different decoys.
Different attendants changing places constantly.
Protection through confusion.
Maybe that was all she truly was here, Claire thought quietly as she paused beneath the lantern glow.
A replacement.
One priestess among many veiled women.
A moving secret hidden within trade caravans and shifting identities.
And yet…
No.
That feeling in the crystals had been real.
The dreamscape had not brought her here by accident.
On her return toward the pavilion, Seolhyun slowed slightly near the outer watchfires.
One of the soldiers looked up briefly from where he sat sharpening a blade.
Jiho.
The firelight softened the sharpness of his features, bronze and amber flickering across the dark lines of his armour. Without the rigid posture required during escort duty, he looked younger tonight.
Less like a soldier.
More like the memory of someone she once knew.
Or perhaps someone she had once almost loved in another lifetime entirely.
For a brief moment neither spoke.
Then Jiho inclined his head slightly.
“You should rest, Priestess.”
His voice remained respectful, though quieter now without the others nearby.
“I could say the same for soldiers,” she answered before thinking better of it.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
“Taejin snores loud enough to frighten spirits away. Someone must remain awake.”
As if summoned by insult alone, a loud snort echoed from somewhere behind the nearby carts.
Jiho closed his eyes briefly in resignation.
Claire nearly laughed again.
Dangerous.
Far too dangerous to become comfortable here.
Yet as she returned to the pavilion, she realised something unsettling.
She had begun looking for him already.
Sleep came poorly afterward.
Fragments only.
She dreamed of train stations and neon lights bleeding into temple corridors.
Music layered strangely with ancient prayer chants.
Buddhist bells becoming nightclub basslines.
A dance studio mirrored against mountain shrines.
She remembered her real life so vividly it hurt.
Dance rehearsals.
Modern streets.
Coffee at midnight.
Arguments with her brother over the family business.
The freedom of choosing where to walk and who to become.
And now?
Now she belonged to a caravan crossing ancient kingdoms beneath borrowed stars.
Still, one thought lingered stubbornly beneath all her fear:
If she were captured…
What secrets could she truly reveal?
The real priestess may have carried sacred knowledge worth torture and interrogation.
But Claire?
She carried only fragments of futures not yet born.
Phones.
Electricity.
Films.
Music.
Wars yet to happen.
Centuries of impossible rambling no one here would ever understand.
The irony almost comforted her.
Morning arrived in pale silver light.
The caravan stirred before dawn once more, movement spreading quickly through the camp as tents were dismantled and supply wagons reorganised.
This day Seolhyun walked.
Not openly among the merchants, but along the protected inner lines where soldiers rotated constantly around the priestess escort.
The air felt crisp against her face beneath the veil as the caravan wound through broad mountain roads lined with pines and distant flowering trees.
For the first time since arriving here, she could breathe properly.
Even with the weight of the robes.
Even with the endless supervision.
Freedom existed in motion at least.
Jiho rode horseback nearby for much of the morning, rotating positions with the outer scouts as patrol formations shifted along the hillsides.
Unlike many others, he never fully left the caravan ranks.
Always circling back.
Always returning.
At one point another rider exchanged horses with him before galloping uphill toward the outer watch paths where scouts monitored for bandit movement.
Jiho dismounted afterward and fell naturally into step near the priestess escort.
Not too close.
Never improperly close.
But near enough that she became aware of him constantly.
As though her senses had begun tracking his presence instinctively.
The sunlight caught briefly against the metal fittings of his armour as he glanced sideways toward her beneath the shade of the trees.
And there it was again.
That knowing smile.
That slight smirk like he recognised her somehow beneath all the veils and sacred distance.
Not as priestess.
As person.
Claire lowered her eyes quickly before anyone noticed.
But warmth still bloomed traitorously in her chest.
Different universe.
Different century.
Different destiny.
And somehow fate had still placed a familiar soul in her path.
Maybe 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 of them the caravan bells rang softly as the long procession curved southward toward Silla.
Toward courts and kings.
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 see what came next.
