Professor Rubenfield leaned in to whisper something to the woman beside her, her eyes never leaving Jack.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. No laughter. No scorn. Just... silence.
Jack plucked his handkerchief from the podium and dabbed at his slick brow before continuing.
“Many cultures worldwide believe in this phenomenon,” he said, shaking but determined. “They wait—generation after generation—for the birth of a Timeborne, someone destined to prove that time travel isn’t just theory, but truth.”
He took a breath.
“The Native Americans say their ancestors witnessed Timebornes—and the evil that followed. The Mayans. The Incas. They all tell stories of a child born during the Eclipsarum Obscura… a child who could slip through the fabric of time with every full moon.”
He wiped sweat from his neck, his hand trembling. Then, barely louder than a whisper, he said, “One last thing. There are two daggers—the Sun and the Moon.”
I bolted upright in my seat, pulse racing. My heart slammed in my chest.
Finally, he said the names. The ones I’d been chasing across continents and cold trails. Not scribbled in ancient margins—but spoken aloud, real, undeniable.
Jack’s voice steadied as he spoke.
“The ancient city of Ugarit descended into chaos during the first recorded solar eclipse. From the shadow, two blades emerged—razor-sharp, glowing with power. These weren’t ordinary weapons. These daggers could pierce through time, anchoring to historical moments and twisting them into something new. With them, time could be rewritten.”
A hush fell over the room.
“If evil were to claim them,” Jack said, “the world would unravel. History would bend to the will of the wielder. Time would no longer belong to fate, but to whoever held the daggers.”
The remaining audience members sat frozen, caught between fascination and disbelief.
Then someone scoffed from the back. “What a crock of drivel, man. You’ve got some nerve calling that a dissertation.”
A few snickers followed.
Jack’s face fell, his hope collapsing behind his eyes. He drew a shaky breath and placed both hands on the podium.
“Thank you for your time,” he said quietly. “That concludes my presentation on time travel and the solar eclipse.”
Not a single hand clapped. No murmurs of interest. Only blank stares and furrowed brows.
I glanced toward the exit, unsure if I should go. But what would that signal to Jack? I needed him. I couldn’t afford to alienate him—not now.
Dr. Wong shifted in his seat and leaned forward.
“Mr. James,” he said with a bemused smirk, “you’ve got quite the imagination. Light and dark, cosmic forces, good versus evil... Tell me, do your Timebornes fly and shoot lasers too?”
Jack bristled. “No, professor. They’re human. Just like you and me.”
Professor Rubenfield folded her arms. “Then where is your proof?”
“I don’t haveproof, Professor,” Jack admitted. “But I have vital research suggesting time travelcouldexist. Someone born during a solar eclipse—during Eclipsarum Obscura—could theoretically time travel.”
“You need proof, Mr. James,” Professor Rubenfield cut in, her tone unflinching. “How can the department board grant you a Ph.D. without tangible evidence? A theory must be supported by credible researchandphysical proof of its legitimacy.”
Jack stared at her, his lips parting. The words came out like gravel, rough and raw. “So… you’re asking me to bring you a Timeborne?”
The room burst into laughter.
Loud, unrestrained guffaws ricocheted off the walls, drowning out everything else. The sound pierced the air like jagged glass, slicing Jack’s composure.
“That’sexactlywhat we’re asking,” Dr. Wong smirked. “You talk a lot, Jack. But without validation, all you’ve done today is turn yourself into a joke.”
