The streets of Pompeii were alive with activity as Elias and Marcus made their way through the ancient city. Morning sunlight spilled across stone buildings painted in vivid reds, blues, and yellows—colors far more vibrant than the faded remnants archaeologists would uncover centuries ter. The cobblestone streets, worn smooth by generations of sandaled feet, were already bustling with merchants, sves, and citizens going about their daily business.

  "Stay close," Marcus murmured, though his warning was unnecessary. Despite being invisible to the inhabitants, they'd quickly discovered that Romans would unconsciously move around them, as if sensing an obstacle without actually perceiving it. "The yout is roughly gridlike, but there are a lot of blind corners."

  Elias nodded, his eyes darting everywhere, taking in details that would have made his colleagues weep with envy. "The city follows a traditional Roman urban pn—cardo and decumanus streets intersecting at right angles. We're currently on what will ter be called the Via dell'Abbondanza, one of the main commercial streets."

  A young woman carrying a cy amphora passed directly beside them, close enough that Elias could smell the vender oil in her hair. The sensation was dizzying—not merely observing history but being immersed in it with nearly all his senses.

  "That's the forum ahead," Elias indicated a rge open space at the end of the street where crowds had gathered. "The political and commercial center of the city. If there are public records about unusual phenomena, they might be stored in one of the administrative buildings there."

  Marcus surveyed the area with the practiced eye of a tactical specialist. "Too crowded. We'll stand out if people keep unconsciously avoiding us—it'll look like a clear path cutting through the crowd."

  "Excellent point," Elias conceded, impressed by Marcus's foresight. "We should stick to less poputed areas. Many wealthy Romans maintained private libraries in their homes. The Vil of the Mysteries on the city's outskirts is known to have had an extensive collection, though it's most famous for its frescos depicting initiation into the cult of Dionysus."

  "Cult rituals and mysterious symbols," Marcus said dryly. "Sounds promising."

  They adjusted their course, moving toward the northwestern edge of the city. As they walked, Elias provided a running commentary on Roman society that was far more engaging than Marcus had expected.

  "See how those men are dressed?" Elias nodded toward a group of citizens in pristine white togas with purple borders. "The purple stripe—tus cvus—identifies them as senators. The width of the stripe indicates their rank. And notice how everyone steps aside to let them pass? Social hierarchy was visibly encoded in every aspect of Roman appearance."

  "Reminds me of military insignia," Marcus observed. "Practical. You know someone's rank at a gnce."

  They passed a small group of soldiers in formation, their armor gleaming in the sunlight. Marcus slowed his pace, studying their movements with professional interest.

  "Roman legionaries," Elias expined. "Probably part of the garrison from the naval base at Misenum. They're performing testudo formation drills—the 'tortoise' technique where shields create a protective barrier from all sides."

  "Effective against arrows and projectiles," Marcus noted, "but vulnerable to heavy impact weapons." He watched a moment longer. "Their discipline is impressive."

  Something in Marcus's tone caught Elias's attention. "You sound almost admiring."

  "Professional respect," Marcus replied. "Their tactical formations are still studied in modern military academies. The Romans understood that strict discipline and coordinated movement could overcome superior numbers." He gestured to the precise way the soldiers moved in unison. "Every man knows exactly where he should be and what he's responsible for. It's beautiful, in its way."

  Elias studied Marcus with newfound interest. He'd never considered military formations in aesthetic terms, yet Marcus clearly saw something there that transcended mere violence—a complex system of mutual reliance and coordinated purpose.

  "I suppose that's why schors still study Roman military techniques alongside their art and literature," Elias offered. "Systems that effectively organize human cooperation have their own kind of elegance."

  Marcus gave him a sideways gnce, as if surprised by Elias's understanding. "Exactly. It's not about the fighting—it's about the trust. Each man protecting the others while doing his part."

  They continued toward the Vil of the Mysteries, passing through neighborhoods that transitioned from commercial to increasingly residential. The homes grew rger and more ornate, with eborate entrance gates and inner courtyards visible through occasional open doors.

  "The Romans essentially lived inside-out compared to modern Western homes," Elias expined as they paused to look at a particurly grand residence. "Public spaces faced the street, while family quarters were arranged around interior gardens and courtyards. Privacy was a luxury afforded only to the wealthy."

  "And no windows facing the street," Marcus observed. "Good security design."

  "Cultural privacy norms, actually, but the security benefits were likely appreciated."

  As they approached the outskirts of the city, the ground beneath them trembled slightly—a brief, almost imperceptible shudder. Marcus instantly pced a steadying hand on Elias's arm, his body tensing.

  "Just a minor tremor," Elias said, though his voice betrayed his concern. "Completely normal for this region."

  "Normal until it isn't," Marcus replied darkly, his gaze turning toward Vesuvius in the distance. The mountain appeared unchanged, peaceful against the clear blue sky. "How much warning will there be before the main eruption?"

  "According to Pliny's account, the mountain projected a cloud 'like an umbrel pine' before ash began to fall. After that..." Elias swallowed. "Hours, not days, until pyrocstic flows reach the city."

  Marcus nodded grimly. "Then we'd better hurry."

  The Vil of the Mysteries stood apart from the city proper, an impressive estate surrounded by garden walls. Its name originated from the mysterious ritual scenes depicted in its frescos, but would not be coined until its excavation in the modern era. To its contemporary inhabitants, it was simply the country estate of a wealthy family.

  "How do we get in?" Marcus asked, assessing the walls.

  "The front gate seems the simplest approach," Elias replied. "Remember, we can pass through crowds with minimal notice, and this is a rge household. Servants and clients would be coming and going regurly."

  They approached the main entrance, where a household sve was screening visitors. As predicted, they slipped past without incident, though the sve gnced confusedly at the space they occupied for a moment before returning to his duties.

  The interior of the vil was even more impressive than its exterior suggested. A rge atrium with a central impluvium—a sunken pool that collected rainwater—formed the main reception area. Colorful frescos adorned the walls, depicting mythological scenes in vivid detail. Beyond the atrium y a peristyle garden surrounded by columns, where fountains burbled pleasantly amid carefully tended pnts.

  "The library would likely be adjacent to the tablinum—the master's office," Elias whispered, though there was no need for stealth. "This way."

  They navigated through the vil, passing household sves busy with their duties and family members lounging in the garden. A distinguished older man in a richly decorated toga sat dictating correspondence to a scribe in a small room off the peristyle—the master of the household conducting his morning business.

  Beyond this room, they found what they were seeking—a chamber lined with niches containing scrolls carefully arranged and beled with small tags. A separate cabinet held writing implements: pens, inkwells, and sheets of papyrus.

  "Amazing," Elias breathed, approaching the collection with reverence. "A private library of this size represents extraordinary wealth. Each scroll had to be copied by hand."

  "Focus, professor," Marcus reminded him. "We're looking for information about the symbol or simir phenomena, not admiring their book collection."

  "Of course," Elias agreed, already scanning the bels. "The challenge will be finding relevant texts without drawing attention by moving scrolls while people are present."

  Fortunately, the library was currently unoccupied. Elias carefully examined the collection, selecting scrolls whose bels suggested content reted to astronomy, natural phenomena, or religious mysteries.

  "This will take time," he warned, gently unrolling the first scroll. "I'll need to skim each one for relevant information."

  Marcus nodded, positioning himself near the entrance. "I'll keep watch. If someone comes, we'll have to pause."

  Hours passed as Elias methodically worked through the collection. Marcus alternated between standing guard and circuting through the vil to get a better sense of its yout and potential escape routes. Each time he returned, he reported more signs of volcanic activity—additional minor tremors, a faint smell of sulfur on the breeze, steam vents visible on the distant mountain—all dismissed by the vil's inhabitants as ordinary occurrences.

  Late in the afternoon, as shadows lengthened across the peristyle garden, Elias looked up from a scroll with excitement in his eyes.

  "I found something," he said, gesturing Marcus closer.

  The scroll contained a collection of astronomical observations and predictions, interspersed with more mystical interpretations. Elias pointed to a specific passage written in careful Latin script.

  "Can you read it?" Marcus asked.

  "Of course. It says: 'In the seventy-ninth year of our current era, when Venus aligns with Mars in the house of Mercury, the boundaries between worlds shall thin. The astral travelers—those who walk between times—may appear as visions to those with sight beyond sight.'"

  Marcus frowned. "Sounds like astrological nonsense."

  "Perhaps," Elias conceded, "but it specifically mentions travelers between times, and dates it to 79 CE—this year. And look at this illustration."

  At the bottom of the passage was a small drawing—a circur symbol comprised of interlocking geometric patterns surrounding a central star-like shape. Though not identical to the symbol they'd activated in Egypt, the simirities were unmistakable.

  "It's reted to our symbol," Elias said excitedly. "This references the 'Temple of Apollo' as the pce where the boundaries are thinnest when the celestial alignment occurs."

  "Pompeii has a Temple of Apollo, doesn't it?" Marcus asked.

  "Yes, near the forum. One of the oldest structures in the city, dating back to its pre-Roman period." Elias carefully rolled the scroll and returned it to its niche. "According to this text, the symbol should be there, possibly only visible under specific conditions."

  As they prepared to leave the library, a male voice speaking Latin echoed from the peristyle. Marcus instinctively moved into a defensive position, though the precaution was unnecessary given their invisibility.

  The vil's master entered, accompanied by a younger man in schorly attire. They were deep in conversation, oblivious to the time travelers' presence.

  "The tremors grow more frequent, Gaius," the younger man was saying. "The augurs cim it is an ill omen."

  "Superstitious nonsense," the older man replied dismissively. "Campania has always experienced earth tremors. The mountain has stood watch over our city since before our grandfathers' time."

  They paused at the entrance to the library, and for a terrible moment, Elias feared they would enter and discover the disturbed scrolls. Instead, they continued past, their voices fading as they moved deeper into the vil.

  "They have no idea what's coming," Elias whispered, a profound sadness in his voice.

  "And we can't warn them," Marcus reminded him gently but firmly. "Even if we could make them see or hear us, evacuating a city of twenty thousand people in ancient times would be impossible. Most wouldn't believe the warning anyway."

  Elias nodded, accepting the cruel reality of their situation. They slipped out of the library and made their way back through the vil toward the exit, each lost in thought.

  As they passed through the peristyle garden, they witnessed a simple domestic scene: a woman reading poetry aloud to two young children seated on cushions beside a fountain. Her voice was melodious, the Latin flowing beautifully as she recited verses about love and longing. The children listened attentively, occasionally giggling at particur phrases.

  "What's she reading?" Marcus asked quietly as they paused, watching the scene.

  "Ovid's love poetry, I think," Elias answered, listening carefully. "Yes, from the Amores. It's... quite risqué for children, actually, but Romans had different sensibilities about such things."

  Marcus watched the family scene, his expression unreadable. "Can you transte a bit?"

  The request surprised Elias, but he nodded, listening to the woman's recitation. "Iam super oceanum venit, a seniore marito," she read, her voice expressive and warm.

  "'Now she comes, across the ocean, from her elderly husband,'" Elias transted softly. "It's about Aurora, goddess of dawn, leaving her old husband to bring morning light to the world."

  He continued, matching the rhythm of the woman's recitation: "'In what bed, rosy Dawn, could you have lingered so long? From what husband's embrace did you come, your limbs rexed with joy?'"

  Marcus listened intently, his eyes never leaving the family scene. "It's beautiful," he said finally. "I never took you for a poetry enthusiast."

  "Languages are my primary expertise, but literature and poetry provide essential context," Elias expined. "They reveal how people understood their world, their values, their emotional ndscape."

  The woman finished her recitation to the delighted appuse of her children, then gathered them up for their afternoon meal. As they left the garden, Elias and Marcus resumed their journey toward the vil's exit.

  "We should head to the Temple of Apollo tomorrow morning," Elias suggested as they passed once more through the main gate. "Based on the text, that's where we'll find our way to the next flow."

  "Agreed," Marcus said, then added with uncharacteristic gentleness, "You did good work today, professor."

  The unexpected praise caught Elias off guard. "Thank you," he replied, unable to keep a note of pleased surprise from his voice.

  They made their way back toward the city center, where they pnned to find an empty building to shelter in for the night. As they walked, Vesuvius loomed in the distance, still peaceful but now carrying an ominous presence in their minds. The knowledge of what was to come hung between them, creating a shared burden that, despite the dangers ahead, made them feel less alone than when they'd arrived.