Return to the Present?

The warm, dry air of the scholar’s study, thick with the scent of aging parchment and something akin to dried herbs, had been a balm to Carter’s frayed nerves. But the scholar’s words, though kindly spoken, had left a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. “The temporal currents are unpredictable, young traveler,” he’d said, his ancient eyes twinkling with an unsettling mix of sympathy and profound knowledge. “A single miscalculation, a tremor in the fabric of what is, and you might find yourself adrift.” Adrift. The word echoed in Carter’s mind, a chilling reminder of his precarious situation.

He clutched the smooth, cool metal of the time-travel device, its familiar weight a small comfort. It had brought him here, to this strange, yet strangely welcoming, past. It had also been the source of his fear, the reason for the hurried goodbyes, the whispered promise to the scholar that he would be careful. “Just a little longer, and I’ll see if I can find my way back,” Carter had pledged, his voice a little too loud, a little too eager. He’d felt the scholar’s gaze on him, a gentle but penetrating observation, and had hurried out, eager to put the scholar’s wisdom