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I lift their joined hands and kiss Theo’s knuckles first, then Ezra’s.

The photo looks down on the spring from an angle Ezra never had. Roots curve beneath chalk lines that weren’t visible in person. My photographed self stands at the edge. Theo stands behind me. Ezra appears half in the water, his outline split by the clear current.

I can’t manage words for a long moment.

My science brain wants to break this down by categories until I solve the problem. I give my brain what I know: the hidden current follows an older water route. Ezra’s camera recorded structures and markings we couldn’t see. The marks repeat shapes we’ve already found on the route stone and Love Stone. Ezra changed more dramatically at the spring than anywhere else. What we don’t know: what the symbols mean, why the camera sees them, or why Ezra reacts to these places.

Usually, I’m all about the possibilities of uncertainty. Right now, the uncertainty hurts my brain. Was it the artifact that caused this distortion? A reflection? An exposure error? Maybe an environmental trigger? Possibly a stress response? My omega instincts are pushing me to climb into Theo’s lap, pull Ezra with me, and refuse to let any force in the world rearrange us again.

Both parts of me are tired.

Ezra taps the screen, careful not to smear it. “Look at the chalk.”

The curve behind my photographed hand is open toward the water, the same style as the route stone. But another faint mark sits behind Theo, heavier and closed on one side. Between the two, the current cuts through Ezra’s body in a bright line.

“The older markers keep doing the same thing,” I say. “There is loose cloth, open chalk lines, and ash placed where water can carry it away. Everything points outward or moves with the current.”

I tap the photos from the east chain and Larkspur. “The newer versions reverse that. They use tight knots with closed marks and materials fixed in place instead of released.”

Theo watches me. “And this?”

I look at the spring photo again. “I think we’re looking at two versions of the same system. One opens. One holds.”

The words settle over the table.

Ezra rubs his thumb over Theo’s hand. “The alpha in the vision wanted to go after her, but he stopped.”

Theo tenses.

“You wanted to come after me,” Ezra says. “And you stopped too.”

Theo’s expression twists with fear. “It felt like I was letting you go.”

“But I still felt you.”

I reach for my notebook and pull it closer. My pen hovers over the page while I choose my words. I write slowly, reducing the photograph to what we can actually prove.

Open mark behind me. Closed mark behind Theo. Moving water through Ezra.

I look at the screen again. “The marks aren’t scattered around the spring.”

Ezra leans closer.

Pointing to the first one, I say, “The open symbol is positioned behind the omega.” I point at the second. “The closed one is behind the alpha.” My finger moves to the bright current splitting his photographed body. “And the beta is standing in moving water.”

Theo’s gaze sharpens. “You think where we were standing matters?”

“Maybe.” I write two more words in my notebook. Position language.

Ezra turns toward me. “Like composition?”

“Exactly. The symbols may not just tell someone where to travel. They may tell each person where to stand or what role to take once they get there.”

Ezra leans his head against my shoulder. “So how do we find out whether that’s what the marks mean?”

I look at the Love Stone scan beside the spring photograph. The same curved lines appear on both, but Heritage Hall labeled the carving decorative. “Heritage Hall.”

Theo’s face clouds with concern.