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A word before the story continues:
You can find the previous part behind these blue words.

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Chapter Four

The steady clatter of bread knives and the soft rustling of paper filled the bakery as Lily’s father served customers one by one. The regulars offered smiles and pleasantries as he handed over fresh loaves, pastries and pies, their scents filling the small shop. Lily, meanwhile, was focused on her cakes, brow furrowed as she piped one last spiral of cream on top, making sure each swirl was just the right height and angle.

The bell above the door jingled and Lily glanced up briefly, then quickly turned her attention back to her work. She hadn't needed to look up to know who it was.

“Afternoon, oh esteemed Cake Master!” Sammy’s voice called out. “I have arrived to sample your latest and greatest creations.”

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at her lips. “Not today, Sammy. I have to get these perfect — you know how important they are.” She didn’t look up, her hands steady as she carefully dotted each cake with tiny, delectable caveberries.

Sammy let out a mournful sigh and leaned against the counter, close enough to peer over her shoulder but not close enough to interfere. “Come on, just one bite,” he teased, leaning closer, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I’ll bet they’re amazing. Perfect, even. What’s one little taste test gonna hurt?”

“Not happening,” Lily replied firmly. “The Curator isn’t paying for taste tests, and he certainly won’t be pleased to find a bite missing from one of his cakes.”

She was determined to keep her concentration, but Sammy kept leaning closer, feigning a dramatic inspection of her handiwork. “I don’t know… that one’s looking a little lopsided. Maybe I could—“

Lily huffed out a laugh, trying to maintain her focus but finding it hard not to get drawn into his antics. “Did you get a scolding this morning, too? Or am I the only lucky one?”

Sammy’s eyes glinted with mock indignation. “A scolding? From my mother? Never! I’m her angel.” He paused, then flashed her a sheepish smile. “Okay. Maybe I got a little talking-to. But I just blame it all on you, so you know… smooth sailing, so they say.”

Lily shot him a glare, though it was softened by a grin.

“Of course you did. And here I thought you were the one leading me into trouble.”

Sammy straightened up and struck a pose.

“Trouble? Me? Please.”

Lily giggled despite herself. It was always like this with Sammy — he could make light of any situation, even when she was on the brink of falling apart. And right now, she needed every ounce of distraction he could offer.

“Sammy!” Her father’s voice boomed good-naturedly from behind the counter, and Lily’s head snapped up in surprised.

He was smiling but there was an unmistakable firmness in his eyes. “Away with you,” he said, waving a flour-covered hand toward the door. “You’re not causing trouble in my bakery today — Lily has serious business to attend to.”

Sammy straightened up and gave a mock salute.

“Yes, sir!” he said, shooting Lily a wink as he stepped back. “Good luck, Lily. You’ll knock the Curator’s socks off.”

Lily just shook her head, a small giggle escaping her lips as Sammy backed away toward the door, his antics always a welcome break from the pressure she felt. But she couldn’t let herself get distracted. Not today.

As Sammy left, the bell jingling behind him, Lily’s father chuckled and leaned over the counter to get a better look at the cakes. “He’s right, you know,” he said, his voice warm and full of pride. “You’ve done a wonderful job. Now, finish up. The Curator’s waiting.”

Lily’s heart swelled at the compliment and she couldn’t help but beam as she removed her apron. For just a moment, she felt like the baker she was supposed to be — reliable, talented, the pride of her family. But then, just as quickly as the warmth had filled her, a chill settled back in. Her mother had been absent all morning — locked away in her room for hours, too upset to step out and face the day. The door had stayed closed, the usual sharp reprimands and reminders of what needed to be done replaced by an unnerving silence that hung heavy over the bakery. All because of her.

Forcing herself to focus on future possibilities and not her mother’s anger, she gingerly placed each cake onto a silver platter then encased them with an ornate glass lid — it was a special transportation tray that had been gifted to the bakery the last time they’d baked cakes for the Museum. One day, she hoped to find something similar while sifting through the surface’s rubble and debris. Maybe, by that time, her mother would be happier.

Lily’s chest tightened as she carefully grabbed her satchel and slung it across her shoulder. The camera and pictures were sealed inside ready for the Curator to admire, but the weight of it was palpable, as if all her fears and the argument with her mother had been packed inside with them.

“Dad?” she asked, turning back to him, needing his reassurance more than ever.

He looked up from the counter and smiled softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, Lily,” he said. “The Curator won’t be able to ignore your find, and your mother… she’ll come around. I promise.”

Lily nodded, trying to swallow down the knot of worry that was crawling up her throat. “Thanks,” she whispered, the word almost sticking in her mouth.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, and with that, Lily turned back to the cake tray and readied herself for what lay ahead.

Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her satchel and wheeled the tray out of the bakery and into the street. The city’s cool, musty air hit her like a slap, but she kept her eyes forward, pushing the cart ahead of her as the wheels rattled over the rough stone. The underground city was bustling, but Lily felt like she was moving in slow motion. Her surroundings were a blur — traders shouted over one another to sell the freshest produce, silk moth cocoons were piled high in several carts, and there were children playing tag in the narrow alleyways. All of it seemed insignificant to the weight of the camera resting against her hip.

Before she knew it, she was standing before the great Museum. It rose out of the stone like a monolith, its pillars carved with symbols of the surface. The great metal doors, twice her height and embellished with delicate engravings of trees and animals, seemed to shimmer under the dim city lights.

Lily paused for a moment, staring up at the majestic entrance. She had dreamed of walking through those doors for something more than a simple delivery, more than a simple visit, and now she was on the cusp of it.

Briefly closing her eyes, she rehearsed her words.

‘Sir, I’ve discovered something important…’

‘Sir, I found something on the surface… a camera… it still works…’

The words fell apart before they could come together. She was going to make a fool of herself, wasn’t she? The thought made her stomach churn but she couldn’t let it stop her. The cakes, sitting neatly on their silver tray, weren’t just a delicacy but an opportunity. She had to take it.

Angling the cart so that she could push herself backwards through the great doors, a soft, reverent hush welcomed Lily, a stark change from the constant din outside. It felt like a different world, the chatter of the city fading as the grand hall swallowed her up. Rows upon rows of relics stood on pedestals or rested in glass cases, all carefully labelled and preserved by the Curators. Tools from the old world. Devices whose purposes had been long forgotten. Clothing worn by the people of ages past, now faded and frayed.

As she pushed the cart through the hall the air felt cooler, heavier, as if weighed down by the mysteries hidden within the artifacts. She passed by an ancient mechanical clock, its gears still turning slowly, winding away in eternal silence. Her eyes lingered on the pictures lining the walls — yellowing pieces of glossy paper that showcased the ancients during their unimaginable glory. And then, there it was: the camera.

The broken device sat inside a glass case in front of the pictures, its body cracked and lens shattered. Lily stopped in front of it, her breath catching in her throat. This was the one she had seen so many times before, but in her possession was one that worked. For a moment, the gravity of that truth overwhelmed her.

A throat cleared behind her.

Surprised by the sudden noise, Lily spun around to find the Curator himself standing there, tall and imposing, with an air of quiet authority that befit the one in charge of their city — of their lives. Despite his stern demeanour, he had a faint smile on his lips as he eyed the cakes on her cart.

“Ah,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “The cakes have arrived. The researchers will be pleased.” He paused, running his eyes over the platter. “They do look especially delectable today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lily replied, dipping her head as the words trembled on her lips.

The Curator’s eyes drifted from the cakes to Lily, and then to the glass case she had been staring at. “I see you’ve found an interest in our old artifacts,” he mused, studying the broken camera. “A fascinating piece of history, that one. It was brought down here by the first generation to have traversed these walls. A pity it was broken beyond repair…” his voice trailed off.

Lily’s heart raced. The world around her seemed to close in, narrowing down to this one moment. The satchel strap dug into her shoulder and she clutched the bag like a lifeline. If there was ever a more perfect moment… there would never be a more perfect moment.

“Sir,” she began, her voice wavering. She cleared her throat, a flush reddening her cheeks as he returned his steely gaze to her. “Sir,” she repeated, firmer this time. “I think I’ve found something. Something… like that… only… it works…”

The Curator’s expression tightened immediately. His eyes snapped to hers, narrowing with suspicion. The shift in his demeanour was so abrupt that Lily stepped backward, a knot of fear in her throat as the corner of a display case poked sharply into her back.

“Where did you find it?” The Curator’s voice lost its warmth, becoming calculating, almost cold.

Lily’s mouth felt dry, her pulse pounding her ears. “O—on the… surface,” she stammered. “I found it on the surface.”

For a moment, his expression darkened, displeasure etched across his features as he studied her closely, scrutinising every word and gesture. Lily’s confidence wavered. She had overstepped. Her father had been wrong. The Curator was not happy! Her heart dropped like a stone in her chest. She had dared step outside the boundaries of their world, and now she was going to be punished for her disobedience.

Then, the Curator’s eyes flickered down to her satchel, and his gaze softened. He looked… intrigued. Fascinated. And then, to her relief, a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the weight of what she’d said seemed to settle over him.

“Show me.”

Lily fumbled with her satchel, her hands trembling as she unlatched the clasp and carefully pulled out the camera, cradling it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. She laid it gently atop the display, alongside the glossy pictures of her and Sammy, forever frozen in time.

The Curator’s eyes widened as he took in the sight. He picked up one of the pictures, holding it gingerly between a thumb and finger as he inspected it. “By the stars,” he whispered. “It’s you… it’s a real photograph!”

Lily’s breath hitched as she found her voice, the exhilaration making her words tumble out in a breathless rush. “Yes! It still works. It takes pictures… like these. I thought you’d want to see…”

The Curator remained fixated on the camera, his eyes tracing the device’s smooth edges, his fingers running over the buttons and lever. For a moment, it seemed as though he had forgotten Lily was even there. She held her breath, every muscle in her body taut as she watched him.

Finally, he raised his eyes and looked at her. Instead of saying anything directly, he turned and called over one of the Museum’s attendants, who appeared immediately at his side as if summoned from thin air.

“Take the cakes to the researchers,” the Curator said, gesturing to the cart. “Tell them I’ll be with them soon.” His voice was measured, and the assistant nodded quickly before wheeling the cart away, the scent of sweet, warm cakes fading as they disappeared around a corner.

Lily stood frozen on the spot, waiting — wondering if she should say something, if there was more she needed to do to convince him of the camera’s value. But as the Curator turned back toward her, his expression softened, contemplative, his eyes holding hers in a way that felt strangely intimate, as if he were searching for something deeper. It felt like an eternity as he stared at her in silence and she struggled to hold his gaze. Was the man angry? What was he thinking? Was he about to send for the guardsmen and have her taken away?

“Come to my office tomorrow,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his focus instead turning back to the camera, but Lily could hear the weight of his words, the gravity of what was to come. “After lunch. We’ll have more to discuss then.”

The instruction felt surreal, almost dreamlike, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled from her mouth. “I—I’m not in trouble?” she blurted. “For going to the surface?”

The Curator’s lips curved into a smile — a small, enigmatic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I think,” he said slowly, as though measuring each word, “we can make an exception for something as extraordinary as this.” He lifted the camera slightly, as if to emphasise its importance. “Tomorrow. I’ll be waiting.”

And just like that, he turned away, the camera still cradled delicately in his hands, and walked back toward the inner depths of the Museum, leaving Lily standing alone amidst the artifacts and relics of the past.

For a long moment, she didn’t move, the weight of the encounter crashing over her like a wave. Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face, and her heart lifted with a thrill of excitement that carried her out the Museum doors. She couldn’t wait to tell her father all about the Curator’s reaction — the amazement in his voice, the way he had praised her discovery. And Sammy! And Xander — she wouldn’t have to hide anything anymore.

Lily practically ran back through the bustling streets, the satchel still pressed tightly against her side, feeling lighter than she had in her entire life.

She rounded a corner and suddenly stumbled over her own feet, the thought of the Curator’s narrowed eyes and that smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes making her falter. Was he really going to make an exception? His reaction had been so… strange. Like he was both displeased and fascinated all at once. Surely there was going to be a guardsman waiting in his office tomorrow, ready to escort her to a dungeon or some equally terrifying fate. Her heart leaped into her throat, and she forced away the creeping feeling of doom. If she was going to be arrested, he would have done it right then and there — wouldn’t he?

The future awaited and she was standing at the brink of it. She had so many questions, so many doubts, but she clung to one certainty: tomorrow would come, and with it, its own answers.