Twin Keys to the Celestial Scroll

Sophia’s heart hammered with the weight of four emperors, until the smell of sizzling bacon and buttery toast drifted down the corridor, tugging her from the maze of history, she had been unravelling since dawn. Her stomach growled in protest—loudly. “Oh no… breakfast!” Hugging her arms for warmth, she darted barefoot down the polished hallways toward the dining area. When she arrived, the others were already halfway through their breakfast—Viktor chewing with enthusiasm, Valeria sipping tea while reading from her journal, and Ruby nestled beneath the table, her head resting first on Viktor’s knee, then on Valeria’s, patiently waiting for a tasty bite. “There you are, Sophia,” Grace said with a grin. “We were about to send out a search party—or a bacon rescue mission.” “You’re late,” said Verity, sliding a plate toward her. “But saved by the toast—Mrs Lore left apricot jam.” Sophia sat quickly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Wait till you hear what I found.” She leaned forward, eyes alight—but her fingers curled beneath the edge of her plate. What if this was one of those moments when she said too much too fast? She glanced at Honour, then at Valeria, searching for silent reassurance. “I figured it out. The phrase in the scroll—‘the one who was and is not’? It’s Domitian.” Valeria looked up, intrigued. “But… didn’t he come later?” “That’s the thing,” Sophia said, grabbing her fork. “He held the title of Caesar twice. First, before Vespasian officially took the throne, Mucianus—his general—put Domitian forward to calm the chaos. He was Caesar, then years later, after Vespasian and Titus died, Domitian became Caesar again.” Verity raised an eyebrow. “So he was Caesar, and then wasn’t… and then was again?” Sophia nodded eagerly. “Exactly.” But even as she spoke, a quiet knot twisted in her stomach. What if she was wrong? What if Honour clung to her words like truth and followed a path that wasn’t correct? Valeria opened her mouth, then faltered. The words lodged behind her teeth. She dropped her gaze to her journal instead, letting the silence close over Sophia’s bold theory. Viktor swallowed a bite of eggs. “But I thought Titus was Caesar?” “Yes,” Sophia said. “Titus ruled with his father while Jerusalem still stood. His reign was part of the final campaign. Vespasian sent him to gather his army and finish the war against Jerusalem before Vespasian returned to Rome.” She added slowly, “So that means those first five kings ruled before the destruction of Jerusalem.” She paused, eyes wide. “That’s a long time ago! Nero was the fifth. Vespasian was the sixth and he ruled with his son, Titus, who finished the war. Then Titus continued to reign for two years as the seventh king after the death of Vespasian.” “And Domitian,” she finished, “is the eighth—but only after the Temple was destroyed. So he’s not part of that original seven. That’s the twist.” Honour blinked, toast hovering near her mouth. “Wait—so… Domitian was Caesar, then wasn’t, then became Caesar again? But if he was Caesar twice… doesn’t that make him a king both times?” The table fell quiet. Viktor glanced at Sophia, then back at Honour. “That’s the puzzle, isn’t it? Dusting crumbs from his lap, he continued, “This is definitely the kind of puzzle Mrs Lore would love. I bet she is enjoying every minute of it.” Then, sliding more apricot jam across his toast, he added with mock gravity, “Apricot wins again. Even during prophetic breakthroughs, marmalade stays in exile.” As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, the grandfather clock chimed. They all froze. “Oh no,” whispered Valeria. Verity groaned. “She’s going to be waiting.” A symphony of scraping chairs followed as they bolted from the room—napkins fluttering, toast half-eaten, Ruby barking behind them with joyous confusion. They burst into the Quantum Parlor breathless and dishevelled, only to find Mrs Lore seated serenely in her armchair, tea in hand and eyes twinkling. “We have the answer, Mrs Lore,” Honour proclaimed, jumping in her excitement. “Well now,” Mrs Lore responded, with a patient sip. “There must be a rather marvellous theory brewing to make philosophers out of you and late arrivals to their time of learning.” Sophia stepped forward. “We think we’ve discovered when Yochanan wrote his scrolls—and it all starts with Domitian.” Mrs Lore set down her teacup. “Well then,” she said with a secret smile, “what is it about Domitian that has turned time travellers into thunderclaps this morning?” Sophia pressed her sketchbook to her chest as if it were a treasure map. “We think he’s the hinge—the one Yochanan was speaking about when he wrote, ‘who was and is not.’” Mrs Lore’s brows arched slightly. “And how does that help us date Yochanan’s scroll?” Sophia’s gaze met hers. “Because if Domitian’s brief visibility as Caesar ended when Vespasian arrived, then the phrase ‘is not’ must describe what came next—that narrow window when he had held the title but disappeared from view.” Valeria chimed in, flipping to a dog-eared note. “That would place the scroll’s writing after Vespasian arrived in Rome… but before Titus started his siege on Jerusalem.” “Because Titus was already gathering the legions,” Verity added. “And that would make Titus,” Grace said softly, “the seventh king.” Mrs Lore nodded slowly. “And Yochanan’s scroll does speak of a seventh—one who remains only a little while.” Sophia continued along the line of Mrs Lore’s thought, “Titus reigned for only two years after his father died.” Viktor leaned forward. “And the eighth? That’s Domitian,” he said. “After Titus died, Domitian became emperor—but not as one of the seven kings because Jerusalem was destroyed before then.” Honour’s brow furrowed, her voice quiet but insistent. “But if Domitian was Caesar… doesn’t that make him a king? Why wouldn’t the first time he was Caesar count?” Mrs Lore turned to the group. “Who would like to answer Honour’s question?”