Threshold

The wheels touched down on the tarmac just after dawn, the sky over Avignon still streaked with the last traces of night. The air was cool, damp from recent rain, carrying the scent of wet stone and distant lavender fields. Jessica stepped off the plane and inhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Something about this place felt different.

She had never set foot here before, and yet, she had. Somewhere deep in her mind, she had walked these roads, passed these walls. It wasn’t familiarity, it was memory.

Leanna nudged her shoulder as they moved through the near-empty airport. “You gonna tell us why you scribbled ‘Saint-Rémy’ in your notebook like you had a divine revelation?”

Jessica exhaled, adjusting the strap of her bag. “It came to me in a dream.”

Olivia snorted. “So now we’re chasing divine visions?”

Jessica shot her a look.

Olivia lifted her hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Leanna pulled out her phone, scanning maps. “Saint-Rémy is about twenty kilometers from here. It’s a small town. It’s historical, but not a major tourist spot. We might be able to get there before anyone knows we’re coming.”

Jessica nodded, already moving toward the exit.

They needed a car. And they needed to find out why she had remembered this place.

* * *

The road wound through rolling hills, the vineyards and olive groves stretching in neat rows toward the horizon. The early light cast everything in a golden haze, but Jessica barely saw it.

She kept her eyes on the road, but her mind was somewhere else. Somewhen else. The monastery. The stone halls. The voice that had spoken to her in the dream.

“Then it dies with you.”

She gripped the wheel tighter. She hadn’t told them everything. Not about the voice in the dream. Not about the way the monastery called to her, not like a place, but a memory trying to be born.

Leanna was in the passenger seat, flipping through a local history guide she had picked up at the airport.

“Saint-Rémy isn’t just a random dot on the map,” she murmured. “It’s been around since the Romans. There’s an abandoned monastery on the outskirts. Dates back to the 12th century.”

Jessica’s jaw tightened. “Templar-era.”

Leanna nodded. “Officially, it was abandoned after the Order was disbanded. Unofficially… there are records of monks staying behind, keeping something hidden there.”

Jessica exhaled slowly. “Then that’s where we start.”

Olivia, sprawled in the back seat, let out a dramatic sigh. “Monasteries. Again,” she muttered. “One of these days I want a lead in Venice. With wine. And a bathrobe.”

Jessica smirked faintly. “Feel free to book yourself a suite.”

Olivia muttered something under her breath, but there was no real irritation in it.

They drove in silence for a while after that, the road narrowing as they neared Saint-Rémy. Jessica could feel the weight of something settling over her. A presence. A memory waiting to be unlocked. She wasn’t sure if she was ready. But she had come too far to turn back.

* * *

By the time they reached the outskirts, the morning sun had been swallowed by mist. The monastery rose from the hills like a forgotten ruin, its pale stone worn by centuries of wind and rain. It was still standing, but it felt like a place lost in time.

Jessica killed the engine, letting the silence stretch around them.

Leanna adjusted the gun holster at her hip. “So, are we knocking, or are we breaking in?”

Jessica studied the arched entrance. She didn’t know why, but she had the distinct feeling that someone was already expecting them.