Two months after that, Celestia found herself studying reports of temple knight activities with particular interest. Their unusual patrol patterns had changed recently, focusing on areas where mysterious creatures had been sighted. The crystal lamps in her study cast steady light over her maps, highlighting routes that seemed increasingly familiar.
"Young miss," Clara entered, her expression intriguing as her water magic carried fresh intelligence. "The temple knights stopped another creature attack last night. Witnesses say one knight used... unusual techniques. Fighting styles no one's seen before."
Celestia's heart quickened, though she maintained her restaurant owner's calm facade. The crystal formations pulsed gently with her controlled excitement. "Where?"
"The eastern district. But that's not all." Clara's water magic swirled excitedly. "He protected a group of children using methods that reminded people of... sports games. Something called 'basketball' movements?"
The reference to her previous world was unmistakable. Alex had loved basketball, often incorporating those moves into his self-defense training. The crystal lamps seemed to brighten with her recognition, though she kept her expression neutral.
"Did you get a description?" Celestia asked carefully, adjusting her brown hair—today's chosen disguise—with practiced ease.
"Young, well-respected among the knights. They call him Sir Adrian." Clara's water magic formed patterns that mapped his patrol routes, each one drawing closer to The Rising Phoenix. "The interesting part is how he organized the evacuation. He used terms from another world—'formations' and 'plays' that confused his fellow knights but worked perfectly."
Later that evening, wearing her information-gathering disguise, Celestia visited the eastern district. The area showed signs of recent battle—scorched walls and scattered debris still being cleared by city workers. But something else caught her attention: the pattern of the defensive positions matched Alex's preferred strategy games perfectly, like a signature written in tactical choices.
"The creatures are getting bolder," James reported, returning from his own reconnaissance. The crystal lamps cast long shadows across his serious expression. "But the interesting part is how this Sir Adrian organized the evacuation. He used terms like 'zone defense' and 'full-court press'—phrases that made his fellow knights exchange confused looks but somehow worked flawlessly."
Celestia touched High Priest Thomas's letter in her pocket, its presence suddenly more significant. Perhaps it was time to open it.
Back at The Rising Phoenix, now wearing her restaurant owner's appearance, she overheard nobles discussing the temple knights' latest victory. The crystal lamps cast intimate shadows over their private dining room as their conversation drifted up.
"Sir Adrian's methods are unusual but effective," one lord commented, swirling wine in a crystal glass. "Though some say he sometimes speaks strangely, using words no one understands."
"Like that new restaurant owner," his companion replied, gesturing toward Celestia. "Have you noticed how some of her dishes have unusual names? Foreign terms..."
Celestia served their wine with a practiced smile, but her mind raced. She'd been unconsciously using terms from her previous life in her menu descriptions—'Crawford Special' and other dishes named from memories she couldn't quite let go. The crystal formations above seemed to pulse with understanding, their light catching the moment's significance.
That night, in her true form, she finally opened the high priest's letter. Inside, beyond the expected information about her saintess identity, was a brief note that made her hands tremble slightly:
"Some souls find each other across lives. When you're ready, visit the Temple of Dawn during morning prayers. Watch for the knight who moves like memory."
The crystal lamps flickered with her emotion, casting dancing shadows across the carefully written words.
"Clara," Celestia called softly, her silver-blonde hair catching the evening light. "Tomorrow, we'll need to adjust our information gathering. Focus on the Temple of Dawn."
"And your other identities, young miss?" Clara's water magic swirled with protective concern.
"Maintain them carefully." Celestia watched the city lights below, thinking of another skyline from another life. "We're not the only ones carrying memories of another world."
In her rooftop garden, where impossible grape vines thrived in the autumn air, she studied the night sky. Elizabeth Crawford had lost her brother once. Celestia Blackwood might have found him again.
But first, she needed to be certain. And she needed to be ready.
After all, in both lives, timing had always been everything.