The Women Who Carry Us Across Time
Some stories survive because they are remembered. Others survive because someone carries them.
As I’ve watched readers spend time with The Harbinger, one theme continues to surface - sometimes explicitly, sometimes just beneath the surface - and it isn’t the mystery, or the timelines, or even the mysticism. It’s the relationships between the women. They way they hold one another steady. The way they witness. The way memory seems to move more easily when it has somewhere safe to land.
Female friendship in this story was never meant to be decoration or support. It is the structure that allows the story to exist at all.
Across centuries, the women in The Harbinger don’t simply mirror one another, they carry one another. Through shared dreams, unspoken recognition, and a sense of knowing that doesn’t require explanation, their bonds become the vessel through which memory travels. The past doesn’t arrive as history; it arrives as resonance. As feeling. As something that refuses to be forgotten simply because time has moved on.
This is something women have always understood, even when there wasn’t language for it.
Long before intuition was discussed openly, before memory was studied as anything more than recall, women passed stories, instincts, and truths through relationship. Friendship became a kind of archive, one that didn’t rely on records or permission, but on trust. On presence. On the ability to sit with uncertainty without needing to solve it immediately.
In many ways, that quiet continuity is what allows the story’s dual timelines to feel less like parallel tracks and more like echoes. Time bends not because it’s forced to, but because memory recognies itself. And that recognition almost always happens in community.
February feels like an appropriate moment to reflect on this. Many of the women who inspired these characters, directly or indirectly, share February birthdays. Aquarians by birth. Women who have often lived slightly ahead of their time, who build connection through shared vision rather than convenience, and who understand that belonging doesn’t always look like fitting in. Their friendships are rarely loud, but they are enduring. Less about proximity, more about alignment. I am grateful to these women.
That energy lives quietly in the story. Not as astrology, but as temperament. As women who sense when something is off, who feel responsibility not just to themselves but to one another, and who understand that survival - emotional, spiritual, even physical - is rarely a solitary act.
What I love most is that readers don’t need to name this for it to work. They feel it. They notice that the story doesn’t rush toward answers, that uncertainty is allowed to breathe, that connection matters as much as resolution. That’s intentional. Some stories aren’t meant to be consumed quickly; they’re meant to be held, revisited, and carried forward…much like the friendships at their center.
As this series continues, that thread will remain. The mystery will deepen. Time will stretch. But at the core, it will always return to the same truth: we do not move through lives alone. We are shaped, steadied, and remembered through one another.
And sometimes, the most powerful force in a story isn’t magic or fate or destiny…it’s the women who refuse to let each other disappear.
