Chapter 1: “The Shifting Canvas”
The gallery was always empty, its forgotten halls echoing with a silence that felt almost alive. Elena had wandered in by accident, the sign outside barely legible under the layers of dust that clung to the windows. She wasn’t sure why she had come in; it wasn’t like her to be drawn to places like this. But something in the air today had tugged her, almost beckoning her forward.
Her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as she moved past rows of paintings. Some were landscapes of long-lost worlds, others portraits of people whose names had faded into history. None of them seemed to matter, not until she reached the one at the end of the hall.
There it was, large and imposing, framed in dark, ornate wood. The painting depicted a soldier from the American Civil War, his uniform worn and battle-scarred, his face half-hidden under the shadow of his cap. The brushstrokes were vivid, almost too real, as if the artist had trapped something more than just an image on the canvas.
Elena leaned closer, squinting at the figure’s face. There was something strange about it, something that made her heart beat just a little faster. His eyes—were they following her?
She blinked and stepped back. That was ridiculous. It was just a painting. Yet, as she moved, the soldier’s gaze seemed to shift, tracking her every move. Elena’s breath caught in her throat, her hand instinctively reaching out to touch the corner of the frame.
“Who are you?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness.
The room felt colder suddenly, as if the temperature had dropped without warning. Her fingertips grazed the canvas, and in that instant, everything changed. The world around her blurred, the floor seemed to fall away, and a flash of light swallowed her whole.
When Elena opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was the smell—the scent of earth, smoke, and something else, something metallic. She pushed herself up from the ground, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of where she was.
The gallery was gone.
Instead, she found herself standing in the middle of a dusty road, surrounded by sprawling fields. In the distance, she could hear the distant rumble of what sounded like cannon fire, though she couldn’t be sure. The sky was an odd, pale gray, and the air was thick with tension.
She looked down at herself. Gone were her modern clothes, replaced by a simple, plain dress. It felt coarse against her skin, unlike anything she’d ever worn before. Her heart raced as she tried to take in her surroundings.
“Excuse me, miss? Are you lost?”
The voice was warm, with a hint of Southern charm. Elena spun around to see a man standing a few feet away, dressed in a Confederate uniform. He was tall, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. His expression was curious, but there was a kindness in the way he spoke, a softness that put her at ease, despite the confusion and fear pulsing in her veins.
“I—” Elena hesitated. What was she supposed to say? That she had touched a painting and somehow ended up in the middle of the 19th century?
The man stepped closer, his eyes scanning her face as if he were trying to figure out her story. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“No,” Elena managed, her voice shaky. “I’m not.” He held out a hand. “Name’s Ethan. Ethan Cross.”
Elena looked at his hand, then back at his face. His gaze was steady, unwavering, and for a moment, she forgot about the strangeness of the situation. She took his hand, and the warmth of his grip sent a shiver up her spine.
“Elena,” she said softly.
Ethan’s smile widened just a fraction. “Well, Elena, you look like you could use a bit of help. This here’s no place for a lady to be wanderin’ alone. The war’s close, and it ain’t safe.”
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression darkening for a brief second. Elena followed his gaze, spotting the faint outline of smoke rising from somewhere in the distance. The sound of cannon fire grew louder, a reminder of the violent reality surrounding them.
“I don’t know where I am,” Elena admitted, her voice trembling. “I don’t know how I got here.”
Ethan looked at her again, this time more seriously. “I can take you to the camp. We got nurses there—maybe someone can help you.”
She nodded, feeling a strange mix of relief and fear. There was something about Ethan— something she couldn’t quite place. He was kind, yes, but there was an undercurrent to him, a hidden layer she couldn’t read. Still, she had no choice but to trust him.
As they walked toward the camp, Elena found herself stealing glances at Ethan. He was handsome, with a strong jawline and eyes that seemed to carry the weight of too many secrets. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew her in despite the chaos of the world around them.
“Are you a soldier?” she asked, breaking the silence.
Ethan chuckled softly. “Something like that. Been fightin’ for what feels like forever.”
His answer was vague, but she didn’t push. Instead, they walked in silence, the sounds of war echoing faintly in the background. When they reached the camp, Ethan led her to a small tent, offering her a place to rest.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Elena nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. The way he looked at her, the way his eyes softened when they met hers, made her feel…safe. But there was more to it. There was something deeper beneath the surface, a connection she couldn’t explain.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” she whispered.
Ethan stepped closer, his gaze locked on hers. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly. “Just stay safe.”
For a moment, time seemed to stop. The tension between them crackled like the air before a storm, and Elena felt a pull, an urge to close the distance between them. She wondered if he felt it too, or if it was just her imagination running wild in the strangeness of it all.
But before she could say anything more, a shout rang out from the other side of the camp. “Ethan! We need you!”
Ethan turned, his expression hardening. He gave Elena one last look before stepping away, his hand brushing lightly against hers as he left.
Alone in the tent, Elena felt the weight of everything crash down on her. The war, the time travel, Ethan—it all swirled in her mind like a storm she couldn’t control. But one thought stood out above the rest: the way he had looked at her, the way his touch had lingered, even for just a moment.
She didn’t know where she was, or how she had gotten here, but one thing was certain: she was no longer just a visitor in this world.
As she lay down, trying to make sense of it all, a shadow moved outside the tent. She sat up quickly, her heart racing, as a dark figure appeared at the entrance.
It wasn’t Ethan.
And then, just as quickly as they had appeared, the figure vanished into the night.