Chapter 1: The Quake that Shattered Time
It was one of those quiet, golden afternoons that made Florence feel like a dream. The narrow streets glistened in the soft light of a setting sun, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. I wandered aimlessly, my thoughts heavy with memories I wished I could forget. A dull ache sat in my chest, the weight of past mistakes and choices lingering like a stubborn bruise.
I had come to Florence for a fresh start, for peace, but somehow, no matter how far I traveled, the same questions always followed me. Am I good enough? Did I do the right thing? The breakup, the friendships I’d let fade, the dreams I’d set aside—none of them left me alone. I ran my fingers over the rough stone walls as I walked, trying to ground myself in the present, trying to remember why I had come here in the first place.
The quiet brought little comfort. I glanced up at the towering façade of an ancient building and sighed. It’s beautiful, but is it enough?
That was when the ground shifted beneath my feet.
At first, it was a subtle tremor, like the city itself was holding its breath. But within seconds, the trembling grew stronger, and the cobblestones under my shoes began to buckle. My heart lurched as the ground heaved, sending people shouting and running in every direction. Windows rattled, and the once peaceful streets erupted in chaos.
An earthquake. But in Florence?
I stumbled forward, barely keeping my balance, and that’s when I saw it—a small, crumbling wall in a forgotten corner of a garden. A large chunk of stone had broken away from its foundation, revealing a dark hollow behind it. Something glinted within, catching the last rays of the fading sun. I didn’t know why, but I felt drawn to it.
Instinct, impulse, maybe even desperation—it was hard to tell. My feet carried me toward the opening, my pulse quickening with each step. I reached inside, my fingers brushing against something cold and smooth. I pulled it out: a golden hourglass, unlike anything I had ever seen. Its surface was engraved with intricate designs, ancient symbols I couldn’t decipher. The sand inside shimmered as though it held a light of its own.
The earth shook harder, and I heard a deep, resonating crack. Suddenly, the ground split open beneath me. I barely had time to react before the earth swallowed me whole.
***
I fell into darkness.
The sensation was terrifying and dreamlike all at once. I was weightless, tumbling through an endless void, clutching the hourglass to my chest. My mind raced—was this death? Was this some kind of strange dream brought on by the earthquake? It felt too real, too visceral.
Just when I thought I would lose myself in the abyss, a flash of light blinded me. I hit the ground with a thud, the air knocked from my lungs. I lay there for a moment, gasping, disoriented. When I opened my eyes, everything had changed.
I wasn’t in Florence anymore. At least, not the Florence I knew.
The streets were still cobblestone, but different. The buildings around me, though familiar in structure, were… older. The air itself felt thicker, filled with the scent of woodsmoke, fresh bread, and something else I couldn’t quite place. People bustled past me, dressed in flowing robes and garments that belonged in a museum.
“Signorina, are you alright?”
I turned my head, startled by the voice. A man was kneeling beside me, his brow furrowed in concern. He reached out a hand to help me up, and as I took it, a jolt of something indescribable passed between us—something that made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the fall.
His touch was warm, his grip strong yet gentle, and as I stood, I found myself face to face with him. He was tall, with dark hair that curled slightly at the edges, and his eyes—deep, dark, and full of quiet intensity—seemed to see straight through me. There was something about him, something familiar, as if I had met him before, in a dream or another life.
“Th-thank you,” I stammered, my mind still reeling from the fall, from the strange shift in time.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” he said softly, his gaze holding mine. “There are dangers in this city.”
I swallowed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. My modern clothes felt out of place, drawing more than a few curious stares from passersby. And yet, the man before me didn’t seem surprised by my appearance.
“Where am I?” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer.
He tilted his head slightly, studying me with a quiet intensity. “You’re in Florence, signorina. But you seem… lost.”
I glanced around, trying to steady my breathing. “This… this doesn’t make sense.”
He smiled, a small, almost sad smile. “The world rarely does.”
I took a step back, clutching the hourglass to my chest. “I don’t belong here. I need to get back…”
“Back where?” he asked, his voice calm but curious.
I didn’t know how to explain it—how could I? The earthquake, the fall, this man who seemed both real and unreal at once. But before I could answer, a sharp voice cut through the air.
“You!”
A figure stepped out from the shadows—a woman, dressed in dark robes, her eyes narrowing as they locked onto me. There was a coldness in her gaze, something dangerous that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice low and filled with warning.
The man beside me stiffened, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword at his side. “What do you want, Elise?”
The woman—Elise—glared at me, her expression full of something I couldn’t quite place. “She’s meddling with things she doesn’t understand. She needs to leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said, surprising myself with the strength in my voice.
The man—Leonardo, I realized now—stepped in front of me, his posture protective. “You won’t touch her.”
Elise’s eyes flicked between the two of us, and then she smiled, a smile that sent a chill down my spine. “Very well. But know this: the longer she stays, the more dangerous this becomes—for all of us.”
With that, she turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving an eerie silence in her wake.
I exhaled, my heart pounding. “Who… who was that?”
Leonardo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to me, his dark eyes softening as they met mine. “She’s someone you don’t need to worry about right now.”
“But—”
“Trust me,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “You’re safe with me.”
And despite everything—the earthquake, the fall, the impossible shift in time—I believed him. His presence was steady, grounding, even as the world around me felt like it was spiraling out of control.
But there was one thing I knew for certain.
I was no longer in my own time. And something told me that getting back wouldn’t be as simple as I hoped.
***
As we stood there in the fading light of Renaissance Florence, the hourglass in my hand began to glow, faintly at first, but steadily growing brighter. I looked down at it, my breath catching in my throat.
“What… what’s happening?” I whispered.
Leonardo’s expression darkened, his gaze flicking to the hourglass. “It’s starting,” he said quietly.
“Starting? What’s starting?”
But before he could answer, the ground beneath us trembled once more, and a blinding light erupted from the hourglass, enveloping us both in its glow.