Chapter 1: The Door in the Mansion
The mansion had stood there for centuries, its walls steeped in history, but to me, it was just a burden I never wanted. I’d inherited it from a distant relative, someone I barely knew, and now it was mine—this crumbling, forgotten house full of memories that weren’t mine. The air inside was thick with dust, carrying the smell of old wood and stories no one had told in decades.
I wasn’t supposed to be there. My best friend, Caterina, told me to leave the place alone until the legal papers were finalized, but I was drawn to it, like something invisible was pulling me in. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was guilt—the kind of guilt you carry around when you’ve spent years running from yourself. Or maybe it was just the way the place made me feel like I was searching for something, though I couldn’t put my finger on what.
As I wandered through the grand halls, past faded portraits of people I would never meet, something caught my eye. At the far end of the corridor, almost hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain, was a door. It was smaller than the others, painted a pale, almost ghostly shade of blue, and it didn’t match the rest of the house.
I paused, my hand hovering over the doorknob. The air around me felt different, colder, as though time itself had slowed down. The door creaked open under my touch, revealing a narrow staircase that spiraled downward. I hesitated for only a moment before descending into the shadows below.
At the bottom of the stairs, I found a room like no other in the house. It was small, circular, and filled with strange, ancient artifacts—things that didn’t belong here. A silver mirror with intricate carvings, a marble bust of someone I didn’t recognize, and, at the very center of the room, an hourglass resting on a velvet pillow.
It was beautiful, the glass delicate and shimmering in the dim light. The sand inside was a pale golden color, swirling gently as if caught in a breeze. My breath caught in my throat as I reached for it. Something about the hourglass called to me. It was as if my entire life had been leading me to this moment, to this tiny object in this forgotten room.
Before I could think twice, I picked it up.
The instant my fingers touched the cool glass, a strange sensation washed over me. The world around me shifted and spun. The floor seemed to dissolve beneath my feet, and the room stretched and twisted until it was unrecognizable. I tried to let go of the hourglass, but it was too late. The sand began to flow, faster and faster, and everything around me blurred into a swirl of light and shadow.
When I finally opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the mansion anymore.
I stood in the middle of a busy street, my heart pounding in my chest. The air was different here—warmer, sweeter, and filled with the sounds of life. I blinked, disoriented, as people hurried past me, their clothing strange and unfamiliar. Stone buildings towered on either side of the street, their facades adorned with intricate carvings and statues that seemed to watch my every move.
I turned slowly, taking in the scene. Horse-drawn carriages clattered by, and the scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once. I felt like I’d stepped into a painting, one of those Renaissance scenes you see in museums. Except this wasn’t a painting. This was real.
“Signorina, are you all right?”
The voice came from behind me, deep and smooth, with an accent that made my heart skip a beat. I turned and found myself staring into the most intense pair of dark eyes I had ever seen. The man standing before me was tall, his skin bronzed by the sun, his hair a mess of dark waves. His clothes were old-fashioned, yet elegant, a fine coat with gold buttons that caught the light. He looked like someone who had walked straight out of a history book—except he was real, and he was standing inches from me.
“I—I don’t know,” I stammered, my mind struggling to catch up with my body. “Where am I?”
“Florence,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you seem… lost.”
“Florence?” I echoed, my voice barely a whisper. “That’s impossible.”
He raised an eyebrow, studying me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. “Why is that impossible?”
I opened my mouth to answer but realized I had none. I couldn’t tell him that I was from a different time, that I had just been standing in a mansion that wouldn’t exist for centuries. It sounded insane, even to me.
“I’m sorry,” I said instead, shaking my head. “I must be confused.”
He stepped closer, his presence warm and magnetic. “It happens to the best of us. Florence can do that to people.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. His face was striking—strong features softened by the faintest hint of a smile. There was something about him that felt… familiar. Like I knew him from somewhere, though that was impossible.
His gaze held mine, and for a brief moment, the world around us seemed to fade. The bustling street, the chatter of people, even the scent of bread—all of it dissolved, leaving just the two of us standing there, caught in a strange, timeless connection.
“I’m Alessandro,” he said finally, breaking the silence. He extended his hand, his fingers brushing mine in a way that sent a shiver up my spine.
“Isabella,” I replied, my voice barely audible.
His smile deepened, and something in his expression softened. “Well, Isabella, it’s not safe to wander these streets alone. Florence has its dangers, especially for someone who… doesn’t quite belong.”
There was a weight to his words, as if he knew more than he was letting on. I should have been wary, but I wasn’t. I felt safe with him, as though he was the one thing in this strange world that made sense.
“Thank you,” I said softly, not sure what I was thanking him for.
He didn’t respond, just continued to watch me, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. There was an undeniable tension between us, a pull that made my heart race faster than it should have. I didn’t even know this man, yet standing here with him felt right, like a piece of a puzzle I hadn’t realized was missing had just clicked into place.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the moment shattered.
A shadow moved across the rooftop of a nearby building. I turned just in time to catch a glimpse of someone—someone watching us. My pulse quickened. There was something about the figure that sent a chill down my spine.
Alessandro’s expression darkened. He glanced toward the shadow, then back at me, his jaw tight. “We need to go.”
“Who is that?” I asked, my voice barely steady.
“Someone you don’t want to meet.”
Before I could protest, he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the crowd, his grip firm and unyielding. The streets of Florence blurred around me as we moved, the figure on the rooftop vanishing from sight. But the chill remained, a reminder that I wasn’t safe. Not here. Not now.
And maybe not with him.
***
As Alessandro led me through the twisting streets of Florence, I glanced over my shoulder, heart pounding. The shadowy figure was gone, but the sense of danger lingered, heavy and inescapable.