Chapter 1: The Book with No Title
I never believed in fate until the day the book fell open in my lap. There, on a yellowed page in the heart of an ancient library, a handwritten note caught my eye: “If you’re reading this, we’re meant to meet. 1885. Town square. Midnight.”
The library was quiet, save for the occasional whisper of turning pages and the soft shuffling of feet. The scent of old leather and dust hung in the air, wrapping around me like a blanket. I sat there, frozen, staring at the cryptic message. It was as if the book had chosen me.
The note was written in a careful, looping script, the kind people used long before text messages and emails. Something about it felt strangely intimate, as though the writer had meant for me, only me, to find it. My heart raced, and I quickly flipped to the front of the book, hoping to find a title or some indication of where it had come from. But there was nothing—no title, no author, not even a date. It was as if the book had appeared out of thin air.
I glanced around, half expecting someone to appear and tell me it was all a joke, but the room was as still as ever. The library was an old one, nestled in a forgotten corner of the city. It had always been my refuge, a place where I could lose myself in the stories of others and forget the nagging guilt that haunted me. But this—this was something different. This felt like a sign.
The words on the page seemed to tug at me, pulling me toward something unknown. 1885. Town square. Midnight. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? A note in an old book leading me to a time long past? But still, a part of me wondered… what if?
“Lia, you’ve been staring at that thing for almost half an hour. Are you okay?” Mina’s voice broke through my thoughts. She stood over me, arms crossed, her head tilted in that concerned way she always had. Mina was my best friend, the one person who could read me like an open book—unlike this one, which was full of more questions than answers.
I smiled weakly and showed her the note. “Look at this. It’s strange, right? I found it hidden in this old book, but there’s no title, no author, nothing. It’s like the book just appeared.”
Mina leaned in, squinting at the words. “That’s… odd. Are you sure this isn’t part of some elaborate escape room or scavenger hunt? You know how those are trending right now.”
“Maybe,” I replied, though deep down, I didn’t believe it. There was something about the note that felt more significant. A part of me wanted to follow its instructions, to see what would happen if I did. It sounded crazy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.
Mina raised an eyebrow. “You’re not thinking about actually going, are you? I mean, come on, Lia. 1885? We can’t just time travel.”
I laughed, trying to brush off the absurdity of the idea. “Of course not. But, you know, maybe I’ll head to the town square at midnight, just for fun.”
“Right,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because nothing weird ever happens when you follow mysterious notes from old books.”
She wasn’t wrong. But I couldn’t explain the pull I felt, the strange urge to see this through. I’d spent so much of my life making safe choices, avoiding risks, and locking away my regrets. Maybe this was the adventure I needed—the escape from the monotony of my everyday life, from the guilt that hung over me like a shadow.
***
That evening, I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, the note from the book tucked under my pillow. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What did it mean? Who had written it? Was it some sort of prank, or was there something more?
I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift back to the last time I had felt this kind of pull—back to him. It had been years, but the memories still lingered, like the scent of rain after a storm. He was the one who had made me feel alive, who had brought color to my otherwise gray existence. But I had messed it up, let my impulsiveness get the better of me. I’d pushed him away, and now all I had were fragments of what could have been.
I could still picture our last night together, walking hand in hand through the city streets, the moon casting a soft glow over us. We had talked about the future, about dreams and possibilities, but I hadn’t listened closely enough. I had been too focused on my own fears, my own insecurities.
He had stopped beneath a lamppost, the light illuminating his face, making him look almost ethereal. I remember the way his fingers had brushed against my cheek, the warmth of his touch. And then, just like that, I had pulled away, too afraid to let myself be vulnerable.
What would you do if you could go back? I asked myself. If I could travel back in time, would I make the same mistakes? Or would I be brave enough to hold on to what I wanted, to fight for it?
I sat up, reaching for the pendant around my neck—the only thing I had left from that time. It was delicate, a thin silver chain with a small, intricate charm that seemed to shimmer in the low light. I had found it in an old market during one of our trips, and I hadn’t taken it off since.
Suddenly, the pendant felt warm against my skin. I frowned, holding it in my hand. The temperature was rising, almost as if it were alive. A strange sensation washed over me, a tingling that spread through my body. My heart pounded in my chest, and I gasped as the world around me seemed to blur and shift.
The room spun, the edges of my vision darkening. Panic surged through me, but I couldn’t move. I tried to call out for Mina, but no sound came from my lips. The pendant glowed brighter, and then, in an instant, everything went black.
***
I awoke with a start, gasping for breath. The smell of leather and parchment was gone, replaced by something else—something unfamiliar. The air was thick with the scent of wet stone, and the distant sound of horse hooves echoed in the night.
I sat up, blinking against the darkness. I was no longer in my room, no longer in the library. My heart raced as I looked around, taking in my surroundings. I was outside, sitting on the edge of a stone fountain in the middle of what looked like a deserted square.
And then it hit me. The note. 1885. Town square. Midnight.
I wasn’t dreaming. Somehow, impossibly, I had traveled back in time.
A shiver ran down my spine, but it wasn’t from the cold. I stood up, my legs unsteady beneath me, and looked around the square. It was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft murmur of water from the fountain behind me.
And then I saw him.
A figure stood at the far end of the square, his back turned to me. He was tall, his posture straight and confident, dressed in clothes that looked straight out of a history book. My breath caught in my throat as he slowly turned, his eyes locking onto mine.
He smiled—a slow, mysterious smile that sent a thrill through me.
“Welcome,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
***
Before I could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed behind me, and a shadow moved in the darkness. Someone else was there, watching us.