Chapter 1: “The Letter That Changed Everything”
I had only come to my grandmother’s house to clean out her attic, not to discover the secret of time travel.
The air was thick with dust as I opened the creaking door to the attic. Stale and musty, like the memories I’d buried long ago, it reminded me of the summers I used to spend here as a child—back when everything seemed simpler. But now, standing alone in the attic, the weight of those memories made my chest feel tight.
My grandmother had passed away a month ago, and with no one left to handle the house, it fell to me. Clearing out the attic was supposed to be a simple task—sorting through old trunks, photographs, and broken knickknacks. It should’ve been boring, just another chore on my growing list of responsibilities. But nothing about today would be simple.
I was going through a box of old letters when I found it. A small, yellowed envelope tucked away at the bottom, almost invisible beneath layers of forgotten papers. The handwriting on the front was familiar: neat and delicate, the same as on all the letters my grandmother had written to me over the years.
But this one was addressed to no one. There was no name, no stamp, nothing. Just a faded seal that looked like it had been pressed centuries ago.
Curious, I slid my finger under the flap, careful not to tear the fragile paper. Inside was a single sheet, folded over several times. I hesitated before opening it, feeling an odd sense of anticipation building in my chest.
The letter was written in my grandmother’s hand, but the words didn’t make any sense—at least, not at first.
“The silver pendant holds the key to the past. Time bends to the one who knows its secret. Use it wisely, for once you step through the door, you may never return the same.”
I stared at the letter, my heart thumping in my ears. A pendant? Time bending? What was this supposed to mean?
I shook my head, trying to laugh it off. Maybe my grandmother had been writing a story, some kind of fairy tale she’d never finished. But why would she hide it in the attic, tucked away as if it were something precious?
I looked back into the box and noticed a glimmer of something buried beneath the letters. I reached in and pulled out a delicate silver pendant attached to a thin chain. It was old, maybe even ancient, and in the center of it was a small, glowing stone, no bigger than a marble.
I held it up to the light, watching as the stone shimmered in soft hues of blue and green. It looked like it belonged in a museum, not in my grandmother’s attic. The moment I touched it, a strange warmth spread through my fingers, and for a split second, I thought I saw the room shift—just a flicker, like a trick of the eye.
My heart raced. I wanted to dismiss it as my imagination, but something deep inside me told me this was real. My grandmother hadn’t just left me an old letter. She had left me a secret.
I slipped the pendant around my neck, the metal cool against my skin. My fingers tingled as I fumbled with the clasp, the warmth intensifying. Before I could stop myself, I whispered the words from the letter aloud, as if drawn by an invisible force.
“The silver pendant holds the key to the past…”
The moment the words left my lips, the air in the attic shifted. A gust of wind blew through the room, though the window was closed. The light around me twisted, bending and warping until the entire room was swirling with color. I felt my feet lift off the ground, my stomach lurching as if I were falling into an abyss.
Panic clawed at my chest. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I shut my eyes tight, bracing for the impact of whatever was happening.
And then… silence.
***
When I opened my eyes, I was no longer in my grandmother’s attic.
The room was gone. The dusty air, the wooden beams, the old trunks—all of it had disappeared. In its place was the unmistakable sound of bustling streets, the distant murmur of voices, and the scent of freshly baked bread.
I blinked, struggling to comprehend what I was seeing. I was standing in the middle of a crowded marketplace. The buildings around me were tall and gray, their facades old and worn. There were people everywhere, speaking in low, hurried tones. A horse-drawn cart clattered past me, its wheels kicking up dirt from the cobblestones.
I knew this place. I’d seen it before, in history books, in black-and-white photos. This was Berlin. But it wasn’t the Berlin of my time. It was different. The cars were older, the people dressed in vintage clothing. And the air—it had a thickness to it, a tension that pressed against my skin.
Berlin. Post-war. Cold War.
I was in the past. The letter hadn’t been a fairy tale.
I staggered back, my hand flying to the pendant at my throat. How was this possible? I had time-traveled—actually time-traveled.
As I tried to make sense of it all, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned sharply and saw him.
A man stood across the marketplace, leaning casually against a lamppost. He was tall, his dark hair tousled by the wind, and his sharp features were softened by a faint smile. He was handsome, striking even, but there was something about him that made me wary. His eyes—they were deep, knowing, as if he understood something I didn’t.
Our eyes met, and for a moment, it was as if the world around us faded. His gaze was intense, pulling me in like a magnet. I should have been frightened, but instead, I felt drawn to him.
He straightened up and began walking toward me. The marketplace was bustling with people, but I could only focus on him. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of fear and something else I couldn’t name.
“Are you lost?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. His accent was faint but unmistakable—Russian.
I swallowed, trying to think of an excuse. I was clearly out of place here, but I didn’t know how much he knew. “I… I’m just looking around.”
He studied me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to read my mind. Then, to my surprise, he smiled. “Looking around? In a Cold War city? Interesting choice.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could say anything, the marketplace erupted in a flurry of movement. People started shouting, running in different directions. I turned and saw a group of men, dressed in dark coats, making their way toward us with purpose in their steps.
The man beside me tensed. “You need to leave. Now.”
“What? Why?”
“No time to explain.” He grabbed my hand, his touch firm but not harsh. “Come with me.”
I didn’t have a chance to argue. He pulled me into the crowd, weaving through the panicked mass of people with practiced ease. My mind raced, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Who was this man? And why was he helping me?
We ducked into a narrow alley, and he pressed me against the wall, his body close to mine as we hid in the shadows. My breath hitched, and I could feel the heat radiating off him. His scent—woodsy and faintly spicy—filled my senses, grounding me in this surreal moment.
For a second, everything felt still, the chaos of the marketplace fading into the background. His eyes met mine again, and this time, there was something softer in his gaze. Something I couldn’t place.
“Who are you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He leaned in closer, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered back, “Nikolai.”
My heart raced as his breath lingered against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The world outside felt far away, distant, as if only the two of us existed in this narrow alley.
Just as I was about to say something, the sound of footsteps echoed down the alley, pulling us back into reality. Nikolai’s face hardened, and he stepped back, his hand still holding mine.
“We’re not safe yet,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
And then, without another word, he pulled me deeper into the shadows.
***
As we moved deeper into the alley, a figure appeared at the other end—waiting for us. It was then that I realized… Nikolai might not be the only one who knew I didn’t belong here.