Chapter 1: The Whispering Clock
The rain began as a light drizzle, the kind that makes the world feel suspended in time. I had been wandering aimlessly through the narrow streets of Paris, unsure of what I was even looking for. The old buildings loomed around me like silent witnesses to a thousand forgotten stories, their windows dim and their secrets locked away. That’s when I saw it—a small, unassuming antique shop tucked between a café and a flower stall. Something about it pulled me in, as if I were meant to find it.
I pushed open the heavy wooden door, a bell jingling softly overhead. The air inside was thick with the scent of old leather and dust, the kind of place that felt like it hadn’t changed in a hundred years. Shelves groaned under the weight of forgotten trinkets, each one holding the faintest promise of magic. But it wasn’t any of those objects that caught my eye—it was the pocket watch.
It sat on a shelf behind the counter, gleaming faintly even in the dim light. The intricate gold casing was engraved with delicate symbols that seemed to shift if I looked too closely. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t explain why, but I had to have it.
“Ah, the watch,” came a voice from behind the counter. I hadn’t even noticed the old shopkeeper standing there, his eyes sharp and knowing. “That one is special. Very old. Very… dangerous.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous?”
He gave a small, sad smile. “Let’s just say it has a mind of its own. It whispers to those who are lost.”
I hesitated, but the watch was already in my hands. It felt warm, almost as if it were alive. “I’ll take it.”
The shopkeeper looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Be careful, mademoiselle. Time is not as simple as it seems.”
I paid for the watch and slipped it into my coat pocket, the weight of it oddly comforting against my side. As I stepped back out into the rain, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life had just taken a strange turn. But I didn’t know how strange it would become.
Later that night, as the rain pattered softly against the window of my hotel room, I took out the pocket watch again. I studied the engravings, tracing the delicate patterns with my fingertips. There was something familiar about it, though I couldn’t place why. With a soft click, I opened the watch.
The hands weren’t moving.
I frowned and tilted it in the light. No ticking, no gentle sweep of time passing. It was frozen. For a moment, disappointment flickered through me. Had I just bought a broken antique? But then I noticed something strange—the hands were pointing backward.
Midnight struck, and the world shifted.
I gasped as the room around me dissolved into a blur of light and sound. My heart raced, and a strange sensation pulled at me, as if I were falling and floating at the same time. My vision dimmed, and everything went black.
When I opened my eyes, the air was thick with smoke and the sharp scent of gunpowder. The sound of distant explosions echoed in the air, and the ground beneath me was cold, wet, and muddy. Panic surged through me. Where was I?
A figure moved through the haze, coming closer. My breath caught in my throat as I saw him— tall, broad-shouldered, with the kind of face you couldn’t forget. His eyes were dark, intense, and locked onto mine as if he’d been searching for me.
“Are you all right?” His voice was low, urgent, laced with an accent I couldn’t quite place. I struggled to my feet, my hands trembling. “I—where am I?”
The man’s gaze swept over me, taking in my modern clothes with a frown. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “I don’t understand. Where am I?”
He glanced around, as if checking for danger. “This is no place for a woman. The front lines aren’t far from here. You need to get out of here, now.”
I stared at him, trying to process his words. The front lines? Of what? “Come with me,” he said, offering his hand.
I hesitated for a moment but took it. His hand was warm and strong, and something about him made me feel like I could trust him. He led me through the fog and chaos, his grip firm and reassuring. Every step we took felt surreal, as if I were moving through a dream. The mud squelched under our boots, and the sounds of war echoed in the distance.
Finally, we stopped near an abandoned barn. He glanced back at me, his face shadowed but his eyes still intense.
“I don’t know how you got here,” he said softly, “but you’re not safe.” I swallowed hard. “What year is it?”
He frowned, clearly puzzled by my question. “It’s 1914.”
My heart sank. 1914? I had traveled back in time—to the start of World War I. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. And yet, the mud on my shoes, the sounds, the smells—they were all too real.
“I—I need to go back,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper.
The man’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his presence grounding me in a way I couldn’t explain. “You can’t stay here. But I’ll help you. I’ll find a way to get you back.”
For a moment, the world around us seemed to fade away. It was just the two of us, standing in the shadows of a time long past, and yet there was an undeniable connection between us— something unspoken but deeply felt. His eyes held mine, and I felt a warmth I hadn’t known in years, a strange comfort amidst the chaos.
He reached up and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. “I’m Étienne,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “And you?”
“Lila,” I breathed, my heart racing.
Étienne’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, as if committing my face to memory. “Lila,” he repeated, the name soft on his lips.
For a brief, fleeting second, it felt like time had stopped—like we were the only two people in the world. Then, a distant explosion shattered the moment, reminding us both of the war raging around us.
“I’ll get you to safety,” Étienne said, his voice steady now. “But you need to trust me.”
I nodded, my mind still reeling from everything that had happened. But deep down, I knew I had no choice. I was trapped in a time I didn’t belong to, and Étienne was my only hope.
Just as we were about to leave the barn, the pocket watch in my coat began to hum again, its soft ticking barely audible over the chaos outside. I pulled it out, staring at it in disbelief as the hands began to move—backward.
Before I could react, the world blurred again, and I was falling into darkness.