Chapter 1: The Ruins of Memory
The ruins of the old theater held a secret—one that would take her back to a time she had never known.
The cold wind cut through the streets of Berlin, rattling the leaves that clung stubbornly to the last of the autumn trees. I pulled my coat tighter around me as I walked, my boots tapping against the cracked cobblestone road. It had been months since I’d left the embassy, tired of the endless politicking, the backroom deals whispered in hushed voices. I was supposed to be fixing things, making a difference. But instead, I felt like a pawn in a game I didn’t understand.
It was always like this. I would push myself forward, convinced that I could outrun the past, only to find that no matter how far I went, my mistakes followed. I didn’t deserve to be here, in this city so full of history, of conflict. I didn’t deserve to have a future.
That’s why I wandered, finding comfort in the quiet, forgotten corners of Berlin. That’s how I ended up here, at the ruins of the old theater.
The theater had been magnificent once, its grand arches and intricate carvings telling stories of a city that had thrived before the war. But now, all that was left were broken walls, jagged stone, and a crumbling facade that seemed to sag under the weight of history. There were no tourists here, no gawking crowds. Only silence.
And yet, there was something about it that called to me.
I stepped through the gaping hole that had once been the main entrance, my breath echoing in the hollow space. Dust filled the air, swirling around in the dim light that filtered through the cracked roof. My footsteps were the only sound, and I found myself drawn deeper into the ruins, my heart beating faster for reasons I couldn’t explain.
It was then that I saw it.
A small, hidden door, half-buried in the rubble. It was so ordinary that I might have missed it if it hadn’t been for the faint shimmer in the air around it. Like a trick of the light, or something far stranger. Without thinking, I crouched down, my fingers brushing against the cold metal handle. My heart raced as I hesitated, a flicker of doubt creeping into my mind.
Why did this feel so important?
I pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was thick and heavy, as though time itself had forgotten this place. In the center of the room, resting on a stone pedestal, was a mirror. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen—large and ornate, its frame covered in intricate carvings that looked almost like ancient symbols. The glass was perfectly clear, reflecting the room back at me with eerie precision.
I stepped closer, my breath catching in my throat as I stared into the mirror. My reflection stared back, but something was off. The person in the mirror wasn’t me—not really. It was a version of me that I didn’t recognize. A version that seemed… lost.
A sudden sound behind me made me whirl around, my heart leaping into my throat. A man stood in the doorway, tall and imposing, his dark coat blending into the shadows. His face was partially obscured by the dim light, but I could see enough to tell that he wasn’t just some curious onlooker.
He was watching me.
“You weren’t supposed to find that,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place.
“Who are you?” I demanded, taking a step back, my hand instinctively reaching for my phone—though I doubted it would do much good. This man didn’t look like someone who could be scared off easily.
His gaze flickered to the mirror, then back to me. “I’m someone who knows exactly what you’re playing with.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something about him—something dangerous, but also… familiar. It didn’t make sense. I had never met this man before, and yet, in the dim light of the ruined theater, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our paths had crossed before.
“That mirror,” he continued, stepping closer, “is not something you should be touching. It’s tied to forces you can’t possibly understand.”
“I wasn’t touching it,” I snapped, though my heart pounded in my chest. “I just found it. What’s it to you?”
He gave me a long, measured look, as though weighing whether or not to trust me. Then, with a sigh, he took another step forward, and I saw him more clearly. He was handsome, with sharp features and intense, storm-gray eyes. His dark hair fell just slightly over his forehead, and his expression was a mix of frustration and something softer, something almost protective.
“You need to leave,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Now.”
I wanted to argue, to demand answers, but before I could speak, the ground beneath us seemed to shift. My vision blurred, and for a moment, it felt as though the room was spinning. I stumbled, reaching out to steady myself on the edge of the mirror’s frame. A flash of light, blinding and cold, enveloped me.
And then—nothing.
***
I opened my eyes, gasping for breath. The world around me was different—wrong. The theater was no longer in ruins. The walls were whole, the roof intact, and the seats that had once been broken and scattered were now perfectly aligned, as though the theater had been restored to its former glory.
But it wasn’t just the theater. The air was different. The sounds, the smells—everything felt off, like a different time altogether.
I staggered backward, my mind racing. What had happened? How could—
“Calm down,” the man’s voice broke through my panic. He was standing next to me, his expression unreadable. “You’ve traveled. The mirror… it’s a gateway.”
“A gateway?” I repeated, my voice shaking. “To where? To when?”
He glanced around the theater, his expression darkening. “Berlin. 1953.”
I froze. That couldn’t be right. It was impossible. And yet, as I looked around, I knew he wasn’t lying. The mirror had taken me—us—back in time. But why? And how could I return?
I turned to him, my heart racing. “Who are you?”
He hesitated for a moment, then finally said, “My name is Alexei.”
There was something about the way he said it, the way his eyes lingered on mine, that sent a shiver down my spine. He was hiding something—I could feel it. But right now, he was the only one who seemed to know what was happening.
“Why am I here?” I asked, my voice trembling.
He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “Because the mirror chose you.”
His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning I didn’t yet understand. And yet, despite everything, I felt a strange pull toward him. There was something about the way he looked at me, as though he knew more about me than I knew about myself. As though he had been waiting for me.
For a moment, we stood there in silence, the tension between us thick and electric. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, even as my mind raced with questions and doubts. Who was he really? And why did I feel this strange, undeniable connection to him?
Before I could say anything, Alexei reached out, his hand brushing lightly against my arm. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity through me, making my pulse quicken.
“You’re not safe here,” he said quietly, his voice low and urgent. “There are people who will be looking for you. People who won’t be as understanding as I am.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “Then what do I do?”
His eyes softened slightly, and for the first time since I’d met him, I saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze. “You stick with me.”
For reasons I couldn’t explain, I nodded, trusting him—if only for the moment.
But even as I stood there, the weight of the situation pressing down on me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. That the mirror had brought me here for a reason. And that Alexei, with all his secrets and mysteries, was somehow at the heart of it all.
***
Just as Alexei turned away to lead me out of the theater, a low, menacing voice echoed from the shadows: “You’ve gone too far this time, Alexei.”