Chapter 1: The Doorway to the Past
“As I reached for the mysterious door handle in the old mansion, a sudden jolt of electricity coursed through my body, catapulting me through the corridors of time.”
It was supposed to be a weekend escape. A short getaway to clear my mind, a reprieve from the relentless thoughts that gnawed at me—failures, regrets, the choices I’d made that led me to this point in my life. The mansion loomed before me, grand and mysterious, its ancient stone walls worn by time. The air was thick with the scent of rain and earth, a perfect match to my mood.
“Maybe a change of scenery will help,” my best friend Molly had said. She’d insisted on booking this trip, but I’d come alone. Something about the silence of the place called to me, as if the mansion itself had secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Wandering the dusty corridors that evening, I stumbled upon a door hidden away in a dim corner of the library. It didn’t look like the others—this one was older, almost forgotten. My heart raced as I reached for the handle. A pulse of energy surged through my body, not unlike the static shock you get from touching something metallic in winter—but this was different. It felt alive, like something inside me had shifted.
Before I could make sense of what was happening, the world around me blurred. The library, the door, even the air itself seemed to twist and collapse. My breath caught in my throat as my vision swam. And then—darkness.
When I opened my eyes, the world had changed. The air felt heavier, thick with the scent of coal smoke and horse-drawn carriages. I blinked, taking in my surroundings. I was no longer in the mansion but standing in the middle of a bustling street, cobblestones beneath my feet and carriages clattering by. Men in top hats, women in long skirts—Victorian London.
Panic clawed at my chest. “This isn’t real. This can’t be real,” I whispered to myself, but everything around me was too vivid, too solid to be a dream. I was here. Somehow, I was no longer in my time, but in another.
I stumbled down the street, dazed and confused. I had no idea where to go or what to do. The mansion, the strange door—it was gone. In its place, a sea of unfamiliar faces and buildings that belonged to another century.
***
The moment I saw him, everything else seemed to blur.
Amidst the chaos, my gaze was drawn to a figure standing beneath a wrought-iron streetlamp, as if he was waiting for something—or someone. He was tall, his posture rigid, with an air of mystery that made it impossible to look away. His sharp, handsome features were framed by dark hair, and his eyes—oh, those eyes—seemed to pierce right through me.
For a moment, our eyes met, and the noise of the city around me faded into the background. I didn’t know him, but there was something in his gaze that stirred something deep within me. He stepped forward, and my heart pounded in my chest.
“Are you lost, miss?” His voice was smooth, calm, with the faintest hint of amusement, as though he knew exactly how out of place I was.
I blinked, trying to collect myself. “I—uh, I don’t know where I am.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing over his face. “London, of course. Though I suspect that isn’t quite what you meant.”
I swallowed hard. “No, it’s not.”
There was a pause, the weight of his gaze heavy on me. He seemed to be considering something, as though trying to decide whether to trust me. Then, with a small smile, he offered his arm. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”
Hesitant but desperate for answers, I took it. His touch was warm, solid, a comforting anchor in this strange world I’d been thrown into. As we walked through the narrow streets, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew more than he was letting on. Every word he spoke felt carefully chosen, as though he was guarding something—yet, there was a softness in his demeanor, something that made me feel safe in his presence.
We reached a quieter part of the city, a garden tucked away behind tall stone walls. It was beautiful, filled with roses in full bloom, their delicate fragrance filling the air. The chaos of the city melted away, leaving only the two of us in this secluded space.
***
The moonlight cast a silver glow over the garden, bathing everything in a soft, dreamlike hue. I could hear the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze, but all I could focus on was him. We stood side by side in the quiet, neither of us speaking, but the silence between us felt charged with unspoken words.
“I’ve never seen a place like this,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
He turned to me, a half-smile playing on his lips. “London can surprise you if you know where to look.”
I glanced up at him, suddenly aware of how close we were standing. His face was just inches from mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled me in despite the whirlwind of confusion in my mind.
“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” I admitted softly, my voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.
His gaze softened, the guarded look in his eyes momentarily slipping away. “The feeling is mutual,” he replied, his voice low, almost tender.
The space between us seemed to shrink as he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. The contact sent a shiver through me, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I found myself stepping closer, my heart pounding in my chest. There was something undeniably right about this moment, as though we had been drawn together by forces beyond time itself.
For a brief, breathless second, the world around us disappeared. The city, the confusion, even the impossible reality of time travel—it all faded away. All that mattered was the feeling of his hand in mine, the steady rise and fall of his breath, and the quiet, unspoken connection between us.
He lifted a hand to my cheek, his fingers light against my skin, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. I wanted him to. But just as the moment hung on the edge, a distant sound broke the spell—the clang of a distant bell, echoing through the city streets.
He pulled back, his expression unreadable, as though the spell had been broken for him too. I felt the weight of reality settle back in, but the memory of that fleeting connection lingered.
***
Before I could speak, before I could ask him what was happening, he stepped away, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. Or something deeper.
“There’s much you don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice now distant, guarded once more. “But be careful, Hannah.”
I froze. “How do you know my name?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the garden as if he’d never been there at all.
My heart raced, and I stood frozen in place, staring at the spot where he had vanished. I didn’t know what to make of his warning, of the impossible knowledge he seemed to possess.
But one thing was certain—this was only the beginning.