Chapter 1: The Earthquake’s Whisper
An earthquake shook the ground beneath me, opening a portal to an era I had only read about.
I gripped the edge of the counter, the world trembling around me as everything seemed to blur. The earthquake was sudden, unnatural. It wasn’t just the violent shaking that unnerved me—it was the way it felt. Like something was tearing at the fabric of time itself. The small café where I spent most of my afternoons began to rattle, sending dishes crashing to the floor.
People screamed and ran, but I stood frozen, watching as the ground beneath the center of the room cracked open. At first, it was just a thin line, no wider than my finger. But as I stared, it widened, glowing softly like it held something alive. I backed away instinctively, clutching the golden locket around my neck—a family heirloom I never took off. Something was happening to it, a warmth spreading through the metal like it was reacting to whatever was emerging from the ground.
I should have run. I should have bolted like everyone else. But my feet felt glued to the floor, my heart pounding in my ears. I had never felt so connected to something so strange. My life, mundane as it was, had felt like a series of missed opportunities, regrets piling up like old letters. There was a void inside me I couldn’t fill, no matter how hard I tried to change. And now, this… this felt like the beginning of something new. Something important.
Before I knew it, I was standing right at the edge of the crack. The light intensified, swirling into a glowing whirlpool of gold and white. My locket hummed softly. I knelt down, reaching out toward it. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but the moment my fingers touched the light, everything went silent.
Then, everything went black.
***
When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in the café anymore.
The air was different. Warm, but with a crisp breeze. The scent of cigarette smoke and perfume mingled with the unmistakable sound of jazz, drifting through the night air like an invisible thread pulling me toward its source. My heart raced as I slowly rose to my feet, my eyes adjusting to the dim lights around me.
I was in the middle of a bustling street, surrounded by people dressed in shimmering gowns and tailored suits, their faces glowing with excitement. Old-fashioned cars rumbled by, and laughter echoed from the crowded sidewalks. The streetlights cast a soft, romantic glow on the cobblestones beneath my feet. I glanced down at myself—still wearing the jeans and sweater I’d been in just minutes ago. But it wasn’t the 21st century anymore.
I had no idea where I was, but I had a sinking feeling that I was no longer in my own time.
Before I could fully take in my surroundings, I heard the low hum of music calling to me. A grand, glittering building across the street caught my eye—a jazz club, its lights flickering invitingly. The sign above the door read The Blue Feather, and people were flocking inside like moths drawn to a flame.
Without thinking, I followed them.
Inside, the atmosphere was electric. The air buzzed with conversation, the clink of glasses, and the rhythmic beat of the band playing on stage. A woman in a sparkling green dress belted out a soulful tune, her voice weaving through the smoky room like a spell. For a moment, I forgot my confusion. I was entranced.
I squeezed through the crowd, feeling oddly out of place in my modern clothes. But no one seemed to notice me. Or if they did, they didn’t care. Everyone was lost in their own world, dancing, drinking, laughing. The music carried me forward, leading me closer to the stage. And then, I saw him.
He was leaning against the far wall, a glass of something dark in his hand, his eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. His suit was sharp, perfectly fitted, and his dark hair was slicked back with just enough carelessness to make it look effortless. He looked like he belonged here— like he was part of this world. But there was something about the way he held himself, a kind of guarded loneliness in his posture, that made me think he wasn’t as carefree as everyone else. He wasn’t just another partygoer.
As if sensing my gaze, he turned his head, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, everything else faded—the music, the people, the clinking glasses. It was just us, standing on opposite sides of the room, connected by some invisible force I couldn’t explain. My heart skipped a beat, and I swallowed hard, trying to remind myself to breathe.
I should have looked away. But I didn’t.
Instead, I found myself walking toward him, my feet moving on their own as if drawn by some unseen thread. The crowd parted for me without even noticing, and before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him. Up close, he was even more striking—tall, with a strong jawline and deep, thoughtful eyes that seemed to hold a thousand secrets.
“First time here?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.
I nodded, unsure of what to say. He was looking at me like he knew me, like he had been expecting me. But that was impossible.
“You don’t seem like the usual crowd,” he said, his eyes drifting over my clothes with a hint of amusement. “Though I suppose that’s part of your charm.”
I blushed, suddenly self-conscious. “I… I guess you could say I’m not from around here.”
His lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “I figured. There’s something different about you.”
The way he said it made my pulse quicken. It wasn’t just a compliment. There was something behind those words—something that hinted at more than just surface-level attraction. He was watching me with an intensity that made me feel both seen and unsettled, like he knew things about me that I didn’t even know myself.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.
I hesitated. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this man than met the eye. Still, the music was calling, and I felt an overwhelming need to be close to him. Before I could overthink it, I placed my hand in his.
He led me to the dance floor, weaving through the crowd with a natural grace. The band shifted to a slower tune, and as we began to dance, I felt the world around us melt away. His hand rested on the small of my back, guiding me effortlessly in time with the music. For the first time since I’d arrived here—wherever here was—I felt like I belonged.
The warmth of his hand against mine, the subtle strength in the way he held me, the quiet intensity in his gaze—it was all too much, and yet, not enough. I felt like I was standing on the edge of something profound, like this moment could change everything if I let it.
We danced in silence, our bodies moving together as if we had done this a thousand times before. I could feel my heart racing, my breath quickening, but I didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want to let go.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and close to my ear.
I didn’t know what he meant, but I nodded anyway, because whatever it was—whatever this was —it felt real. It felt like something I had been waiting for, even if I didn’t fully understand it.
Before I could respond, a shadow passed over us.
I glanced up and froze.
There, standing at the edge of the room, was a figure cloaked in darkness. They weren’t dancing or drinking—they were watching. Watching me. A chill ran down my spine as I met their eyes, but the moment I blinked, they were gone.
I pulled away from the man, my heart pounding with sudden unease. “Did you see that?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He frowned, his eyes narrowing. “See what?”
I looked back toward the spot where the figure had been, but the crowd had swallowed it whole. The music played on, oblivious to the strange tension creeping up my spine. “I don’t know,” I murmured.
“Maybe it was nothing.”
But I knew it wasn’t nothing. Something was watching me.
Something—or someone—who didn’t want me here.
As the man led me off the dance floor, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being pulled deeper into a mystery I wasn’t prepared for. And somehow, I knew that the answers I was seeking wouldn’t be easy to find.