Alina awoke to the sensation of cool, damp earth beneath her fingertips and the distant sound of rustling leaves. A soft breeze carried the scent of fresh rain and blooming flowers, foreign yet oddly familiar. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a sky painted in hues of twilight, the last remnants of daylight fading into the embrace of the stars.
She gasped sharply, sitting up in alarm. This was not her city. This was not her world.
The air felt heavier, charged with an energy unlike anything she had ever known. Around her, towering trees loomed, their leaves swaying gently, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow upon the forest floor. Mist curled around her, thick and ghostly, as if the very fabric of the world was uncertain of her presence.
Her heart pounded as she looked down at herself. Gone were her modern clothes. Instead, she wore a flowing dress of deep blue and ivory, embroidered with delicate golden threads that shimmered in the dim light. The fabric was rich, heavy, whispering with each movement. Panic surged through her veins. How was this possible?
Memories of the night before came crashing into her mind—the celestial event, the whispered voices, the rift swallowing her whole. She had not merely dreamed of the past. She was here.
A sudden sound in the distance made her freeze.
The rhythmic beat of hooves against the earth. The jingling of ornamental bells. The hushed murmurs of many voices traveling together.
A procession.
Alina scrambled to her feet, pressing herself against the thick bark of a tree for cover. Through the shifting mist, she glimpsed figures moving along a winding dirt road just beyond the trees. Dozens of people, cloaked in fine silks, marched in unison. At the heart of the procession was an elaborately adorned palanquin, its golden embroidery glinting under the flickering lantern light. Guarding it were armoured riders, their hands resting on the hilts of swords, their gazes sharp and ever watchful.
Royalty.
Her breath hitched. This was a sight from another era, a moment pulled straight from the history books—only it was real, alive, and happening before her very eyes. She couldn't look away.
Then, as if drawn by instinct, her eyes found him.
Riding just ahead of the palanquin was a figure draped in black and crimson robes, seated atop a magnificent dark steed. His posture was commanding, exuding authority with effortless ease. His features were partially obscured by the veil of night, but she could make out the sharp lines of his jaw, the intensity in his gaze as he scanned the road ahead.
A pulse of recognition shot through her.
She knew him. Somehow, impossibly, she knew him.
A sudden snap of a branch beneath her foot shattered the fragile stillness. Alina's breath caught in her throat as one of the guards nearest to the procession turned sharply in her direction. His grip on his sword tightened.
"Who goes there?"
Alina froze, every muscle locking in place. The air itself seemed to still, as if the forest held its breath alongside her.
More guards turned, their attention now focused on the darkened treeline where she stood concealed. The moment stretched unbearably, until—
"Leave it," the deep voice of the crimson-robed rider commanded.
The guards hesitated but obeyed, returning to their positions. Alina pressed herself further into the shadows, her heart slamming against her ribs. The rider's gaze lingered for a fraction longer, scanning the trees as if sensing something—or someone—watching.
Then, without another word, the procession moved on, disappearing slowly into the mist.
Alina exhaled shakily, collapsing against the tree. The pounding in her chest did not subside. She had barely arrived in this strange, ancient world, and already she had brushed against forces far beyond her understanding.
One thing was certain—she was not meant to be here. And yet, fate had other plans.
Gathering her courage, she rose once more, casting a final glance toward the road where the procession had vanished. If she was to survive in this world, she needed to move. To find answers. And, perhaps, to find him.
Because the feeling deep in her bones told her this was only the beginning.