The coffee was lukewarm.
Outside, the clouds hung like forgotten pages waiting to be written on.
Elian Synn sat at his usual corner table books stacked around him like a fortress.
History textbooks, printed maps, a worn-out leather journal. This was his sanctuary. Not a party, not a crowd. Just him and the past.
He loved how the past whispered, never shouted. The rise of kings, the fall of empires, the quiet steps of people long gone it all spoke to him.
As if they still wanted someone to listen.
"You're different," a voice said.
Elian looked up.
She stood before him like someone who didn't belong in this century. Black hair like night wind, eyes the color of old ink. Her presence felt… ancient.
"I'm sorry?" he replied.
The woman smiled, mysterious yet kind.
"You seek answers in the past, don't you? What if I told you... the past could answer back?"
He stared at her, uncertain if she was mocking him or reading something deeper.
"I'm Selene," she said, extending a hand.
"And I can take you there."
Elian hesitated but only for a breath.
And just like that, the pages of history began to turn no longer words, but worlds.