Elian's feet dragged beneath him as he followed Selene down a cobbled alley behind the cafe.
The fading twilight painted the bricks in hues of ochre and blue. He clutched his leather journal tight under his arm like a lifeline. Every step away from the cafe the world he knew felt like stepping off the edge of something he couldn't yet name.
She walked ahead with quiet certainty, not once checking to see if he was still following.
That, more than anything, made him trust her. This wasn't some magician's trick or a prank meant to confuse a lost history student. Her silence spoke of purpose. It demanded belief.
They reached a narrow door embedded into the side of an old building Elian had never noticed before. Weather-worn stone framed the entrance, with ivy curling along the edge as if nature itself tried to keep it hidden. Selene turned the iron handle. It opened with a groan.
Inside was darkness. Not total just enough to blur the details. A staircase led downward.
Selene finally looked back. "You can still leave. Once you step through, everything changes."
Elian's mouth went dry. "Why me?"
"Because you already live in the past. You're just not part of it yet."
It wasn't an answer, not really. But it was the truth.
He stepped inside.
The door creaked shut behind them, plunging the hallway into shadow. Selene lit an old lantern from the wall, its soft flame dancing like a heartbeat.
"This place," she said as they descended, "was built by those who understood time not as a line, but as a loop. They called themselves the Custodians."
"Are you one of them?"
"Not quite. I… work with them. I am what you'd call a Seeker."
"Like in the title of the book?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
She smiled faintly. "Perhaps."
The stairs ended in a chamber. The walls were stone, etched with symbols Elian didn't recognize. They looked old older than Latin, older than anything he'd seen even in ancient scrolls.
At the center of the room stood an archway made of obsidian and copper. It hummed faintly, a low vibration that Elian felt more than heard.
"That's it?" he asked. "That's the portal?"
"Time doesn't need grandeur. Just understanding."
Selene walked toward the arch and reached into her coat. She pulled out a small object a disk no larger than a coin, made of silver and engraved with spiraling lines.
"This," she said, placing the disk into a socket at the arch's base, "is the Chrono Dial. It stabilizes the entry point. Without it, we'd be scattered across eras."
The arch began to glow. Faint at first, then brighter. Light shimmered in the center like water struck by sunlight. It pulsed once, twice, then settled into a calm ripple.
Elian stepped closer. His heart pounded against his ribs.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"To the beginning."
She turned to him then. For the first time, Elian saw something beneath her calm exterior sadness. The kind that lived in the bones.
"Every traveler remembers their first time," she said. "The smell. The light. The weight of air that's not yet full of history."
He nodded slowly. "Ancient Sumer, right?"
Selene smiled. "You've done your homework."
He took a deep breath. "What happens if I die there?"
"You won't. Not today. But you need to remember something important, Elian. Time isn't a storybook. It's raw. It's alive. You can't change it but it can change you."
He swallowed. "I'm ready."
They stepped through the portal.
The sensation wasn't painful. It was like being pulled through warm water and wind at the same time. Elian's vision blurred. His thoughts scattered. He remembered his mother's voice reading bedtime stories, the smell of ink on his journal, the weight of years he'd spent studying people long gone.
Then the light faded.
The heat hit him first dry and heavy.
He opened his eyes.
They stood on a hill of sand overlooking a vast stretch of land carved by two rivers.
Mud-brick homes clustered near the riverbanks. People moved below clothed in simple linen, voices rising in a language Elian had only ever read about.
He blinked, dazed. "Is this... Sumer,"
Selene said quietly beside him. "Welcome to the cradle of civilization."
Elian's knees nearly gave out. His heart swelled. He was here. Not in a simulation, not in a textbook.
History was real. And he was walking through it.
She touched his arm. "Careful what you say, and how you say it. They don't know us. To them, we're just travelers from another land. We must blend in."
"And the language?"
Selene handed him a small stone carved with symbols. "It'll help you understand—ltemporarily. It's limited, but enough to get by. Don't lose it."
He turned it in his hand. It pulsed softly.
The noise of Sumer greeted them shouts, laughter, the grunts of oxen, the clang of tools.
This wasn't the version from books or documentaries. It was messy, loud, alive.
Elian took a shaky step forward.
And history embraced him.