Elara's POV
Cold stone pressed against my cheek.
I jerked awake, gasping. My head pounded like someone had taken a hammer to my skull. Every muscle in my body ached.
Where was I? This wasn't my apartment. The mattress under me felt wrong—too soft, too thick. And why did everything smell like lavender and old wood?
I forced my eyes open.
A scream died in my throat.
I was lying on a massive bed with heavy curtains. Above me, a ceiling made of dark stone stretched upward. No popcorn texture. No water stains. Just smooth, ancient-looking rock.
Torches flickered on the walls. Actual torches with real fire.
"What the hell?" I sat up fast—too fast. Dizziness hit me like a wave. I grabbed the bedpost to steady myself and froze.
My hand looked wrong. Too clean. The burn scar I'd gotten from a coffee pot three years ago—gone. The calluses from years of waitressing—vanished. My nails were perfectly shaped and clean, like I'd just gotten a manicure.
I looked down at myself and my heart stopped.
I was wearing a dress. Not a normal dress—a heavy silk gown in deep burgundy with long sleeves and gold embroidery. The kind of thing you'd see in a museum or a really expensive costume shop.
"Okay. Okay. This is a dream." I pinched my arm hard. "Wake up, Elara. Wake up!"
Pain shot through my skin, sharp and real.
Not a dream.
I scrambled off the bed, my bare feet hitting freezing stone floor. A window across the room showed early morning light. I ran to it and looked out.
My legs nearly gave out.
No cars. No buildings. No power lines or streetlights or anything from the twenty-first century. Instead, I saw a courtyard made of cobblestones, people in medieval-looking clothes carrying water buckets, and beyond that—a forest so thick and wild it couldn't possibly exist in Los Angeles.
"No. No no no no—" I backed away from the window, my breath coming in short gasps.
The door opened.
A woman entered wearing a simple dress and an apron, her hair covered by a white cloth. She looked about forty, with kind eyes and rough hands. When she saw me awake, she smiled and said something in a language I'd never heard before.
Except I understood every word.
"Oh good, my lady! You're finally awake. We were so worried when you collapsed last night."
"How—" I pressed my hand against my temple. "How do I understand you?"
She tilted her head, confused. "My lady, are you feeling unwell? Should I fetch the healer?"
Before I could answer, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. The servant woman's face went pale. She curtsied quickly and rushed out.
Baron Aldric Thorne walked in.
But he looked different now. Gone was the expensive modern suit. Instead, he wore dark velvet robes trimmed with fur, and his hair was longer, tied back with a leather cord. He looked like he'd stepped out of a Renaissance painting.
"Good morning, Elara." His voice was cold now. No warmth. No fake fatherly concern. "I trust you slept well?"
"Where am I?" My voice came out as a whisper. "What did you do to me?"
"I brought you home." He closed the door behind him and locked it. The click echoed like a gunshot. "Or rather, I brought you to where you're needed."
"I don't understand—"
"Let me make this simple." He walked toward me, and I backed up until I hit the wall. "You are no longer in Los Angeles. You are no longer in the year 2024. That coin I gave you was a conduit—a magical bridge between worlds and times. It transported you 800 years into the past, to the Arkadian Empire."
Laughter bubbled up in my throat, high and panicked. "That's insane. Time travel isn't real. Magic isn't real!"
"Look around you." His gesture took in the stone room, the torches, everything. "Does this look like your world?"
"This is some kind of trick. A setup. Maybe you drugged me—"
"Check your phone."
I fumbled in my pocket—except the dress didn't have pockets. Panic clawed at my chest. "Where's my phone? Where are my clothes?"
Aldric pointed to a small table near the bed. My phone sat there, screen dark and cracked. I grabbed it, pressed the power button.
Nothing.
I tried again. And again. The screen stayed black.
"No service here, I'm afraid," Aldric said with mock sympathy. "Wrong century for cell towers."
"Why?" The word came out broken. "Why would you do this?"
His face hardened. "Because I need you."
"For what?"
"The Emperor has commanded me to provide a bride for Duke Kael Vorsaith." He said the name like a curse. "Do you know what they call him? The Reaper of Shadowmere. He's been engaged eight times. Seven brides are dead. All died within weeks of their weddings."
Ice flooded my veins. "You brought me here to... to marry a murderer?"
"I brought you here because I can't send my real daughter." His voice turned vicious. "Vivienne is legitimate. She has a reputation to maintain, a future to protect. But you? You're a bastard. Nobody in this world knows you exist. Perfect."
The words hit like punches. "I'm your daughter too—"
"You're a tool." He stepped closer. "Tomorrow, you will marry Duke Vorsaith. You will go to his castle. And whatever happens after that is no longer my concern."
Rage burned through my fear. "No. I won't do it. You can't make me!"
I ran for the door, grabbed the handle, pulled—
Locked.
I spun around. Aldric watched me with cold amusement.
"Let me out!" I screamed, pounding on the heavy wood. "Help! Someone help me!"
"No one's coming." Aldric's voice was calm. "This is your new reality, Elara. Accept it."
I looked around desperately. The window—maybe I could climb down, find someone who'd help me—
I ran to it, but Aldric was faster. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back so hard I stumbled.
"Enough!" His hand cracked across my face.
The slap echoed through the room. Pain exploded across my cheek. I fell against the wall, tasting blood.
No one had ever hit me before. Ever.
Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I touched my stinging cheek and stared at this man who shared my DNA but felt like a stranger. Worse than a stranger—a monster.
"You will behave," Aldric said quietly, dangerously. "You will smile. You will marry the duke. Or I will have you arrested for witchcraft and burned at the stake before the wedding even happens. Do you understand?"
My voice was barely a whisper. "You're evil."
"I'm practical." He walked to the door and unlocked it. "The maids will bring you breakfast and prepare you for tomorrow's ceremony. I suggest you cooperate. The duke may be your death sentence, but I promise—defying me will be far worse."
He left, the lock clicking behind him.
I sank to the floor, my whole body shaking. This couldn't be real. It couldn't be happening.
But the stone was cold under me. My cheek throbbed with pain. And outside the window, a world that shouldn't exist continued on without caring that my life had just shattered.
I pulled my knees to my chest and tried to think. There had to be a way out. There had to be—
The door opened again.
A girl walked in—about my age, with blonde hair and a beautiful dress. She looked at me sitting on the floor and smiled. But it wasn't a kind smile.
It was the smile of a cat who'd cornered a mouse.
"So you're the bastard." Her voice dripped with honey and poison. "I'm Vivienne Thorne. You know, the real daughter? The one who was supposed to marry the Reaper?" She crouched down to my level. "They say he drains his brides' blood while they sleep. That their screams echo through his castle for hours before they finally die."
She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with cruelty.
"I wonder how long you'll last before you start screaming."