5

5

ADRIAN

My gaze darted around the cluttered consulate office, searching for a distraction, anything to tear my mind away from Amanda’s absence. A week. It had only been a week since her tear-stained face had disappeared out of my doorway, and the air still felt thick with the ghost of her jasmine perfume.

Stupid, prideful Adrian. The words echoed in my head, a constant refrain. Why did I care so much about what the others thought? Amanda, with her laugh that could chase away the worst shadows and eyes that held galaxies within them, deserved to be shown off, not hidden away like a shameful secret.

A sigh escaped my lips, a whoosh of hot air that did nothing to cool the embers of regret burning in my gut. The half-eaten sandwich on my desk mocked me. Food had lost its appeal, every bite a dull reminder of the life, the love, I’d let slip through my fingers.

My fist clenched around the pen, the cheap plastic digging into my palm. A choked sob escaped me. I squeezed my eyes shut, the image of Amanda’s lifeless body, crumpled on the floor of her tiny apartment, flashing behind my eyelids.

“No,” I rasped, the word a desperate plea to the uncaring universe.

A knock on the door shattered the suffocating silence of the room. “Come in,” I mumbled, my voice thick with despair.

Prince Eboe, his regal bearing slightly askew, poked his head through the doorway. “Ah, Adrian. There you are. I was just looking for you.”

“What is it, Prince?” I forced a smile, the effort almost comical.

He hesitated, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is everything alright, my friend? You look...” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “Devastated.”

The dam holding back my emotions finally burst. I slumped back in my chair, burying my face in my hands. The story tumbled out, a torrent of words and choked sobs. Amanda, the fight, the stupid jealousy, the trip... and then the news that shattered my world.

Prince Eboe listened patiently, his silence a calming presence in the storm of my grief. When I finally finished, a heavy silence settled between us.

“I understand your pain, Adrian,” he finally spoke, his voice gentle. “But dwelling on what ifs won’t bring her back.”

A flicker of hope, faint and fragile, sparked in my chest. “There has to be something, Prince. Anything!”

He pursed his lips, a thoughtful frown creasing his forehead. “There is... a possibility. Though it’s a long shot, at best.”

I straightened up, my entire being focused on his next words. “An ancient charm, passed down through generations in my family. It has the power to... rewind time in dire circumstances.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. Could this be it? A chance to undo my mistakes, to hold Amanda in my arms again?

“But there are limitations,” Prince Eboe continued, his voice grave. “The charm can only reverse an event within the first hour of it happening.”

The fragile hope in my chest shattered. An hour? Amanda had been dead for a week. The weight of despair threatened to crush me once more.

“I know,” Prince Eboe placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one you have.”

Desperation clawed at me. Even if there was a minuscule chance, I had to take it. “What do I need to do?”

The prince explained the ritual, a complex dance of chanting, herbs, and moonlight. It sounded archaic, bordering on ridiculous, but at that point, I was willing to try anything.

The night of the ritual arrived, the air thick with anticipation. As I chanted the words, a foreign feeling washed over me, a tingling sensation that spread through my body. For a heart-stopping moment, nothing happened. Then, a wave of dizziness hit me, the consulate building swirling around me before everything went black.

When I opened my eyes, I was disoriented. The familiar beige walls of my office were gone, replaced by a scene straight out of a fever dream. The consulate building looked... different. Older. And the bustling street outside was filled with cars that looked like they belonged in a museum.

Disbelief clawed at me. Had it worked? Was I back in time?

A giggle broke through my stupor.

Relief, thick and syrupy, flooded my veins. It had worked. The ancient ritual, the chanting under the sliver of a moon, it had all been worth it. There she was, Annalisa, across the crowded marketplace, a riot of color in a sea of muted tones. Her fiery red hair, usually tamed into a bun, escaped in fiery tendrils around her face, a rebellion against the oppressive atmosphere.

But something was wrong. The familiar twinkle in her eyes, the one that could turn a thunderstorm into a gentle breeze, was missing. Replaced by a haunted look, a flicker of fear dancing in the depths. My gut clenched. What had happened?

I followed her discreetly, weaving through the throngs of people, the air thick with the smell of spices and roasting meat. She stopped abruptly, her gaze fixed on a weathered wooden sign hanging above a dimly lit tavern.

“The Rusty Nail,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

The Rusty Nail. A notorious gambling den, a place where fortunes were won and lost in the blink of an eye. Dread coiled around my heart. This wasn’t the Annalisa I knew, the one who wouldn’t touch a deck of cards with a ten-foot pole.

Hesitantly, she pushed open the creaking door, disappearing into the smoky depths. I cursed under my breath. There was no way I could follow her in there without blowing my cover. This whole time-travel business was turning out to be trickier than Prince Eboe had made it sound.

The minutes ticked by like molasses in January. Every creak of the door, every raised voice from within, sent shivers down my spine. Then, a commotion erupted. Shouting, the unmistakable clatter of coins scattering across the floor, and finally, Annalisa’s voice, sharp and laced with panic.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Bursting through the door, I scanned the room. Smoke hung heavy in the air, obscuring the scene. A group of burly men surrounded Annalisa, their faces contorted in predatory grins. One of them, a hulking brute with a missing tooth, held a crumpled wad of bills in his hand.

“Looks like the little lady’s all out of luck,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Annalisa met his gaze, her chin held high despite the tremor in her hands. “That money was mine! I won it fair and square!”

The men roared with laughter, a sound that scraped against my insides. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Annalisa, framed for a crime she didn’t commit, sentenced to death – that was the future I’d come back to change.

“Enough!” I bellowed, my voice echoing in the cramped tavern. All eyes turned towards me.

“Who are you?” the toothless man snarled, taking a menacing step forward.

“A friend,” I bluffed, trying to project an air of confidence I didn’t entirely feel. “And I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” the man scoffed. “She cheated! We all saw it!”

“Did you now?” I countered, my gaze sweeping over the room. “Funny, I seem to recall you lot dealing a marked deck yourselves.”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. The men exchanged nervous glances, their bravado faltering slightly.

“Lies!” the toothless man roared, but the fire in his eyes had dimmed.

“Let’s settle this like gentlemen,” I said, pushing forward a pouch of gold that felt suspiciously lighter than it should have been thanks to a generous “donation” from Prince Eboe’s private stash. “Double what she won. Consider it a wager on the truth.”

The men hesitated, the lure of easy money battling with the fear of being caught cheating. Finally, the toothless man snatched the pouch, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.

“This ain’t over, fancy pants,” he growled, before grabbing his cronies and stomping out of the tavern.

The room erupted in cheers, a wave of relief washing over the patrons. Annalisa, however, remained frozen in place, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Who... who are you?” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

I took a deep breath. This was the hard part. “Someone who cares,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Let’s just say I have a vested interest in making sure you get a fair shake.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion, but a spark of gratitude flickered in her eyes. We slipped out of the tavern, the cool night air a welcome change from the stale smoke.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. “Whoever you are, you saved me”

She doesn’t know, but this is not going to be the first or the last time I would save her.