The morning sun poured over the rooftops of Rome like molten gold, catching on marble statues and bronze rooftops until the whole city seemed to shimmer. The faint hum of the market below reached Ivy's ears as she stepped back into her carriage. Her guards followed, attentive and silent, though she scarcely noticed them; her mind still lingered on the masked man from before. There was something unsettlingly graceful about his presence — yet, as the Carpentum moved forward, the memory drifted away like smoke.
She would turn her gaze outward, ready instead to lose herself in the world outside.
The Carpentum wheels rolled over stone-paved streets lined with colonnaded shops and busy merchants. Wherever Ivy turned her glance, color and life unfolded before her: traders of bolts of linen dye from Tyre, baskets of figs and olives spilling their scents into the air, the chatter of Latin phrases mixing with the cadence of hooves.
As the carriage emerged from the narrow lanes surrounding Trajan's Market, the city opened before her in full magnificence.
From her vantage, she could see the freshly completed Forum of Trajan with its immense marble courtyard shining. A statue of the emperor himself stood high over the throngs of people, the bronze flashing in the noonday sun. The scent of incense wafted from a nearby temple, mingling with the smell of roasted grain and perfumed oils. Ivy felt her chest tighten-not with fear, but with wonder.
The world she had studied only through dusty books and museum glass was alive, breathing, and utterly real.
As the carriage slowed, she could see more clearly: philosophers clustered under a portico, arguing with wide gesticulations while the scrolls they held flapped in the breeze; children playing tag across a mosaic courtyard, their shrieks of delight like a chorus of birds; and from farther down an alley, the steady, ringing clang of the blacksmith's hammer merged with the chorus of a street musician's lyre.
"Stop here," Ivy said softly.
Her guards exchanged a look but did as she bade, reining in the horses near the edge of the Forum. She stepped down, her sandals brushing the dust of an empire beneath her feet.
Beauty was everywhere, from the shining steps of the Temple of Mars Ultor to the solemn grandeur of Basilica Ulpia, whose vaulted ceilings seemed to merge together in shades of blue and gold. The air shimmered with heat and life.
A flock of white doves scattered overhead as she crossed into the bustling heart of the marketplace. Traders from every corner of the known world had gathered there: Egyptians in flowing linen selling papyrus scrolls and perfumes; Parthian jewelers displaying turquoise and lapis; Greek sculptors chiseling delicate figures from pure white stone. Ivy passed them all, feeling both foreign and at home.
Beyond the market, she saw the Roman Forum stretching up to the Palatine Hill. There, in pairs, senators in pure togas walked with firm, mannered gestures, debating affairs of the state. The Temple of Saturn stood watch with its proud columns rising high into the bright sky. Gold gleamed mutedly from inside — the treasury of the empire, she remembered.
Her breath caught. Every corner of the city seemed to whisper history.
As she continued walking, the Arch of Titus rose before her — still unweathered by time, its reliefs crisp and alive, depicting victories yet fresh in Roman memory. Beyond it, the distant rumble of cheers drifted from the Circus Maximus, where chariot races were underway. The noise rolled like thunder across the city, the energy of thousands united in excitement. Ivy smiled faintly, picturing the blur of horses and dust beneath the Roman sun.
The carriage followed slowly behind her as she wandered up the slope toward the Palatine Hill. From its gentle rise, the whole panorama of Rome unrolled below her: the red-tiled roofs, the glittering domes, the curve of the Tiber River curling serpentlike in silver through the heart of the city. On the far side of the river, she could see the Mausoleum of Augustus still shining with marble facades and, close by, the new Temple of Claudius, standing tall as a testimonial to emperors past.
She paused, drinking it all in — the sheer expanse of the Eternal City at its peak.
How strange it was to see the world she had studied for so long not as ruins but real, with no missing pillars, no broken arches, no half-buried stones, but everything whole and proud, full of people whose voices would one day fade into the silence of history.
A procession of musicians strode by her, playing pipes and drums; then came dancers, garlanded with ribbons. Children clapped to their antics. Ivy giggled softly, charmed. For one instant, she felt the centuries slip away utterly; she was no traveler, no stranger, but a woman of Rome, walking its streets as if native-born.
She felt the depth of her wonder increase upon reaching the Pantheon. Its great dome loomed overhead, almost like the vault of heaven, as sunlight poured through the oculus to illuminate the marble floor below. Priests tended altars within, and the faint echo of prayers was virtually heard outdoors. Ivy's fingers brushed one of the great bronze doors-warm under the sun-and she felt an inexplicable shiver, as if the amulet around her neck recognized the divine geometry surrounding her.
She turned next toward the Baths of Agrippa, where laughter and conversation filled the air. Aromatic scents of oils and herbs wafted through the courtyard, mingling with steam rising from marble pools. Nobles were reclining on benches, with servants standing over them with trays of fruit and wine. Beyond them stretched lush gardens dotted with fountains shaped as nymphs and sea gods.
Her guards followed at a respectful distance so as not to intrude on her quiet reverie.
As the afternoon wore on, Ivy found herself approaching Campus Martius, where soldiers were drilling in perfect formation, their armor flashing in the sun like a living river of bronze and steel. And farther on, young men in athletic contests raced across the field, their cries of triumph ringing out; she could almost smell the tang of sweat and dust, hear the ring of weapons, feel the pulse of a civilization built on discipline and ambition.
From there, her gaze swept to catch the Theater of Pompey, its wide tiers alive with spectators watching some performance, the scent of incense and fresh laurel leaves heavy in the air. Actors moved upon the stage, their gestures grand and expressive even from that distance. Ivy lingered, caught by a scene from a tragedy she knew, one she had once studied in translation. To see it performed by those who first lived it took her breath away in wordless wonder.
By the time she reached the Tiber's edge, the sky had started to turn amber. Boats drifted lazily on the river, their sails aglow in the fading light. The fishermen, in rough Latin, called out as they hauled in, while merchants unloaded amphorae of oil and wine. On the other side of the water, the domes of temples caught fire with the sunset, reflecting the glory of a city that counted itself eternal.
For a long time, Ivy just stood there, her heart full. Even here, the hum of the marketplace reached her — a steady beat of voices, laughter, life.
So much of what she had once believed lost was here before her eyes, alive and perfect.
She had thought of the ruins she had walked among in her own time, cracked columns overgrown with ivy, silent streets where ghosts of empire lingered. And to see it like this, in its prime, was to stand inside a dream she never wanted to end.
The amulet at her throat glimmered faintly in the dying light. She touched it absently, smiling.
For now, she would not think of how or why she was here. The mysteries could wait, and the past could keep its secrets a little longer.
For now, nothing else mattered but the wonder that was Rome — alive, pulsating, aglow with the changing sun.
Distant temple bells softly rang across the hills as day gave way to twilight. Torches were being lighted along the main streets; golden light spilling from the taverns and homes met with the cool blue of the encroaching night. Aromatic roasted grain and wine wafted through the air once again.
Ivy turned to her guards, who were standing silently next to the carriage. "Let's go home," she murmured, though the word home felt strangely uncertain. As the carriage started to roll once more along the glowing streets, Ivy turned back towards the city-a vast ocean of light and stone, beauty and life-and deep inside herself a quiet joy stirred. She had yet to know how her peaceful wonder would soon be shattered by truths hidden at the very heart of the city. For now, Rome was perfect — eternal, unbroken, alive. And she was part of it.