Elara awoke with a start, her body jerking upright as she gasped for breath. Her heart raced, the vivid image of the cobblestone street and the man with piercing blue eyes lingering in her mind like a haunting dream. She was back in the attic, the dusty air thick around her, but the letters were gone. Her hands trembled as she looked around in confusion. Had it all been a dream? Had she imagined it?
But there was something different. The air felt charged, almost electric, and the world outside seemed quieter than before, as if the events she had just experienced had been erased from existence. She blinked, trying to clear her head, and when she reached for the box of letters, she realized they were gone.
Her pulse quickened. She rose to her feet, searching frantically through the attic, lifting trunks and shifting dust-covered boxes. Nothing. It was as if the letters had vanished into thin air.
She stumbled back, feeling a strange sense of loss, as if something precious had been ripped away from her. Her mind was spinning with questions she couldn't quite grasp. The man-the one who had called her "Isolde"-had looked so real. She had felt his presence as though he was standing right there beside her.
"Elara."
The voice echoed again in her mind, soft and insistent. This time, it wasn't a whisper from the letters but a thought, a memory. Her name, spoken from a distance, as though by someone who knew her intimately.
Her legs felt weak beneath her. The thought that she might have traveled through time was absurd, impossible. Yet, as she glanced at her hands, she saw a faint shimmer, as though the air around her was thick with something she couldn't quite touch.
She stumbled out of the attic, her breath coming in shallow gasps, and nearly collided with her grandmother, Vivienne, who was at the bottom of the stairs.
"Elara, are you all right?" Vivienne's voice was full of concern, but there was a trace of something else in her eyes—a look that made Elara pause. Had she noticed something strange?
"I-I'm fine," Elara muttered, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Just... a headache."
Vivienne frowned, watching her closely. "You look pale. Perhaps you're working too hard. It's not healthy to bury yourself in these old relics of the past. They've only caused trouble for this family."
Elara's stomach tightened. She had heard those words from her grandmother before. There were always rumors about the Whitmore family being cursed, a history of misfortune that surrounded the old estate. But none of it had ever made sense to her-until now.
"Grandmother," Elara said, her voice trembling slightly, "do you know anything about-about letters? Old ones, from... a man named Alexander?"
Vivienne's face went pale, her eyes darting quickly to the floor. For a moment, she didn't speak. Then, with a heavy sigh, she said, "It's a story best left forgotten, Elara. There are some things that should stay buried."
Elara's heart sank. "But why? What happened?"
Vivienne took a deep breath and slowly approached her, her steps hesitant, as if every word she was about to say pained her. "Many years ago, your ancestor, Isolde, fell in love with a man named Alexander. They were meant to be together. But something happened—something that tore them apart. Those letters you found, they're not just old writings. They're part of a curse that has haunted our family for generations."
Elara's mind spun. "A curse?"
"Yes," Vivienne said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "A curse that ties you to that time. It's why the letters have resurfaced now. Alexander has been calling out to you across centuries, trying to reach Isolde. But he's trapped, and so is she. And now, so are you."
The words felt like a slap to Elara's face. Her body swayed, and she felt the world tilt beneath her feet. She had thought it was all in her imagination, a dream that her mind had conjured up. But now, with her grandmother's words, it was clear that whatever was happening, it was real.
"Then... I did see him." Elara whispered, her voice barely audible. "It wasn't a dream."
Vivienne's expression softened, her eyes filled with a kind of sadness that made Elara's chest tighten. "You must be careful, Elara. The past is not something to tamper with. Alexander may be reaching out to you, but it's not a love story you want to get involved in. You must forget about the letters, forget about him."
Elara's heart ached at the thought of leaving Alexander behind, even if she barely knew him. But something deep inside her-something ancient-refused to let it go. The pull, the connection she had felt in the vision, was undeniable.
"I can't," Elara whispered, more to herself than to her grandmother. "I have to find him."
Vivienne's face darkened. "Then you must understand the consequences. If you don't stop, you risk more than just your life-you risk the fate of the Whitmore family. The curse will claim you, just as it has claimed all the others before."
Before Elara could respond, the ground beneath her shook. The walls trembled as if the house itself was waking from a long slumber, and an eerie, familiar voice whispered through the air.
"Elara..."
Elara's heart raced. Her mind was spinning, but one thing was clear: She couldn't walk away now.
With one last glance at her grandmother, who looked both fearful and resigned, Elara turned and fled from the house, her heart set on finding the truth behind the letters, and the man who had called her name across centuries.
To be continued...