The Rift in Time

Chapter 1

The night was alive with screams. Smoke curled from burning huts, mixing with the acrid stench of fear and blood. Clara’s village, a peaceful cluster of homes near the river, was no longer a sanctuary. Shadows danced in the firelight, twisted by the terror that had invaded their quiet lives.

Clara crouched behind a shattered wall, her heart hammering so violently she was sure the attackers could hear it. The air was thick with the scent of burning wood and iron, and each wail from her neighbours sliced through her chest like a knife. She had always known her lineage carried weight, that her family was special—but she hadn’t realized it would make them a target. “Clara! Run!” her grandmother’s voice pierced through the chaos. The old woman’s hand trembled as she clutched a small pendant around her neck—a family heirloom Clara had always been told to protect.

Villains clad in dark, jagged armour stormed through the village, their eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. Their leader, a tall figure with a scar that cut across his face like a curse, shouted orders in a language older than the river itself. Each strike of their weapons was

calculated, merciless, leaving no one alive in their path.

Clara felt a cold fear squeeze her chest. She wanted to fight to protect her family, but her body was trembling. And then, as if responding to her desperation, a strange warmth surged through her chest. It started small, like a spark, then grew, filling every nerve, every fibre of her being.

“Go! Go now, Clara!” her grandmother urged, her eyes glistening with tears and pride. Before Clara could question it, the warmth exploded outward. Time itself seemed to shiver. The firelight warped and stretched, the screams became distant echoes, and the ground beneath her feet disappeared. One moment, she was on scorched earth. The next, she was falling.

The world around her blurred, colours and shapes twisting in impossible ways. She felt weightless, suspended between moments, suspended between worlds. Then, as suddenly, as it began, it ended.

Clara landed hard, her knees buckling under her, in a garden she didn’t recognize. The air smelled of flowers and polished wood, not smoke and ash. Sunlight streamed down in golden warmth, casting long shadows across the manicured lawn. She blinked, trying to make sense of the strange surroundings.

A tall gate loomed behind her, and beyond it, a massive house gleamed with polished windows and white walls. The architecture was alien, unlike anything she had seen in her village. And then, voices—startled, uncertain voices—cut through her confusion.

“Who… who are you?” A man stepped into view, his tailored suit impeccable, but his eyes wide with shock.

Clara froze. She opened her mouth, but no words came. She didn’t understand this world, these people, or the strange clothes they wore. “I… I don’t know…” she whispered, her voice trembling. The woman behind the man gasped. “Where did you come from? How did you get in here?”

Clara shook her head, confusion and fear twisting her stomach. “I… I don’t know… I was” She stopped, realizing she had no words to explain the impossible.

The man exchanged a wary glance with his wife, then knelt down to meet Clara’s wide, terrified eyes. “It’s okay. You’re safe here,” he said softly, though uncertainty lingered in his tone.

Something about Clara struck them—her beauty, her wide, expressive eyes, the air of vulnerability mixed with an inexplicable strength. Despite their fear, they knew they could not turn her away.

“Let’s get her inside,” the woman murmured. “She’s… just a child, or a young woman. She needs help.”

Clara allowed herself to be led into the house, still trembling, still trying to understand what had happened. Outside, the city stretched endlessly, cars gliding down streets she had never imagined buildings that reached the clouds, lights that shone like captured stars. It was overwhelming, almost dreamlike.

She wanted to ask questions to understand why she was here, but for now, the only thing she could do was cling to the warmth of the strangers’ kindness. The couple offered her a seat, warm tea, and soft blankets. They didn’t press her, didn’t pry. They

simply let her breathe

But Clara knew—deep down—that this safety was temporary. Her past was not finished with her. The villains who had destroyed her village were still out there. And if they could find her here, in this strange,

shining city, no walls, no locks, could keep her safe.

Her hands trembled around the teacup, and for the first time since the fire, she allowed herself to feel the depth of her loss. Her village was gone, her family… perhaps gone. But one thing remained: she was alive. And somehow, inexplicably, she had been given a second chance.

Clara pressed the pendant her grandmother had given her to her chest. The warmth pulsed again, faint,

reassuring, like a heartbeat. Maybe it wasn’t just luck that had brought her here. Maybe, just maybe, her

destiny was only beginning.

Outside, unseen and silent, shadows moved in the distance. Eyes glimmered, scanning the horizon. The

villains from the past were not far behind, and the chase had only just begun.

Shadow seen outside the window—villains are tracking her.

—END OF CHAPTER 1—