EPISODE 3 — DON’T TRUST ADRIAN
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The paper trembled between Adrian's fingers.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Elara stared at the sentence.
DON'T TRUST ADRIAN.
Her own handwriting.
There was no mistaking it.
The same uneven curve of the letter E. The same way she crossed her t too high. The same small pressure mark where her pen usually dug into the paper.
But there was something impossible about it.
She hadn't written those words.
At least...
not yet.
"Give that to me."
Adrian's voice was quiet.
Elara immediately stepped forward and snatched the paper from his hand.
He didn't stop her.
She turned it over.
Nothing.
She held it toward the light.
Nothing.
"Where did this come from?"
Adrian didn't answer.
"Adrian."
His jaw tightened.
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything I say."
That answer made her pause.
He looked strangely calm.
Too calm.
As though he had already experienced this moment.
Elara's eyes narrowed.
"You knew I'd come."
Adrian looked at her.
"I suspected."
"You knew my name."
Silence.
"You said you remembered losing me."
His expression darkened.
"And now this appears telling me not to trust you."
Elara folded the paper tightly.
"So tell me the truth."
Adrian looked toward the distant mountains.
"The truth is not always something that can be told."
"Oh, please."
Elara gave a humorless laugh.
"I'm from 2026, I accidentally traveled back to 1897, an antique watch dragged me here, you apparently remember me even though we've never met, and now someone is leaving notes in my handwriting."
She pointed at him.
"I think we're way past the truth is complicated."
For the first time, the corner of Adrian's mouth lifted.
Barely.
"You talk too much."
Elara stared.
"And you don't talk enough."
"I noticed."
She folded her arms.
"Good."
A silence settled between them.
Then Adrian's eyes moved toward the forest.
"We need to leave."
"Why?"
"Because you aren't the only person who knows you're here."
Elara's smile disappeared.
"What does that mean?"
Before Adrian could answer—
a sharp whistle came from the trees.
The horses suddenly became restless.
One of the soldiers reached for his sword.
Adrian stepped in front of Elara.
"Stay behind me."
She frowned.
"Why?"
"Because whoever is coming didn't come to welcome you."
A second whistle.
Closer.
Then another.
Three riders emerged from the trees.
Their clothing was dark.
Their faces were partially covered.
The man in front raised his hand.
"Hand her over."
Elara's stomach dropped.
Adrian didn't move.
"No."
The stranger laughed.
"You know what she is."
Adrian's hand slowly moved toward his sword.
"Leave."
"She doesn't belong here."
Adrian's eyes hardened.
"Neither do you."
The stranger drew his weapon.
Everything happened at once.
One of Adrian's men charged.
Steel struck steel.
The horses screamed.
Elara stumbled backward.
Someone grabbed her wrist.
She screamed and twisted free.
"LET GO!"
The man reached for her again.
Adrian moved faster.
He struck the attacker across the arm, forcing him backward.
"Run!"
Elara didn't argue.
She ran.
Branches scratched her face as she pushed through the forest.
Behind her, she could hear shouting.
Metal clashing.
Someone calling Adrian's name.
She kept running until her lungs burned.
Then—
silence.
Elara stopped.
She leaned against a tree, breathing hard.
"Okay..."
She closed her eyes.
"Definitely the worst day of my life."
A twig snapped behind her.
She spun around.
Nobody.
Her breathing became shallow.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
She slowly stepped backward.
Then she noticed something hanging from a branch.
A small piece of red fabric.
She reached for it.
The moment her fingers touched it—
another vision struck.
A woman.
Standing in the same forest.
Wearing a long white dress.
Crying.
Adrian was standing beside her.
But he looked younger.
And in his arms—
was Elara.
Not the Elara from 2026.
Another Elara.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same small scar near her eyebrow.
The woman in the vision whispered:
"If she remembers, everything starts again."
Elara gasped.
The vision vanished.
She stumbled backward.
"What the hell..."
A voice came from behind her.
"You're not supposed to remember that."
Elara froze.
She slowly turned.
A man stood between the trees.
Not Adrian.
Not one of the soldiers.
He was dressed in black.
And unlike the others, he looked completely calm.
He smiled.
"I've been looking for you."
Elara couldn't speak.
The man took one step forward.
"You really don't remember me, do you?"
She shook her head.
"No."
His smile disappeared.
"That's unfortunate."
He reached inside his coat.
Elara stepped back.
"What do you want?"
He pulled out a small photograph.
He held it toward her.
Elara stared.
It was old.
Yellowed.
Cracked around the edges.
But the people in it were unmistakable.
A younger Adrian stood beside a woman.
The woman was—
Elara.
Her own face stared back at her from a photograph taken more than a century ago.
But that wasn't the part that terrified her.
Written beneath the photograph was a date.
October 17, 1897.
And beneath it, three words:
THEIR LAST DAY.
Elara looked up.
The stranger was gone.
Only the forest remained.
Then, somewhere far away—
the ancient clock began striking.
One.
Two.
Three.
Elara counted without knowing why.
Twelve strikes.
And on the final one, a voice whispered from behind her:
"Now you remember."
Elara couldn't move.
The photograph remained frozen between her fingers.
She looked at it again.
The woman standing beside Adrian had her face.
Not similar.
Not slightly similar.
Her face.
The same eyes. The same lips. Even the tiny beauty mark near the corner of her mouth.
It was as though someone had taken a photograph of Elara and somehow sent it more than a century into the past.
Her fingers tightened around the edges.
"This isn't possible."
She turned the photograph over.
Nothing.
She checked the front again.
Adrian.
The woman.
A dark building behind them.
And that date.
October 17, 1897.
Their last day.
"Last day of what?"
Her voice trembled.
A cold breeze moved through the trees.
No answer.
"Who was she?"
Silence.
Elara looked around.
The stranger was gone.
She should have been terrified.
She was.
But underneath the fear was something worse.
A strange ache.
She knew that face.
Not logically.
Not consciously.
But somewhere deep inside her, she recognized the woman.
She recognized herself.
A sudden memory flashed through her mind.
A man's hand holding hers.
Rain falling.
Someone screaming.
Adrian's voice.
"Don't close your eyes."
Elara gasped and grabbed her head.
"No..."
The memory disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
She looked down at the photograph again.
The woman's hand was resting against Adrian's chest.
On her finger was a ring.
Elara slowly looked at her own hand.
There was no ring.
But there was a faint red mark around her finger, as though one had been there recently.
Her stomach twisted.
Footsteps suddenly sounded behind her.
Elara spun around.
Adrian stood several feet away.
His coat was torn near the shoulder.
There was blood on his cheek.
"Elara."
She immediately stepped backward.
He stopped.
His eyes dropped to the photograph in her hand.
Something changed in his expression.
He looked almost heartbroken.
"Where did you get that?"
"A man gave it to me."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"What man?"
"I don't know."
He came closer.
Elara raised the photograph.
"Who is she?"
Adrian didn't answer.
"Who is she, Adrian?"
His eyes met hers.
For several seconds, the only sound was the wind moving through the trees.
Finally, he whispered,
"Someone I loved."
Elara's heart sank.
"Who?"
Adrian looked at her.
"You."
Her breath caught.
"No."
"You don't remember."
"I've never met you before."
"I know."
"Then why do you keep saying things like that?"
Adrian stepped closer.
"Because I have spent nineteen years remembering a woman who was supposed to be dead."
Elara stared at him.
"Nineteen?"
"I was six when she disappeared."
Elara looked at the photograph again.
"She disappeared?"
Adrian nodded.
"On October 17, 1897."
Elara's blood ran cold.
"But this photograph says—"
"I know."
He gently took the photograph from her.
His thumb brushed over the woman's face.
"She vanished that night."
Elara swallowed.
"And you remember her?"
"I remember everything."
He looked at Elara.
"Except how she came back."
The pocket watch in Elara's hand suddenly became warm.
Both of them looked down.
The hands had moved.
12:01.
Adrian's face went pale.
"That's not supposed to happen."
Elara looked at him.
"What?"
Before he could answer, the watch began ticking faster.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The forest around them seemed to blur.
The trees twisted.
The sky darkened.
Elara reached for Adrian.
"What's happening?"
He caught her hand.
"Whatever happens, don't let go."
The world flashed white.
And for one brief second, Elara saw the same woman from the photograph standing in front of her.
She smiled sadly.
Then whispered:
"You promised you'd come back."
The light vanished.
Elara collapsed against Adrian.
He caught her before she hit the ground.
Her eyes slowly closed.
The last thing she heard was Adrian's voice.
Not angry.
Not afraid.
Broken.
"I waited for you."
And somewhere inside the pocket watch, another tiny hand began moving.
Backward.
12:00.
11:59.
11:58.
Time was reversing.
And this time—
Elara remembered.
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