The clock struck thirteen. It should not have,
but it did. The pocket watch in Elias’s hand
trembled as if aware of its own impossibility.
He had been sent back—no, forced back—to 1812,
to a London that still wore gaslight like a
shroud. His mission: protect Lady Evangeline
Hartwell, whose family held a secret more
dangerous than any war.
He found her in the library, bent over a ledger,
her fingers stained with ink. She was no damsel,
though she looked like one in the candlelight.
Her eyes flicked to his uniform—a modern
tactical gear, mismatched with the era—and she
frowned. “You are not the footman,” she said,
voice sharp as a blade.
Elias said nothing. Words were wasted on those
who didn’t know how to listen. He had been
trained for this: silence, observation, and the
cold precision of a man who had once fought in
wars that never happened. But here, in this past,
he was a ghost. A stranger. And worse—his
presence had already altered the timeline.
The heirloom was the key. A silver locket shaped
like a wolf’s head, passed down through the
Hartwell line. It was not just an ornament. It
was a trigger. A catalyst. When touched by
moonlight, it awakened something in the blood.
Something ancient. Something hungry.
Elias had seen it before—in the ruins of a
future that no longer existed. Werewolves. Not
myth, but fact. Not legend, but law. In his time,
they had been hunted to extinction. Here, they
thrived in shadows, hidden behind titles and
polite smiles.
Lady Evangeline had inherited the locket, and
with it, a curse. Every full moon, she
transformed. Every transformation, a step closer
to losing herself. She had kept it secret, but
the curse was spreading. A nobleman’s son had
vanished, leaving only claw marks on the stable
door. A maid had screamed in the night, her
throat torn open.
Elias’s orders had been clear: protect her. But
the rules had changed. The future he came from
had been rewritten by this era’s magic, its laws
bending under the weight of old bloodlines. He
could not simply take her away. That would
fracture the timeline further.
Instead, he worked in the shadows. He watched as
her betrothed, Lord Sebastian Blackwood, plotted
against her. A man of wealth and influence, he
sought to claim the locket for himself,
believing it to be a relic of power. Elias knew
better. It was a prison. A cage for the beast
within.
On the eve of the full moon, the duel took place.
A challenge issued by Blackwood, a public
spectacle to humiliate Evangeline. If she lost,
the locket would be his. If she won, she would
be free. But freedom was not an option. The
locket had to be destroyed.
Elias stood at the edge of the crowd, cloaked in
darkness. He had no right to intervene, but he
did. As the duel began, he moved swiftly, unseen.
He struck first, knocking Blackwood off balance.
Then, he reached for the locket, feeling the
heat of its magic pulse beneath his fingers.
The transformation came fast. Evangeline’s body
twisted, her form shifting into something feral,
something wild. The crowd screamed. The beast
roared. And then—silence.
Elias held the locket in his palm, watching as
it cracked under the pressure of his grip. The
magic inside died with a whisper. The curse was
broken.
But the cost was high. The timeline had shifted
again. The future he knew was gone. Now, he was
trapped in this world, bound to a woman who had
once been his charge, now his equal.
No more missions. No more rules. Just her, and
the life they would build in the ruins of what
had been.
The clock struck thirteen again. This time, it
felt like a beginning.
