Celeste motioned for Isadora to sit at the small table by the window. The soft morning light revealed a room of antique elegance, where every object carried its weight of history and tradition
Celeste studied the young woman before her, concern flickering in her sharp gaze. "Isadora, where are you from?"
Isadora hesitated for only a moment before answering. "New York."
Celeste tilted her head. "New… York?" The name rolled off her tongue uncertainly as if she were testing a foreign word. "I don't believe I've ever heard of such a place."
Isadora blinked. "You're joking, right?"
Celeste's expression remained composed. "I assure you, I am not."
A strange chill crept up Isadora's spine. She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "You don't know New York? The city? Skyscrapers, taxis, Times Square? The place that never sleeps?"
Celeste's face remained politely blank.
Isadora's stomach twisted. "Okay," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "This is insane. What's the date?"
Celeste exchanged a glance with the servant standing nearby before answering. "It is the twelfth day of Veridale, in the year 1347 of the Elarian Calendar."
Isadora's breath caught. "What."
Celeste frowned slightly. "I take it that is not the answer you expected."
Isadora felt the blood drain from her face. "No. No, it is not. Isadora let out a shaky breath, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Okay, okay. Let's just—let's back up." She looked up at Celeste, her voice growing more frantic. "New York is a massive city, bigger than anything you've probably ever seen. Skyscrapers that touch the clouds, cars everywhere, people rushing down the streets, lights so bright it looks like daytime even at night."
Celeste listened intently, her expression unreadable.
"We have technology—phones, airplanes, the internet. We don't use carriages anymore, we have—" She stopped herself, realizing how ridiculous she must have sounded. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"
Celeste shook her head slowly. "No. And from the way you speak, it seems as though your world is far beyond anything I have ever known." She folded her hands in her lap. "Isadora… I believe you are not simply lost. You have traveled through time and space."
Isadora froze.
Her mind refused to process the words. "That's not possible," she said flatly.
Celeste met her gaze evenly. "And yet, you speak of things that do not exist, from a city I have never heard of, in a time that is far ahead of my own."
Isadora shook her head violently. "No. No, that's insane. Time travel isn't real! It's—it's fiction, it's science fiction! This isn't some movie!"
Celeste remained calm as Isadora pushed herself up from the chair and began pacing. "There has to be another explanation. Maybe I hit my head. Maybe this is some elaborate prank. Or—or I'm in a coma somewhere, dreaming all of this."
She turned to Celeste, her eyes wide, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Tell me you're messing with me. Tell me this is all some bizarre misunderstanding."
Celeste sighed, standing. "I wish I could. But everything points to the same conclusion." She gestured toward the window. "Look outside. Does this world look anything like the one you described?"
Isadora hesitated before stepping toward the window. She gripped the frame, staring out at the sprawling estate, the distant forests, the lack of anything remotely modern. No cars, no buildings, no neon signs—just an unfamiliar world that seemed centuries behind the one she knew.
Her breathing quickened.
Celeste spoke gently. "I do not know how or why this happened, but I do know this—you are here now, and panicking will not change that."
Isadora turned away from the window, her voice unsteady. "Then what the hell am I supposed to do?"
Celeste folded her hands in front of her. "For now, you must accept this truth, I know it will take time but you will have to especially since we have no way for you to go back to your home—"
"What?"
"–For now. Then you have to learn about this world—its customs, its rules. You need to blend in until we can figure out how to send you back."
Isadora let out a dry laugh. "Blend in? I don't even know where the hell I am, and you want me to just play along like I belong here?"
Celeste gave her a calm, measured look. "If you wish to survive here, yes. Until we understand how you arrived here and how to get you back, we must ensure you do not attract the wrong kind of attention."
Isadora narrowed her eyes. "Why are you helping me? You don't even know me."
Celeste exhaled, then took a step closer. "Because if what you say is true, then you are proof of something that has long been dismissed as legend." She glanced toward the small wooden box on the nearby table—the same one that had held the Bracelet of Time. "Time travel is believed to be nothing more than myth, an old story whispered among scholars and mages. But you—" she gestured at Isadora "—you are living proof that it is real."
Isadora followed her gaze, her stomach twisting. "You think the bracelet did this?"
Celeste nodded. "I suspect so. Which is why I wish to study it. If there is a way to understand its magic, then there is a way to control it. And if I am to help you, then you must have a place here—a reason to exist in this world without suspicion."
Isadora crossed her arms. "And how exactly do we pull that off?"
Celeste offered a small smile. "You will be my foster daughter."
Isadora blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"
Celeste clasped her hands behind her back. "A young woman appearing out of nowhere with no past and no connections will raise too many questions. But as my daughter, no one will dare question your place here. You will have protection, resources, and time to find the answers you seek."
Isadora ran a hand through her hair, still damp from earlier. "So let me get this straight. You want me to pretend to be your daughter while you study the bracelet and figure out how the hell I got here?"
"Yes."
She let out a slow breath, glancing around the lavish room again before looking back at Celeste. "This is all crazy."
"Perhaps," Celeste admitted. "But it is also necessary."
Isadora stared at her for a long time then exhaled. "We need a solid backstory."
Celeste's lips twitched in amusement. "A fitting story. One that surely has to be perfected."
Isadora shook her head, muttering, "This is so messed up."
Celeste merely smiled. "Welcome to your new life, my dear."
Isadora crossed her arms. "Don't you already have a daughter or something?"
Celeste's expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something unreadable. "No. I have no children of my own."
"Oh, I'm so sorry about that," Isadora's expression turned apologetic, and gave her a small smile. "I guess… That kind of makes it convenient, right?"
Celeste merely gave a knowing smile.
Isadora sighed, rubbing her temples. "Alright, if I'm going to be playing noble daughter, I should probably know exactly who I'm supposed to be." She glanced at Celeste's elegant attire and the refined decor of the room. "What's your position? You're important."
Celeste studied her for a moment before answering. "My husband is an Earl. As his wife, I hold the title of Countess."
Isadora's eyes widened slightly. "Wait, so I'm—" She stopped, thinking back to the history lectures she half-listened to and the museum tours she guided. "If you're a Countess and I'm your daughter, does that make me a Lady?"
Celeste nodded. "Yes. As my foster daughter, you would be addressed as Lady Isadora."
Isadora let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "Again, this is all crazy. Yesterday, I was just a museum employee giving tours about Victorian etiquette, and now I'm supposed to live it?"
Celeste arched a brow. "Then perhaps you already have some knowledge of our customs?"
Isadora scoffed. "Yeah, but knowing history and living it are two very different things. I mean, I know which fork to use and how to curtsy, but I also know that women didn't exactly have a lot of freedom back then." She frowned. "Which means I'm going to have to follow a whole set of rules, don't I?"
Celeste gave a small smile. "You are quick to understand. Yes, there will be expectations. But I believe you are capable of adapting."
Isadora groaned. "Great. Just what I needed—a crash course in noble etiquette while trying to figure out how to time travel."
Celeste chuckled softly. "Consider it part of your survival."
Isadora sighed dramatically. "Fine. But if I have to wear a corset, I swear I'm rioting."