The keeper of time

Chapter 3: Through the Veil of Time

Chapter 3: Through the Veil of Time

Anaya's Perspective

The world swirled around me in a dizzying blur of colors and sounds, and my stomach lurched as the marketplace shifted, dissolving into fragments of light. I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance as the ground beneath me seemed to melt and reform. Everything felt wrong. My skin prickled with unease, and my heart pounded like a drum against my ribs. A sheen of cold sweat broke out on my neck, trickling down below my ears, chilling me even though the air was warm and thick with the scent of incense.

My breathing was shallow and rapid, and I could feel the pulse of fear in my throat. I was no longer in control. I had no idea how I'd ended up here, no idea where here even was, but the panic was rising fast, clawing at my chest. I clenched my hands into fists to steady myself, feeling the sweat slick against my palms.

I looked down at my clothes, hoping for something familiar to ground me. But what I saw sent a fresh wave of dread through me. Gone were the heavy woolen jacket and cargo pants I'd been wearing in the cold mountains. Instead, my body was draped in a sari—thin, flowing, and unfamiliar. It was a deep maroon, edged in gold embroidery, and though it was beautiful, it felt foreign against my skin. The fabric clung to me, highlighting every movement, and I felt exposed, vulnerable.

My hair, which had been a messy tangle of waves back at camp, was now neatly parted down the middle, with strands twisted and pinned back. Long, black curls spilled down my back in soft waves, almost too perfect, too neat. I touched my cheek, my fingers grazing over skin that felt dry and cool in the warm air. I could feel the tension in my jaw, the tautness in my expression, my face still frozen in shock.

I wanted to scream, to shout for Raghav, Aarav, anyone. But my voice wouldn't come. It felt lodged in my throat, trapped beneath the weight of my confusion and fear. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and tried to steady my breathing. I couldn't afford to panic. Not yet.

The marketplace began to sharpen into focus again. I looked up, blinking away the dizziness, and the scene around me settled into clarity. I was standing in the middle of a vast square, lined with stone buildings carved in intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with life. People moved around me, their steps light and purposeful, draped in flowing robes of every color imaginable. The men wore loose dhotis, their bodies adorned with simple jewelry, while the women were dressed in vibrant saris, their foreheads marked with vermilion and kohl outlining their dark eyes.

They moved with a calm, almost regal grace, completely at ease in their surroundings. Their skin glowed in the warm light, their expressions serene, as if nothing in the world could disturb them. They were beautiful, elegant, untouched by the confusion and fear that gripped me.

I, on the other hand, must have looked like a ghost among them. I could feel my sweat-soaked skin prickling under the weight of their silent scrutiny, though none of them seemed to notice me. It was as if I were invisible, a phantom walking among the living.

I took a step forward, my sandals slapping against the smooth stone ground. The sensation of the thin soles felt strange beneath my feet—too light, too delicate compared to the sturdy boots I was used to. I felt unsteady, off balance, as if even the way I walked was no longer my own.

Every muscle in my body was tense, as if expecting something terrible to happen at any moment. My heartbeat roared in my ears, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. My eyes darted around, trying to take in every detail of this world I didn't belong to.

The buildings were nothing like the modern structures I had known. Each one was intricately carved, the stone smooth and cool, etched with sacred symbols and ancient designs that seemed to tell stories of gods and warriors long forgotten. There were no windows, only wide archways leading into shadowy interiors, where the faint glow of oil lamps flickered against the walls.