Jacob Pendle didn't mean to activate the watch.
He didn't mean to fall through time.
And he definitely didn't mean to fall in love.
But time doesn't care about intentions.
Now he's racing through centuries he doesn't understand, chasing clues left b...
"Jacob! Go into the attic and grab the Christmas ornaments please."
His mom's voice floated up the stairs, along with the smell of cinnamon candles and something suspiciously burnt in the oven. Jacob Pendle sighed and rolled out of bed.
"Yes ma'am...!" his voiced echoed.
He groaned loud enough for all of Connecticut to hear. Outside, the wind rattled the windows, and the dry leaves rolled across the grass like tumbleweeds. It was the kind of cold that made your nose run and your hands useless. He stumbled down the hall, muttering the whole way.
"Who even decorates this early? Thanksgiving was literally yesterday. I don't even think the turkey has digested yet."
He yanked the attic cord and dramatically sighed, and the ladder creaked as if it was miserable too. Every step he took, the ladder would groan under his weight. The attic was dark, stuffy, and just humid enough to feel like a punishment.
"Kill me now," he muttered under his breath.
He pulled the string to cut on the lightbulb, which flickered a dim, yellow glow and revealed even more dust in the air. Cardboard boxes were scattered about with thick sheets of dust coating the tops. Some were labeled "Halloween", "Easter", "Independence Day", and even one that said "Random Junk".
Jacob started moving things around, peeking behind random shelves as he went. He even found an old exercise bike that probably hadn't seen the light of day since the Obama administration.
That's when he saw something.
Shoved into the far corner, half-buried under a moth-eaten quilt and a fake Christmas tree, sat a trunk. Not cardboard. Not plastic. Real wood, dark with age, and held shut by two iron latches that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades. He stepped closer, brushing off the dust on the trunk with his sleeve. The symbol was clearer now—an hourglass with wings, carved into the wood like a family crest. It looked like something out of a video game. Or a cult. He crouched beside it, inspecting the latches. They were rusted but intact, and the trunk itself had that ancient, mysterious vibe you only get from cursed objects in fantasy movies. He began to reach for it, but then he hesitated.
"This is how horror movies begin," he said to himself.
He saw the warm light coming out of the attic opening.
The perfect escape route. I could pretend I saw nothing. Grab a wreath and call it a day.
But something was different about that trunk. His fingers hovered over the latches as he made a decision.
Worst case? It's a box of old photos of Mom and Dad, and she yells at me for not bringing down the ornaments. Best case? Treasure map.
He smirked.
Or... a portal to Narnia.
He popped the first latch. Then the second. The trunk creaked open... revealing...
A pocket watch. Jacob blinked.
"That's it?"
It was sitting on top of a old velvet cloth, and it looked older than dirt. The time was stuck at 4:17. Jacob was disappointed when he realized that the clock arms didn't even move. He flipped it over and set it in the palm of his hand, reading "T. Pendle, 1680". Underneath there was a message in Latin.
"Qu- sanwe- WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN?"
Frustrated, he threw it back in the box and stood up, walking off to go find the ornaments somewhere in this creaky old place. But out of the corner of his eye, a mysterious blue glow was coming out of the seams of the trunk. He began slowly walking back to it, his heart beating faster with every step. The pocket watch was still lying exactly where he left it—but now, tiny veins of light were flickering from the engraved seams. He crouched down, observing the pulsing blue light cautiously like it could kill him at any moment. Concerned, he slowly picked up the pocket watch. Like the teenager he was, he fiddled with it until his thumb pressed the crown.
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Just a single glowing point, hovering a few feet off the floor... then glowed brighter... and brighter—
And then it spread.
Like a piece of paper catching fire in the very center. A blue flame surrounded the edge of the growing portal. The glow moved outward, silently curling the edges of the world itself, warping the attic around it. Boxes trembled. The lightbulb above flickered wildly. Jacob's eyes widened, and his heart was now pounding out of his chest.
"What the heck..."
The portal ripped open, and a large gust of wind nearly knocked him over. Before he could catch his breath, he was pulled in by a bright light.
And just like that, the attic vanished around him.
