Elian had always read about ancient civilizations.
He could recite timelines, name rulers, describe wars and inventions. But no amount of studying had prepared him for the reality of stepping into history itself.
The world around him shimmered like water disturbed by a thrown stone.
The cafe dissolved in layers of light and dust, replaced by a dry wind and a blazing sun overhead. When the haze cleared, Elian found himself standing barefoot on warm, uneven stone.
His lungs filled with dry air, spiced with smoke, sweat, and earth. Before him stretched a landscape that looked like something pulled straight from the earliest chapters of human history.
Mudbrick houses formed a sprawling city beside a broad, slow-moving river. In the distance rose a ziggurat, its layered terraces gleaming in the sunlight.
People moved with purpose farmers tending canals, merchants shouting in an unfamiliar tongue, children chasing goats along dusty alleys.
"Welcome to Uruk," Selene said beside him. She wore a loose, linen robe that blended with the attire of the locals. Her modern coat and boots were gone, replaced with sandals and ancient simplicity.
Elian looked down. His jeans and hoodie were gone too. In their place, he wore a tunic that reached just below the knee, rough and itchy against his skin. It felt real. Unmistakably real.
"This is really happening," he said, his voice small.
"Yes," Selene replied. "This is the cradle of civilization Ancient Sumer. Roughly 3000 BCE."
They walked slowly down a packed-earth road, Elian turning his head at every sound, every movement. It was overwhelming. He felt like an intruder in a world untouched by the modern noise he'd known all his life.
A man passed by, leading a donkey laden with clay pots. A woman knelt beside a small fire, baking flatbread on a curved stone.
Children giggled from behind woven fences. The city breathed around him alive in a way no textbook could capture.
"Isn't this dangerous?" Elian asked. "Won't we change something? Affect the timeline?"
"Not yet," Selene replied. "Right now, we're observers. Listeners. The rules are simple Do not interfere unless you're told otherwise."
They entered a marketplace. The air smelled of dried fish, figs, fermented barley. Men haggled over copper tools and jars of oil.
Elian marveled at the variety of goods and the sense of organized chaos. His history professors had always mentioned Sumerian trade networks but seeing it like this made it feel personal, tangible.
Selene stopped at a quiet corner of the market and turned to him.
"You're here to understand, Elian not just memorize. Every civilization, every empire has something to teach."
Elian nodded, watching as a young scribe dipped a reed into black ink and began marking lines on a clay tablet. Cuneiform.
"The first written language," Elian said aloud.
"Yes. And the beginning of memory itself."
As they walked, Selene guided him to the edge of the river. Boats drifted lazily past, their sails catching the desert wind. A fisherman hummed a song, pulling in a net woven by hand.
"This place," Elian murmured. "It's beautiful. Simple. Honest."
"And yet it too will fade," Selene said softly. "Uruk will fall. Floods, invasions, and time will bury it. But for now, it lives."
Elian turned to her. "How do you know all this?"
Selene didn't answer immediately. She stared out over the water, her expression distant.
"Let's just say I've been walking for a long time."
That night, they stayed in a small guest dwelling near the temple district. The clay walls were cool and thick. A small oil lamp flickered between them, casting long shadows on the walls.
Elian couldn't sleep. His thoughts were a storm of awe and disbelief. He listened to the distant drums from the temple, the low hum of life in a city that shouldn't exist anymore.
The stars above were clearer than he'd ever seen.
"Selene," he whispered.
"Hmm?"
"Why me? Why bring me here?"
She was silent for a long moment.
"Because you care," she said finally. "Most people look at the past like a museum piece dusty, irrelevant. But you see it for what it truly is. A mirror. A map."
Elian lay back on the straw mat, staring at the ceiling.
He didn't understand everything yet. But something inside him had changed.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't just reading about history.
He was part of it.