The light receded like a tide pulling back from the shore, leaving me gasping, disoriented. The world snapped into focus around us, but nothing felt real. We were no longer in the cobblestone streets of old Florence, nor anywhere I recognized from the present. Shadows flickered along jagged walls, and the air was thick, almost viscous, like it held secrets we were too fragile to hear.

Dante’s hands stayed on my shoulders, steadying me, grounding me. His chest heaved, his eyes scanning every corner, every shadow, as if danger itself had taken form.

“Isabella,” he whispered, his voice low and intense. “Stay close. I don’t know where this is, but...