Chapter 1: The Last Letter

Charles Darwin never thought it would come to this.

Sitting in the dim light of his cluttered study, his fountain pen moved swiftly across the paper, the ink dark and sharp against the cream-colored pages. The words poured out as if guided by some unseen force, each stroke carrying the weight of a world unraveling at the seams.

He paused, taking a long breath, trying to steady his trembling hand. He hadn’t meant for things to get this far—he hadn’t meant to become the reluctant bearer of this truth. But the evidence was too undeniable now. The Historical Divide had expanded, far beyond the reaches of any naturalist’s understanding, and forces were stirring in the shadows that even his extensive knowledge could not explain.

"If you are reading this," the letter began, "then I am probably dead… darker forces are at work, and the Queen has been compromised."

Darwin’s eyes flickered over the words. He didn’t know if Benjamin Franklin, his dear friend and confidant, would even receive this letter—if Franklin was still alive, or if the strange rumors he’d heard were true, that the old codger had made himself immortal through some bizarre accident of science or magic. Last he’d heard, Franklin had gone into hiding after disappearing from history’s timeline, some years ago. He hoped the letter would find him, wherever—or whenever—he might be.

The scratching of the pen was all that filled the silence of the room as Darwin continued, the words spilling out faster than he could think.

“I’ve discovered a lot from my travels… and I am telling you, the world is changing in ways I can’t begin to comprehend. The Historical Divide has been expanding nonstop, and old monsters that should have long been extinct are resurfacing to the enlightened world.”

He leaned back in his chair, his mind racing, his thoughts a jumbled mess. His discoveries, his research, his theories—they had all led to this point. He had uncovered evidence of creatures that shouldn’t exist, relics of a forgotten past, and strange anomalies that defied all logic. It was more than just the natural world that was shifting. Something darker, more ancient, was stirring beneath the surface, and the consequences were dire.

Darwin’s fingers hovered over the paper, his mind drifting back to the moment everything had changed. The moment he had been approached by a shadowy figure in a London alley, with a proposal that would alter the course of history itself.

The figure had spoken of the Queen, of her corruption, of her ties to forces beyond human understanding, forces that threatened the very fabric of reality. Darwin had scoffed at first, dismissing it as another of the countless conspiracies that swirled through the streets of London. But as he dug deeper, as he followed the trail of evidence, the truth became clear—there was something far more dangerous at play.

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He had been given an ultimatum: act or watch everything he had worked for, everything he had ever known, crumble under the weight of forces too powerful to stop.

So, he had made a decision. A dangerous one. He would fight back.

“Ben,” he wrote, the words more a plea than a statement. “I need your help. If you can, gather a group of people—strange people, like me—and come to London. We are running out of time.”

The candle flickered, casting long shadows across the walls as Darwin pressed the tip of the pen harder against the paper. He had no illusions about what lay ahead. This was no longer a matter of simple science or natural history. This was war—against creatures from forgotten myths, against men and women who would see the world burn to fuel their own dark ambitions.

The world was changing, and for the first time in his life, Darwin wasn’t sure whether he could keep up.

“Pierrot, come…”

Charles Darwin's voice was low and urgent as he stood by the open window, his eyes scanning the dark sky. He had prepared everything—his letter, his words, the plea for help—and now, there was only one final step. It had to be done quickly, before any more time slipped away. Before whatever malevolent force was encroaching upon the world gained any more ground.

A soft fluttering of wings broke the stillness, and a pigeon as white as snow tumbled toward him with an almost comical clumsiness. The bird collided with the windowsill, stumbling mid-flight before it righted itself. Darwin couldn’t help but smile at the sight—a momentary relief from the pressing tension of the hour.

He crouched down, his movements swift and deliberate. Rolling the letter carefully, he tucked it into the open beak of the pigeon. The bird blinked up at him, as if recognizing its duty, and Darwin spoke the final words, his voice firm.

“Go now, Pierrot!”

With a flurry of wings, the pigeon took off, but not in the graceful manner one would expect. Instead, it swerved left and right in the air like a drunken fool, its flight erratic and unsteady. Darwin watched as it flapped desperately, barely managing to stay afloat.

And then, in a flash of off-white feathers, Pierrot vanished, carried away by a supernatural power that defied all logic. The bird seemed to dissolve into the night air, as though it had never been there at all, leaving only the faintest trace of a spectral glow in its wake.

Charles stood there for a moment, his heart racing, his thoughts tangled in the complexities of the strange world he had found himself in. The bird was not just a messenger—it was the conduit for something far greater. Something that would take his desperate plea across the impossible boundaries of time and space.

And yet, even as he had entrusted his most important message to that seemingly simple creature, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the worst was still to come. Whatever forces were at work now were far beyond anything he could explain, and the terrifying truth gnawed at him: he might not live to see the outcome of his request.

He turned back into the room, the cool night air still lingering on his skin. The fire in the hearth had long since burned down to embers, casting the room in a ghostly, flickering light. The letter was now out of his hands. There was nothing more he could do.

Except wait.

But Charles Darwin knew better than most that time was a luxury he no longer had.