When Rina touches an ancient mirror, she's pulled back in time to the world of Rozafa Castle, where legends come to life.
In a land where magic is real and the mythical Zana protect the balance of nature, Rina learns she is the Keeper of the Mirror...
My name is Kaltrina. But please, call me Rina. Kaltrina sounds like it belongs to someone destined for something great, as if the name itself carries a weight I'm not ready to bear. And maybe that was the point once. But the bigger the name, the heavier the expectations. So I keep it simple. Rina. Just Rina.
My life? Nothing special. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. I'm the youngest in a family that balances somewhere between dreams and reality. My mother, a woman with Albanian roots and an American smile, calls us the Holloways, as if that name magically binds us together. My father, British to his core, loves tradition, stability, and all things orderly. Together, they form a family firmly grounded in the here and now.
Me? I feel different. I don't feel like a Holloway. Not really. That name rolls too easily off the tongue, as if it's meant for business cards rather than to echo through old legends. My grandfather, Gjon, understood that. He called me Kaltrina Kelmendi. It sounded heavy, but not in a bad way. More like a key to something yet to be unlocked.
He always said the Kelmendis were a name born of the mountains. A name you only earn if you understand what it protects. He spoke of the Zana, beings who guard invisible worlds, and of mirrors that reflect more than just your face. As a child, I believed him without question. As a teenager, I laughed it off. But now, as those stories refuse to let go of me, I wonder if he always knew what I'm only beginning to feel.
There's something inside me, a spark that's never completely gone out. A voice I can't hear but can somehow feel. It presses against me, rolls through my chest like a wave, as if warning me that my time is near. Sometimes it feels like I'm stuck, like the world is too small and the answers are just out of reach.
My brother Erion says I dream too much, that I search for meaning in shadows where there's none to be found. "Keep your feet on the ground, Rina," he always says, as if the ground is steady enough to hold me. But what if that ground isn't really mine? What if my destiny lies somewhere else?
And now, here in Albania, I feel it more strongly than ever. It's as if the land itself breathes, as if the mountains sing with the voices of my grandfather and his stories. This isn't just a trip. It isn't a vacation. It's a call I can no longer ignore.
My name is Rina. Kaltrina Kelmendi. And maybe I'm not just anyone. Maybe my story begins here. And maybe, just maybe, it's been waiting for me all along.
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