Chapter 1
Sir Adrian was leading the army at the very edge of the kingdom, where the land met uncertainty and bloodshed was no stranger. The rain had been falling relentlessly, soaking the ground until it turned into thick mud beneath the soldiers’ boots. The clash of steel echoed through the storm, thunder answering every cry of war.
Adrian raised his sword, its weight familiar in his hand. At that exact moment, lightning tore through the sky.
A blinding beam of light descended with a deafening crack, swallowing him whole.
Then—darkness.
Morning arrived quietly.
The rain had stopped, but its traces remained. Broken petals lay scattered across the garden, their colors dulled by the storm. Harper stepped into the backyard with a small sigh, holding a watering can she barely needed. She knelt beside her flowers, brushing damp soil from the leaves as if comforting them.
“Good morning, my brave survivors,” she murmured softly. “That storm was cruel to you.”
She stood up and continued walking.
“Hi, beautiful cat,” she said automatically, her eyes still on the roses. “Hi, Mr. Armor—”
She froze mid-step.
Her heart skipped.
“…Mr. Armor?”
Harper turned around so fast she nearly lost her balance. Her eyes landed on a tall figure lying motionless on the grass—encased in metal, rain-stained armor catching the morning light.
She screamed.
Silence followed, thick and terrifying.
Breathing hard, Harper slowly approached the man. Her mind screamed logic at her—this is impossible—but her feet moved anyway. She crouched down and hesitantly poked him with her finger.
Nothing.
She swallowed and tried again, this time shaking his shoulder.
Still nothing.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, almost begging, “Please… don’t be dead. I really don’t want to call the police with a dead body in my garden.”
Suddenly, the man gasped and jolted upright.
They screamed at the same time.
“For God’s sake! Don’t scream!” Harper snapped, clutching her chest.
The man squinted, his hand instinctively reaching for a sword that was no longer in his grip. His breathing was heavy, his expression sharp with suspicion.
“What is this?!” he demanded. “Where am I? Where are the enemies?”
Harper stared at him like he had lost his mind. “Enemies? Well… this doesn’t really look like a battlefield, does it?”
He fell silent.
Slowly, his eyes moved around him—past the wooden fence, the neighboring houses, the distant sound of cars. Confusion flickered across his face, replaced by awe. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing made sense.
Finally, his gaze settled on her.
His voice turned grave. “Are you… a wizard?”
She blinked. Then scoffed. “Absolutely not. What kind of wizard can’t even brew her own coffee properly?”
He frowned deeply. “Then explain this! Your clothes are strange. This place is strange. If this is not magic, what is it?”
“What’s strange,” Harper shot back, placing her hands on her hips, “is that you were lying unconscious in my garden wearing armor like you walked straight out of Game of Thrones.”
Suspicion hardened his features. “Who are you? And where is this place?”
“This is my garden,” she replied sharply. “And who are you exactly, and why were you lying in it?”
He glanced down at himself, at the unfamiliar surroundings, as if only now truly seeing them. His voice softened, heavy with disbelief.
“I am Sir Adrian Whitford. Royal Guard to His Majesty. The last thing I remember… lightning struck as I swung my sword.”
Harper narrowed her eyes. “Right. And let me guess—next you’ll tell me there’s a dragon somewhere nearby. Are you obsessed with TV shows, or did you hit your head while cosplaying?”
“I am not a charlatan!” he roared suddenly, rising to his feet with dignity intact despite the situation.
“Well then,” she said dryly, “Mr. Sir Adrian, welcome to the modern world. Time travel by lightning isn’t exactly common here.”
He looked around again, bewildered. “What kind of world is this? Why does everyone dress so… oddly?”
She gestured at him. “You’re the one in armor, not us.”
He said nothing. His silence was heavier than his words, filled with questions he couldn’t yet form.
Harper exhaled and crossed her arms. “Look, whatever you are, you can’t stay here. You need to go.”
“I must return to the castle,” he insisted. “But there is no trace of it.”
“The castle?” Her patience snapped. “That’s it. This is too much. You need a doctor.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Actually—no. I’ll call the police.”
His brow furrowed. “What does this ‘police’ do? Is he a wizard?”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Are you serious? They keep order. Catch criminals. Haven’t you seen a single movie?”
“Movie?” he repeated cautiously. “Is that some kind of magic show?”
Harper took a deep breath, counting silently to three. “Whatever happens, you will not be here when I come back this evening. Understand?”
“Where am I supposed to go?” he protested. “Nothing here makes sense!”
She sighed, already exhausted. “Take care of yourself.”
And with that, she turned and walked back into her house—leaving behind a royal guard from another time, standing alone in her garden.
