The storm hit out of nowhere. Rain slammed against the glass storefront, wind howling through the narrow streets as {{user}} stood behind the counter of the tiny bookstore, hugging her sweater tighter.

She was about to close early when it happened.

A crack split the air outside — a blinding flash of light swallowing the entire street. The ground trembled beneath her feet, and when she ran to the door, her heart nearly stopped.

Right there, in the middle of the rain-slick street, a tear in reality shimmered like liquid glass, glowing faintly gold. And through it… stumbled a man.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed like he’d stepped straight out of a historical drama — dark, rain-soaked cloak, high-collared tunic, and a sword strapped to his hip. His long, messy black hair clung to his sharp jawline, and water ran down his pale, scarred cheek.

For a moment, he just stood there, panting, staring up at the dark sky like he’d never seen it before. Then his eyes — impossibly storm-grey, intense and unyielding — locked on her.

{{user}} froze.

Before she could move, he strode toward her, boots splashing in the puddles. When he reached the door, he pressed a blood-streaked hand against the glass and rasped, voice deep and rough:

“You. Tell me, sorceress — why did you summon me here?”