Keepers of Time and Order: The Timekeeper's Legacy Series, #1

By Klara Peranić

Meet David, a fourteen-year-old grappling with the sudden loss of his mother. When a long-lost father reemerges from the shadows, David's life takes an astonishing turn. A majestic castle, an enigmatic butler, and a captivating redhead named Sarah lead him to an extraordinary discovery: a portal to the past.

Drawn by an eerie whisper of destiny, David steps through the time portal and finds himself in the ancient city of Pompeii. A web of intrigue unfolds as he learns the truth about his mother and the power of his family legacy.

Join David as he navigates a labyrinth of secrets, encounters unexpected allies, and confronts dark forces that threaten to alter history. An exhilarating tale of courage, love, and the power of family, "Keepers of Time and Order" is a teen time-travel adventure that will captivate and leave you yearning for more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Klara Peranić
• Release date: Feb 2, 2024
• ISBN: 9789535086505

Book preview

Chapter One

The Lost Father

I didn't sleep too well. Some stupid feeling kicked me out of my shoes yesterday before I went to bed. It's almost the end of summer, and more dull days of sitting in the back row and pelting professors with slobbery pieces of paper are on the horizon. I know it seems like school will be fun, but I prefer girls in bikinis, not my hundred-year-old teachers. Bye-bye beach, welcome books (that I am not going to read)! I turned my head toward the window and saw a downpour. Super. Great. No beach. Forget about peaches, David. 

I barely got out of bed, wearing my embarrassing PJs, I must add, and dragged myself to a small, wooden, round table in our outdated kitchen. It was just three steps from my room, so that wasn't a big achievement. There was THE message, like every other morning: Eat! Love you, Donna!

Donna is my mom; I call her by her name because everyone calls their mom Mom, so how does a certain mother know that she's special? Right? I didn't touch my phone because I knew Donna was spying on me somehow. She knew I was spending mornings staring at the screen, and that's precisely why she left this little paper. 

I was just about to eat this predictable breakfast, avocado toast, when the doorbell rang.¹ Yeah, now is the right time to tell you that I am wearing Pokemon pajamas two sizes too small, in which I reaaally don't want to open the door. Oh, Donna forgot her papers again. A paper pile was on the old, brownish, dilapidated couch—tiny living space, single mom and all the clichés.

We have a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in one, so it always looks messy, even though it's all pretty organized. I tripped on my shoes that I left near the door yesterday and almost fell, but I somehow managed to keep my balance. First victory of the day! I coughed to clear my throat; my breath smelled a little, but what could I do? I couldn't brush my teeth right then. I touched the doorknob, my discomfort showing on my face. I was looking like a wet rag eaten and digested by a mouse... and you could smell me… it was terrible.

When I opened the door, to my surprise, a vast woman was in front of me, like, really, really, big. She had catlike brown eyes with a dark reflection, and I swear she smelled like a rotting corpse! Her skin was white and shiny. Is she a vampire? I wondered.²

Donna forgot the papers. Did she send you to get them? I asked and blocked the door. I didn't trust this lady. She was two heads taller than me³, and she could blow me away like the wolf blowing away houses in that Three Little Pigs fairy tale.

OK, sweetheart, I am sorry, but I am bringing some unpleasant news. Maybe you'd like to sit down, she said coldly, with her arms crossed over her body.

I am good, thanks. I looked at her with a dose of arrogance. She was a liar. I have a nose for lies sharper than a bloodhound on a bacon trail. I was sure she wanted to steal something. Ha, she was a liar and a thief! You know she's checking if a kid is home alone and then would grab the opportunity to tie me to a chair and close my mouth with that disgusting tape until her buddies take everything we got. Too bad cat lady, we have no money.

Well, you're not giving me a choice but to speak of the matter that brings me here. Your mother died.

Do you know that moment when the organs in your body collapse? They feel heavy, like stones. Hard but falling into pieces, and then each of those pieces sharply breaks your bones, flesh, and skin. At that moment, you feel that life is just a puzzle, and now that one part is gone, this puzzle will never be whole again.⁴

When you become an orphan, you have to grow up instantly. I think that people have different approaches to loss. I was thinking of some random, stupid thoughts. Like, what am I gonna eat for breakfast now? I think it helped. This stone-cold woman further told me that she was from social services and was here on my father's instructions—whom, BTW, I had no idea existed. And now imagine the following: your mom died, and she lied that your dad was dead all your life. Puff—to split your brain. So, there was just one possibility; I had to pack my stuff and go to my father's. Do I want to go? Was he abusive towards Donna, or even me, so she had to leave and never speak of it again? ⁵ What is the story behind this?... My brain goes nuts when I don't know the answers. But at least it kept me busy from a total collapse that I didn't want to happen at this moment.

The door was heavier than ever as I closed it and looked at the little apartment that I might never see again. Although, realistically, it probably belonged to me. I locked the door, put a heavy suitcase on my shoulders, because I couldn't drag it down the stairs, and headed down. I assumed that this person from the social service should be with me, but as soon as she told me the news, she pretty much left. There were windows in the hallway of each floor. I peeked through the window at the lower bottom and saw a long black limousine in front of the entrance.

I came from money and was living in this tiny flat? Suspicious. But again, do I have a choice? No, not really. I can go or be homeless.

The woman from social services was standing in front of the limousine. She was constantly checking her watch. I'm sorry that my mother's death spoils your plans, you witch. I was furious! The fat woman opened the limo door and sat me down.

Wait here, she said in a deep male voice. Yes, she also had a male voice and a little mustache, if I’m honest. I'm not exaggerating because of my anger. You should have seen that. I would laugh if my mom wasn't dead.

Our biggest enemy in life is unfilled time. In moments when we have nothing to do, we think. Fortunately, even though my life is now at its downfall, my thoughts can be entertaining.

When I was five years old, I found Donna's dildo. Yes, it's disgusting when you find your mom's toy, but it's great that, because you're so young, you have no idea what it is. I automatically put it in my mouth to see if I would throw up. Donna was horrified when she burst into the room. She pulled the pink dildo out of my mouth, yelling fuuuh, fuuuh. She said I shouldn't touch it because there are a lot of dead flies inside it—it's a tool for killing flies during the summer. Guests came two days later. A fly was flying around the table, and what could I do? I ran to get the dildo and started chasing it. If Donna rates this weapon that much, it must be good.

It had been a while till an older man in a gray suit came and opened the door. What a clown, a red tie and a blue vest!⁶ His face was skinny, you could almost see every bone, and his eyes were as gray as a rock. This guy’s hair was nicely combed, but I bet he never washed it.

Sir, don't be afraid. I am Christian, and I will take you to your father.

Christian, if someone told you, hi, I am an alien, and I will take you to Mars, would you be completely calm? What kind of people are these? In fact, at that moment, I didn't even care who he was, where he was taking me, or what would happen to me. It just didn't seem real to me. It felt like someone had put me in someone else's life or even a video game—a terrible one. Christian closed the door and started the engine.

***

We traveled for hours in complete silence. I couldn't sleep even though fatigue was killing me. After five hundred years (not real-time, this is metaphorical), the car turned into the woods. A narrow gravel road leading to a large gate engraved with the letter M. Name or surname of my alleged father? I wondered. The gate opened, and the car entered the yard. It wasn't precisely a courtyard because there was still a long path leading to the castle. Yes, the castle! I was pretty sure this was not real because my dad wouldn't have a castle, right? Is this a hidden camera thing? No, I don't think so. They wouldn't kill someone's mom because of a TV show. Or would they?

We pulled over. 

Christian popped out and opened the door of the fancy limo for me. I was suppressing my pain even more effortlessly than before as if my brain had upgraded to 'Pain-Ninja Mode.' The brain worked in mysterious ways, and I got to stick with its ever-optimistic side. It was either that or I would end up homeless and dead. That was how I saw it.

The tall, gray stone building in front of me helped me to be unrealistically calm. It looked like it was reaching for the sky like it wanted to touch the clouds. And the weather outside matched perfectly with its color. The castle had stairs on both sides and there were these gigantic doors right in the middle. It was wide, you know, but not crazy tall. I mean, it had these cool towers that made it a bit taller, but it didn't look like one of those ancient castles from the Middle Ages. It must be newer, for sure. The gray stones on the outside still looked all fresh, not weathered at all. And, those roofs on the towers pretty much had the same shape forever, maybe except for the tiles. They were all black, and I'm pretty sure they didn't have black tiles back in those medieval times.

Your father sends his apologies. He is still at work, Christian explained. He gestured for me to step out of the car, his eyes widening like saucers, giving me a little fright. Don't be afraid, come on! I'll give you a tour of the house or take you to your room—whichever you prefer.

Don't be afraid, usually means you will tremble with fear, but do I have a choice (again)?

I got out of the car, embarrassed about how I looked and happy that I would not meet my father this way. The stairs that led to the castle doors were narrow and at least a hundred years old. Everything was made of stone except them. We entered through this broad, black wooden door with the letter M (again). The anteroom was large and circular, but nothing caught my attention except the floor.⁷ There was something similar to the tiles on this floor, but it didn't look like tiles. It was arranged in the shape of a circle with smaller circles inside. Each loop was a different color, either grey or light black. Like a clock mechanism. Yes! Just like a clock mechanism!

I'll take you to your room. Christian stopped my thoughts. I thought that I could choose the tour, but OK.

We approached the long steps descending in a semicircle as if heading towards the abyss. We climbed to the third floor and came down a narrow corridor. I think this could be the old part of the castle. It looked more neglected than the rest and was all made of stone.

Christian, armed with a bundle of keys that could rival a janitor's collection, fumbled around with them like he was playing a game of real-life Tetris. After a few comical attempts, he finally managed to unlock the door with his bony fingers. And let me tell you, what I saw inside totally defied my expectations. I was half-expecting to find a room straight out of a medieval fantasy, complete with straw bedding and candlelit sconces. But instead, it was like stepping into the pages of an interior design magazine. I could practically hear my mom's voice gushing about how stylish it was. Though I have to admit, it wasn't exactly what I had in mind for a fourteen-year-old guy like me. It felt more like a room for serious adults or, dare I say it, a little on the girly side.

Right there against the wall stood this massive bed with a red canopy on top. You know, the kind that makes you feel like you're some sort of royalty. And what the heck was it called again? Oh, right, a baldachin.

The room also featured leather armchairs in a hue that looked like, well, the color of mud after a super intense rainstorm. I mean, who chooses that color for furniture?

I was so tired, and I suddenly realized that I was alone. Donna was gone. I plopped down on this massive bed with red silk sheets. Christian said I had a bell just above my head if I wanted anything. At first, he tried to force me to eat some food, but listen, who would think of food on a day like this? Let's call Christian Butler because Butler is a cool nickname, and Christian is just a basic name, like Anna or John. Well, Butler left the room, and I must admit, the tears came like a hurricane. I couldn't control myself. I cried and cried. It felt like an eternity. The sunlight that had peeked through the clouds during the day had completely disappeared, and darkness started creeping into the room. I turned on a small lamp on the table under the window. I know it was not the manliest thing to do, but hey, I was scared, okay? Scared of what? I had no clue. It was just this weird feeling of unease that I couldn't shake off. And let me tell you, putting the lamp under the window was a bad idea. The shadows it cast on the walls played tricks on my tired mind. Most of the time, the big shadows seemed like a spider or something. It's funny, though. Out of all the things that scared me,