(VIII)—
Entry #42 Sequence XIII Aberration
The clocks have lost their power to measure time.
Yet I cannot stop straining my ears for that phantom ticking.
I know indulging in such delusion will drive me mad, mad with the belief that I was meant to escape.
And so, there are hours I cannot account for, hours lost when I lower my guard and the sound crawls back.
Somewhere within these walls, a pendulum still sways, though I have dismantled every clock in the manor, twice over, and cast their pieces into the study's deepest cupboards.
Entry #43
I once believed I could hold the role, that I might remain a Watchmaker, and nothing beyond.
Yet even I must concede: a watch refusing to move forward is no different from one already broken.
Entry #44
Again, I ask myself: Do I linger here merely to mend what is broken?
Then, I remember it is the lie I spin for the others.
They cannot bear my true answer, and perhaps, inwardly, neither can I.
Entry #45
Pherris' voice haunts my thoughts more often of late.
I repeatedly recite that it was a necessary test. We are all tests.
Yet if I were honest, I would confess: I do not hear him in memory alone…
More and more, it is as though he, too, remains just within this threshold with me.
Entry #46
The Architects of the other universes will not pardon anomalies.
I have always known this. These Gods will not pardon me.
I was never meant to stand here, where one world bleeds insidiously into another.
It was never a matter of choice that I remain poised between the past and the present.
Each time the Creator insisted this was my only path to survival, I understood more clearly that true change eludes him.
No one can truly step beyond the bounds of their own history. We cannot return to what was; all we may do is steel ourselves to endure what lies ahead.
Entry #47
I linger because I cannot cross.
To cross is to never return.
To cross is to shed what I am.
Yet what am I now, if not already defiled?
Entry #48
Do not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not crossDo not cross Do not cross Do not cross
Entry #49
The eyes have begun opening again. One after another, they blink awake in the manor's walls, peering through the torn fabric of this place. Their gaze presses in on me like the slow weight of a flooding room.
Nine eyes. Nine eyes. They observe me as I observe.
Entry #50
The west corridor's clock lags two seconds behind sequence alignment once more.
I have disassembled it thrice, polished the gears, and realigned the anchor, yet the delay persists.
I suspect the fault lies in the corridor itself.
This wing remains the most unstable.
Once, I discovered a door where none existed the day prior.
It opened only to a crumbling chamber with peculiar roots growing along the walls.
I bolted it shut, but within the next reoccurrences, a mixture of red petals and water had begun to flow out from beneath.
Am I going mad?
Entry #51
Pherris' voice returned tonight, carried within the ticking of these clocks.
"Do you intend to let yourself collapse, brother?"
I answered aloud.
"Not yet."
Whether he heard me, I cannot say. Whether I wanted him to, less so.
Entry #52
Today, I attempted once again to recalibrate Hoku's pocket watch.
The mainspring resisted winding, and the escapement's ticking grew erratic.
There is a faint resonance when I hold it near, akin to the hum within the manor's waiting door.
I fear the timepiece itself is quickening, becoming sentient, as all things in this place eventually do.
If I fail, the stability amongst the sequences will be dismantled.
And yet part of me wonders why I shouldn't allow it to break entirely.
Entry #53
The Nine Eyes are no longer content with mere observation. This morning, I saw them reflected in the glass face of the grandfather clock—slitted pupils rimmed with brass, blinking one after the other.
When I turned, the room was still. The clock had stopped.
I restarted it with trembling hands.
Entry #54
Tonight, I heard footsteps upon the upper landing that were far too heavy to be my own.
I went to investigate and discovered that the hall remained unchanged save for a single impression in the dust of a bare human foot.
Entry #55
The South Wing mirror cracked again today.
This marks the seventh occurrence since the last sequence.
Each fracture spread in branching veins, uncannily reminiscent of the Nine-Eyed Sigil carved into the stone gates dividing the train route from the Nest.
I was careful not to stare too long. The previous time, I thought I glimpsed my own hand within the glass, five fingers, and a ring I do not recall ever wearing.
I refused to record it in case the Creator was unaware.
Entry #56
At precisely 03:14, Hoku's pocket watch chimed despite my having removed its bell weeks ago.
While inspecting the perimeter, I found a sealed letter pinned to the library door by a gold needle. The handwriting was eerily similar to that of the Abundant Creator.
The envelope contained only three words:
"Do not allow Hoku into the field of tulips."
As I burned it, the ashes reeked slightly of seawater.
Entry #57
In the western attic today, I uncovered a locked trunk that had never existed before.
Inside were scraps of celestial charts that were drawn in dried blood, a broken violin bow, and a child's toy.
Some sort of doll with Auburn hair and a missing arm.
When I studied the charts, I found that each one bore my brother's signature.
I slammed the lid shut, and when I returned to look again, the trunk was gone.
Entry #58
The manor's rooms have begun to speak clearly.
The Nine Eyes now peer from every surface, even the ink in this very ledger writhes with their forms.
I have forgotten even the face that stares back at me, so why bother preserving what little remains of me?
Tonight, I will cross.
The cost has been tallied, and I have yielded to the knowledge that the freedom which awaits me is utterly worthless.
. . .
「Scribbled in an old birthday card that was stowed in an envelope at the end of the Watchmaker's ledger」
Pherris, do not hold me to the man I have become, but to the one I once was.
Even if all ends ultimately restrain our chances of returning.
Even if you've believed my words.
We've both gone mad.