The hum rose until it filled her teeth, her chest, the hollow of her skull.
It wasn't just sound — it was a pressure, as though the air itself had thickened, pushing against her in all directions. The crowd around her didn't seem to notice; they bustled past, umbrellas bobbing, voices carrying in clipped tones.
The journal was almost hot now.
She clutched it to her chest and stepped backward into the shadow of a lamppost.
Then the humming snapped — not fading, but stopping so suddenly it made her stumble. In its place came a sharp metallic click, like a gear locking into place.
"Elara Quinn?"
The voice was right behind her.
She spun, heart lurching — and found herself staring at a man in a waistcoat and high-collared shirt, his sleeves rolled to the elbow. He wasn't tall, but he carried himself as though the space bent around him. His hair was dark, streaked at the temples with silver, and his eyes… his eyes were the strange part.
They were not one color.
Not even two. They seemed to shift, like the surface of a clock's glass catching different light.
She stepped back. "Who—"
"No time." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a chain — a silver fob watch, clicking faintly in his palm. "You're being followed."
"I… what? Who are you?"
"I'll explain later."
"No," she said sharply, though her voice wavered. "You don't just—"
The man glanced over her shoulder. "They've already found you."
She didn't turn. She didn't have to. The street behind her had gone strangely quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like a shadow passing over the sun. The people who had been walking there moments ago were… gone. Not scattered, not hiding — just gone, as if they had never existed.
The man grabbed her wrist. "We need to move."
She yanked back instinctively. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
He sighed — not annoyed, but weary, as though he'd lived this moment a hundred times before.
"Elara, if you stay here, you will vanish just like they did."
And that was when she made the mistake of looking back.
The street was empty. Not only empty — wrong. The bricks of the buildings seemed… thinner, faded, like someone had washed the color out of them. The sky above had no texture, no clouds, just a pale blankness creeping closer.
Something was erasing the street.
The man's grip tightened. "Now."
This time, she didn't resist.
They ran.
The cobblestones were slick under her sneakers; her shoulder brushed a passing lamppost that flickered, its light briefly showing a gap in the air — not darkness, but absence, as if someone had cut a square out of reality.
They wove through twisting side streets, past rows of narrow houses with lace curtains and coal soot blackening the sills. The man glanced behind them often, each time quickening his pace.
Finally, they ducked into a narrow alley where a painted sign hung overhead:
CASIMIR VORLÍK – WATCHMAKER & REPAIRS
The man pushed the door open and all but shoved her inside.
---
The shop smelled of metal shavings and cedar oil. Every wall was lined with clocks — grandfather, carriage, mantel, cuckoo — each ticking in its own rhythm, none matching the others. The air was thick with their sound, an irregular orchestra of seconds.
"Sit," Casimir said, bolting the door behind them.
She stayed standing. "You know my name."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you've been here before."
Her laugh was sharp and disbelieving. "Pretty sure I'd remember this."
He opened the silver fob watch again and turned it toward her. Inside was not a clock face but a tiny whirl of light, spinning endlessly inward. "Memories don't always follow the same route through time."
Her stomach twisted as she stared at it. The light seemed to pull at her eyes, her breath.
She stepped back. "I don't understand any of this."
"You will. But first—" He closed the watch with a click. "That journal you're holding is why you're still alive. And if you want to stay that way, you need to listen to me very carefully."
The wall of clocks seemed to lean in, their ticking rising in unison.
"Time," Casimir said, "is not what you think it is. And someone is trying to cut you out of it."