Jay didn't tell Reina where he was going.
Not because he didn't trust her—
but because he knew she would stop him.
And this time… he needed to listen.
---
The entrance was hidden in plain sight.
An old maintenance stairwell beneath a forgotten transit hub, sealed off decades ago when the city rerouted its underground lines. Most people passed it without a glance. A metal door, rusted at the edges, half-swallowed by vines and time.
Jay stood there long after midnight, the city humming softly above him.
No ticking yet.
Just silence.
He rested his palm against the door.
The moment he did, the world shifted.
Not violently.
Not dramatically.
The hum of the city dulled, as if muffled by distance. The air thickened, carrying a faint metallic scent—old machinery, water, something ancient.
The door unlocked itself with a quiet click.
Jay exhaled.
"So it really is here…"
---
The stairwell descended deep.
Lights flickered on as he walked, one by one, responding not to motion—but to presence. The steps echoed under his feet, each sound swallowed almost immediately by the vastness below.
With every step, the ticking grew clearer.
Not loud.
Intimate.
Like someone breathing nearby.
Jay reached the bottom and stepped into a cavernous chamber carved directly into the bedrock beneath Aryavart.
He froze.
The space was enormous—far larger than the city records ever suggested. Stone pillars rose like roots holding up the world above. Water trickled down the walls, collecting into shallow pools that reflected faint golden light.
And at the center of it all—
the mechanism.
Not a machine.
Not a clock.
Something between.
A vast circular structure embedded into the floor, half-submerged in water. Rings of golden metal overlapped one another, etched with symbols Jay recognized instinctively but could not name.
No hands.
No numbers.
Only motion.
The rings turned slowly, silently, like the breathing of the earth itself.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Jay felt it in his chest.
He stepped closer.
---
Memories brushed against him—not as images, but as feelings.
Calm.
Resolve.
Acceptance.
This wasn't a place of power.
It was a place of decision.
Jay knelt at the edge of the pool, water rippling outward at his movement. He stared into the mechanism's reflection and saw his face distort, overlapping with another—older, calmer, burdened.
He shook his head.
"No," he whispered. "I'm not you anymore."
The ticking didn't stop.
The rings slowed slightly.
As if listening.
Jay laughed quietly, a tired sound.
"That's what you do, isn't it?" he murmured. "You wait. You don't force. You just… listen."
The chamber hummed softly in response.
For the first time since the fractures began, Jay didn't feel afraid.
He felt… acknowledged.
---
He stood and stepped into the water.
It was cold, but not uncomfortable. Each step sent ripples through the pool, and with them came flashes—memories that weren't quite memories.
A choice to step away from a throne.
A promise to protect peace by leaving it behind.
A belief that the future should not be ruled by the past.
Jay closed his eyes.
"I wanted a quiet life," he said softly. "I still do."
The mechanism slowed further.
"I don't want to rule," he continued. "I don't want to be remembered. I don't want the city—or time—to bend around me."
The ticking faltered.
Jay opened his eyes.
"But," he whispered, "if you woke up because of me… then maybe running isn't the answer either."
The rings stopped.
Completely.
Silence filled the chamber.
Jay's breath caught.
For one terrifying moment, he thought he'd broken something fundamental.
Then—
a single pulse of golden light spread outward from the mechanism, washing gently through the cavern walls, climbing upward through stone and steel toward the sleeping city above.
Not destructive.
Stabilizing.
The ticking resumed.
Slower now.
Steadier.
Balanced.
Jay stepped back, heart pounding.
"What… did I just do?"
No voice answered.
But the air felt lighter.
The pressure in his chest eased for the first time in days.
---
Jay turned to leave.
As he reached the stairwell, he paused.
On the stone wall beside the exit, something had changed.
A symbol had been carved there—fresh, glowing faintly.
Not the symbol of return.
Not the symbol of awakening.
A different one.
A circle, open at the top.
Jay stared at it for a long time.
"…An unfinished cycle," he murmured.
He smiled faintly.
"Figures."
---
When Jay emerged back into the city, dawn was beginning to break. Aryavart glowed softly under the early light, unaware of what rested beneath its foundations.
The city breathed.
Time flowed.
And for now—
the place beneath Aryavart slept again.
Not sealed.
Not forgotten.
But waiting.
For when Jay would be ready to decide what kind of listener he wanted to be.