The countdown bells faded into silence. But the city was not silent—far from it.
By nightfall, three banners appeared in the streets.
1. The Ashen Guild, masked in soot-stained cloaks, worshippers of fire and decay.
2. The Glass Order, silent scholars who spoke only through mirrored masks.
3. The Veiled Ones, shadows that walked without feet, whispering through mouths not their own.
Kairen and Safaa stood in the marketplace as the banners were hung. People bowed their heads in fear, not respect.
"They've smelled the crack in time," Safaa murmured. "Now every faction wants the first key."
Before Kairen could reply, the Ashen Guild surrounded them. Their leader, a tall man with burnt skin, grinned. His teeth were black as coal.
"The watch ticks for us now," he hissed. "Hand over the notebook, girl, and perhaps you'll keep your tongue."
Kairen's hand went to his blade. But Safaa placed her hand on his wrist. She didn't draw steel—she opened the notebook.
The page flipped on its own. Strange gears drew themselves in ink, forming a circle. The circle spun, faster and faster—then burst into sparks of golden fire.
The Guild stumbled back, screeching. One of them burned alive without flame.
Safaa closed the book. Her eyes, cold and unreadable, locked on their leader.
"Tell your master the Veil already chose."
They fled into the smoke.
But Kairen felt no victory. He saw the mirrors of the Glass Order watching from rooftops. And in the crowd's shadow, whispers slithered—The Veiled Ones had heard everything.