The wind howled through the broken arches of the battlefield, carrying with it the reek of ash and iron. Kairen kept his sword raised, though his arm ached from the weight. The Ashen Guild captain staggered closer, her face pale, her breath uneven, but her eyes—burning amber—were sharp with a soldier's discipline.
"I should kill you," Kairen said flatly.
"You should," she replied without hesitation, collapsing against a half-melted column. "But then you'd waste what little time you have left."
Kairen's grip tightened on his blade. "Speak."
The captain drew a small, scorched case from her belt. Its iron clasp had nearly fused shut, but she forced it open with bleeding fingers. Inside was a shard of obsidian etched with spirals of faint light, pulsing like a dying star.
"The Fifth Toll is coming," she said. "The Ashen Guild thought fire could delay it. The Mirror Masks thought light could distort it. The Veiled Ones thought shadow could drown it. We were all wrong."
Kairen's eyes flicked to the shard, suspicion in his gaze. "And you expect me to trust a remnant of your madness?"
She coughed, spitting blood. "No. But I expect you to understand. When the clocktower strikes again, it will not be this city that falls—it will be the world's rhythm. Every kingdom, every empire… time itself will fracture."
Her words rang with the weight of truth, but Kairen was not so easily swayed. He stepped closer, lowering his blade just enough to press it against her collarbone.
"Why tell me this?" he asked, his tone sharp. "You've seen what I can do. You know I don't kneel to cults. What do you gain?"
The captain's lips curved into a weak, humorless smile. "Because the heir—the girl—Safaa… she is not in your hands anymore. She is in the gears. And no matter how strong you are, you cannot break the Watchmaker's design alone."
Her words struck him harder than any blade. Kairen's jaw clenched, but his silence betrayed his calculation.
Finally, he asked, "What's your name?"
The woman straightened, blood staining her uniform as she saluted with the last of her strength.
"Captain Serenya Vale, Ashen Guild. Or what's left of it."
The name etched itself into Kairen's mind. Not as an ally—not yet—but as a piece on the board.
Before he could respond, the distant thunder of hooves broke through the air. Royal banners flapped against the smoke-stained sky, and armored riders emerged from the haze. The Crown's soldiers had arrived, their commander's voice booming across the ruins:
"By order of the King, lay down your weapons and submit!"
Kairen's eyes darted between the soldiers and Serenya, then to the looming silhouette of the clocktower, ticking louder with every passing second. He sheathed his sword slowly, though his gaze remained hard.
"Looks like we're out of time," Serenya muttered.
Kairen didn't answer. He only whispered to himself, Safaa, hold on…