The night sky above the city rippled unnaturally, as though a giant hand brushed across the fabric of the heavens. Stars flickered, dimmed, then blazed back brighter than before. Orion and Elias both looked up from the clock tower's balcony, their breaths caught in their throats.
The first toll rang out.
It wasn't from the tower's bells. It came from nowhere and everywhere at once—deep, resonant, a sound that shook the marrow of bones. The air trembled with it, the cobblestones cracked, and the gears hidden beneath the city groaned as if awakened from centuries of slumber.
Elias grabbed the railing, his knuckles white. "It's them. The Watchers are ringing judgment."
Orion clenched his jaw. "Good. Let them come."
The second toll followed. Shadows peeled themselves from the corners of buildings, elongating into cloaked silhouettes. They carried no weapons, yet every step they took carved fractures into the world around them. Windows frosted, lantern flames guttered, and time itself seemed to hesitate.
By the third toll, the city had gone silent. Not silent in the usual sense—silent in a way that erased sound. The flap of wings, the bark of dogs, the hum of life—all gone, stolen by the Watchers' presence. Only the ticking of Orion's pocket watch remained, stubborn against the hush.
Elias hissed under his breath. "Orion, we can't fight this. They're not men. They're echoes of the first hour."
Orion turned to him, eyes burning with a dangerous clarity. "Then we'll give them something new to echo."
The fourth toll shuddered through the city. The Watchers raised their hands as one, and with a sweeping gesture, they shattered the flow of time.
Everything stopped.
Snowflakes frozen in midair. Ash from a distant chimney hung suspended. Even the blood rushing in Orion's veins seemed to halt. His body screamed in resistance, yet his mind remained awake, thrashing against the invisible net.
But the golden threads in his satchel stirred. They pulsed wildly, vibrating against the stasis, forcing movement where there should be none. Orion gasped, feeling his lungs drag in a defiant breath.
The Watchers turned their faceless hoods toward him in unison. For the first time, he felt their attention sharpen like blades.
"Why do you resist?" The voice was not singular but a chorus of a thousand ticking clocks.
Orion's throat tightened. He wanted to say because I must. Instead, he raised the brass dial infused with golden light. Its glow spread like fire, unraveling the frozen air around him, freeing Elias from his suspended prison.
The Watchers tilted their heads, as if curious. The fifth toll rang, and with it came a tearing sound—the fabric of the sky splitting open.
From the rift, gears the size of mountains descended slowly, their grinding echo a hymn of inevitability. This was no mere warning—it was a trial, and the city itself would pay the price if Orion faltered.
Elias staggered beside him, sweat dripping down his face. "Orion… this is madness. Do you even understand what they're testing?"
"Yes," Orion said, though his voice cracked. He pointed at the descending gears. "They want me to submit. To admit that man cannot rewrite what's written." His grip tightened on the dial until his knuckles bled. "But I won't."
The sixth toll roared, and the Watchers moved, their cloaks unfurling into rivers of darkness that surged toward the tower.
Orion inhaled, steadying his trembling hands. The fragments flared within the dial, their light searing against the shadows. His voice rang out, not just to Elias, not just to himself, but to the entities watching from beyond:
"Then let this be the hour where man dares to stand against the clock!"
The seventh toll rang, and battle began.