The morning light filtered through half-closed blinds, slicing golden lines across the bed.
Lucian Viero sat on the edge, elbows on knees, hands laced together in silent thought.
His chest felt… tight.
The image of her eye was burned into him now — not just in memory, but somewhere deeper. That glowing clock... the ticking digits, the silent moving hand, the violet hue that didn't belong to any normal world.
"What the hell did I see last night?"
She had fought him at first. Avoided, resisted, pleaded with those soft blue eyes — the normal one. But once he'd pinned her gently, brushed aside her hair and looked closer…
Reality shifted.
It wasn't human. It wasn't science. It wasn't some trick of light.
Nyssia was changed.
Irrevocably.
"That wasn't just a curse. That was a mark."
"Like she's been claimed."
Behind him, he felt movement — the subtle rustle of the blanket, her bare shoulder slipping into view as Nyssia sat up.
"Lucian…" she whispered.
He didn't answer.
Not yet.
She crawled slowly to him, resting her chin against his shoulder from behind. Her voice was light, but her tone was trembling.
"…you're scared of me now, aren't you?"
Lucian turned to her — slowly — and stared into her eyes.
One blue.
One violet, gently pulsing with symbols beneath the surface.
"No," he said quietly. "I'm scared of what's happening to you."
She flinched.
"I didn't ask for this," she said quickly, defensive. "I just touched that crystal, and then… that night, something came. Everything froze, and she—she just said I was the one—"
"She?" he cut in, sharply.
Nyssia bit her lip. "…an angel. Or something that looked like one."
Lucian stood, pacing the room. His voice hardened.
"I need to know the truth, No more hiding it. What can you do?"
She hesitated.
Then, she raised her hand — and snapped her fingers.
Click.
Silence.
Lucian blinked.
The curtain had stopped mid-sway.
The steam from the teacup on the table had frozen mid-air, curling unnaturally like it was trapped in glass.
Lucian turned to her in disbelief. "You… stopped time?"
"I didn't even try," she whispered. "It's like my body knows how. The second I will it, it obeys."
She looked down at her hand — trembling.
"But it's not… normal. I can feel it breaking something inside me. Every time I use it, it's like… time resists me."
Lucian stepped toward her. The world still frozen around them.
"Can you start it again?"
She nodded. Another snap — time slammed back into place like a piano key pressed down.
The steam curled forward. The curtain finished its dance. The second hand on the wall clock ticked like nothing happened.
Later that day
Lucian sat on the balcony, watching the people move in the streets far below.
She joined him quietly, two cups of tea in her hands. She passed one to him, fingers brushing his.
He didn't flinch. Just stared at her.
Her hair glowed softly in the sun. Her smile looked the same. Her laugh sounded the same. But inside her…
"She's a ticking timebomb. A goddess wrapped in human skin."
"Why are you staring?" she asked, sipping her tea.
Lucian exhaled.
"…You're not just cursed," he said finally. "You've been chosen. Marked. Changed."
She looked away.
"I'm still me, Lucian."
"You're not. But that's okay."
He stood. "You're mine either way."
She looked up, surprised.
His hand touched her cheek — the cursed side. He leaned down, gently pressing his forehead to hers.
"I don't care what power's inside you. I'm staying."
Unknown to them…
Far away, in the clockwork ruins between dimensions, an ancient sigil turned once.
The hour hand shifted.
A fractured voice whispered through the void:
"Zereth awakens. The Clockwalker stirs."
"And fate begins to crack."