The early morning fog clings to Eldridge Hollow like a shroud, swallowing the world hush, as I unlock Pearl Holmes the morning after my visit to Nate's shop . The silver watch in my pocket stutters in time refusing rhythm, a steady reminder if his words: it's a piece of the clocks soul. Stay close, we are in this together. His touch, as fleeting as moonlight, haunts me still stirring a flicker beneath my ribs that has no name . But that name Lord Cedric Vale, spoken with such coldness in Nate's voice , chills me.Vale is no stranger to this town a wealthy aristocrat whose charm masks something cold, his influence spreading like ivy crawling along forgotten stone, his presence winds through the town. The watch grows heavier as though the town. The watch grows heavier, as though the motions stacking poetry and tales of far off lands yet my mind drifts to Nate and that strange clock that defies time . What kind of power sways over fate itself. Behold Lord Cedric Vale walks into my bookshop abrasive as broken glass tumbling unto a stone.
His dark aura fills the room as his fur coat brushs against the floor his cane tapping a slow deliberate rhythm "Miss Heather" he says his smile sharp as a two edged sword "a pleasure to meet you".
I straighten behind the counter, my heart thudding "Lord Cedric. How may I help you?"
He passes through the aisles his eyes scanning through the shelves but yet his gaze anchors to me, as if searching for something hidden. "I hear you've taken an interest on Burner's Timeworks,"he says , his voice smooth as satin, yet barbed beneath. "A strange choice for a book seller."
My hands tightened on a parcel, the watch ticking loud in my pocket "I've visited" I say keeping my tone even "Why does it matter to you"
His gaze hits the outline of the watch against my pants, and his smile tightens.
"Burner's Timeworks guards something valuable. In rare or let's say unique properties, I'd pay handsomely for it."
I meet his eyes, refusing to be shaken.
"It's not for sale."
He steps an inch closer, his cologne clinging to the air—bold and aggressive.
"Everything has a price, Jane. Even loyalty."
The atmosphere changes, his words a blade grazing my resolve.
"Some things are worth more than gold," I say, my voice steady despite the chill and fear his presence brings.
Vale's smile doesn't fade, but his eyes harden like ice over a dark sea.
"We shall see," he says, tapping his cane on the floor. The bell jingles as he leaves, and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
His visit wasn't a courtesy—it was a warning.
My unease manifests as the day goes on. The fog outside thickens, minute by minute, as the watch ticking feels like a heartbeat urging me to act. I lock the shop hurriedly as I leave for Burner's Timeworks the echo of the heels on my boots clacking on the cobblestones.
Somehow, the shop's windows glow through the mist. The ticking clocks greet me like an old friend.
Nate is at his workbench, busy as always, his dark hair falling over his brows. He looks up as I enter the shop, his green eyes softening for a moment before a flicker of concern shadows his features.
"Jane, what's the problem?" he asks, setting the chronometer down.
The story pours from me—Vale's cryptic warnings, his too-curious questions, and those eyes that seem to peel me back layer by layer.
Nate goes still, jaw clenched, eyes stormy.
"He's already here, isn't he?"
"What does he know?" I murmur, fingers brushing the watch, its weight suddenly unbearable.
"Enough to be a threat," Nate says.
He leads me to a corner of the shop where an ornate tapestry of stitched clock faces veils a solid oak door—time woven into its very threads. It unlocks, revealing a dark stairway.
"The clock is down there," he says quietly, "in a hidden chamber. It's been my family's burden for generations."
"It bends time—reversing moments, glimpsing the future—but each use leaves a scar. My father used it once... for love. He disappeared."
I hear the pain in his voice, the loss etched in his heart, tightening his jaw.
"Why keep it, if it's so dangerous?" I ask.
"It can't be destroyed," he replies, his voice heavy, "Not without tearing the fabric of time itself. I keep it hidden—from people like Vale, who would twist it for power."
I step closer, reaching for his arm—a tentative gesture that feels bolder than it should.
"You don't have to do this alone."
His eyes soften as he covers my hand with his, his touch warm and steady.
"I never meant to pull you into this," he says softly. "But danger is already at our door."
"If you stay, you're entangled in it."
The air tightens—electric and breathless—as if the sky itself is holding its breath.
"I'm not afraid," I insist, but the truth drops heavy in my chest.
What I feel isn't fear—it's him.
A shadow roams outside, a silhouette in the fog behind the shop's window. The air shifts—tense and heavy.
Nate's hand clasps mine harder.
"We're being followed," I whisper, barely moving my lips.
The tension in his jaw mirrors the storm in his eyes.
"They're circling," he says. "Vale's dogs. And they won't knock twice."
The clocks around us tick louder, like a countdown to something inevitable.
A watch throbs against my palm, matching my heartbeat like a warning drum.
Vale's reach coils through Eldridge Hollow, and with every breath beside Nate, I sink deeper into a mystery laced with peril.
But with his hands in mine, and his steps lighting the path ahead, the fear quiets.
This clock—its power, its curse.
I am part of it now.
So is he.
The early morning fog clings to Eldridge Hollow like a shroud, swallowing the world hush, as I unlock Pearl Holmes the morning after my visit to Nate's shop . The silver watch in my pocket stutters in time refusing rhythm, a steady reminder if his words: it's a piece of the clocks soul. Stay close, we are in this together. His touch, as fleeting as moonlight, haunts me still stirring a flicker beneath my ribs that has no name . But that name Lord Cedric Vale, spoken with such coldness in Nate's voice , chills me.Vale is no stranger to this town a wealthy aristocrat whose charm masks something cold, his influence spreading like ivy crawling along forgotten stone, his presence winds through the town. The watch grows heavier as though the town. The watch grows heavier, as though the motions stacking poetry and tales of far off lands yet my mind drifts to Nate and that strange clock that defies time . What kind of power sways over fate itself. Behold Lord Cedric Vale walks into my bookshop abrasive as broken glass tumbling unto a stone.
His dark aura fills the room as his fur coat brushs against the floor his cane tapping a slow deliberate rhythm "Miss Heather" he says his smile sharp as a two edged sword "a pleasure to meet you".
I straighten behind the counter, my heart thudding "Lord Cedric. How may I help you?"
He passes through the aisles his eyes scanning through the shelves but yet his gaze anchors to me, as if searching for something hidden. "I hear you've taken an interest on Burner's Timeworks,"he says , his voice smooth as satin, yet barbed beneath. "A strange choice for a book seller."
My hands tightened on a parcel, the watch ticking loud in my pocket "I've visited" I say keeping my tone even "Why does it matter to you"
His gaze hits the outline of the watch against my pants, and his smile tightens.
"Burner's Timeworks guards something valuable. In rare or let's say unique properties, I'd pay handsomely for it."
I meet his eyes, refusing to be shaken.
"It's not for sale."
He steps an inch closer, his cologne clinging to the air—bold and aggressive.
"Everything has a price, Jane. Even loyalty."
The atmosphere changes, his words a blade grazing my resolve.
"Some things are worth more than gold," I say, my voice steady despite the chill and fear his presence brings.
Vale's smile doesn't fade, but his eyes harden like ice over a dark sea.
"We shall see," he says, tapping his cane on the floor. The bell jingles as he leaves, and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.
His visit wasn't a courtesy—it was a warning.
My unease manifests as the day goes on. The fog outside thickens, minute by minute, as the watch ticking feels like a heartbeat urging me to act. I lock the shop hurriedly as I leave for Burner's Timeworks the echo of the heels on my boots clacking on the cobblestones.
Somehow, the shop's windows glow through the mist. The ticking clocks greet me like an old friend.
Nate is at his workbench, busy as always, his dark hair falling over his brows. He looks up as I enter the shop, his green eyes softening for a moment before a flicker of concern shadows his features.
"Jane, what's the problem?" he asks, setting the chronometer down.
The story pours from me—Vale's cryptic warnings, his too-curious questions, and those eyes that seem to peel me back layer by layer.
Nate goes still, jaw clenched, eyes stormy.
"He's already here, isn't he?"
"What does he know?" I murmur, fingers brushing the watch, its weight suddenly unbearable.
"Enough to be a threat," Nate says.
He leads me to a corner of the shop where an ornate tapestry of stitched clock faces veils a solid oak door—time woven into its very threads. It unlocks, revealing a dark stairway.
"The clock is down there," he says quietly, "in a hidden chamber. It's been my family's burden for generations."
"It bends time—reversing moments, glimpsing the future—but each use leaves a scar. My father used it once... for love. He disappeared."
I hear the pain in his voice, the loss etched in his heart, tightening his jaw.
"Why keep it, if it's so dangerous?" I ask.
"It can't be destroyed," he replies, his voice heavy, "Not without tearing the fabric of time itself. I keep it hidden—from people like Vale, who would twist it for power."
I step closer, reaching for his arm—a tentative gesture that feels bolder than it should.
"You don't have to do this alone."
His eyes soften as he covers my hand with his, his touch warm and steady.
"I never meant to pull you into this," he says softly. "But danger is already at our door."
"If you stay, you're entangled in it."
The air tightens—electric and breathless—as if the sky itself is holding its breath.
"I'm not afraid," I insist, but the truth drops heavy in my chest.
What I feel isn't fear—it's him.
A shadow roams outside, a silhouette in the fog behind the shop's window. The air shifts—tense and heavy.
Nate's hand clasps mine harder.
"We're being followed," I whisper, barely moving my lips.
The tension in his jaw mirrors the storm in his eyes.
"They're circling," he says. "Vale's dogs. And they won't knock twice."
The clocks around us tick louder, like a countdown to something inevitable.
A watch throbs against my palm, matching my heartbeat like a warning drum.
Vale's reach coils through Eldridge Hollow, and with every breath beside Nate, I sink deeper into a mystery laced with peril.
But with his hands in mine, and his steps lighting the path ahead, the fear quiets.
This clock—its power, its curse.
I am part of it now.
So is he.