As the fog leans heavy against the windows, Nate brushes aside the tapestry and leads me through the hidden door. His lantern casts restless shadows across the stairway, the light swaying like breath held in suspense.
My heart drums a frantic rhythm, the silver watch in my pocket ticking erratically—as if it knows the secret buried below.
After Vale's unpleasant visit to the bookshop and the shadows in the fog last night, Nate's urgency turns toward me like a current, pulling me deeper into the undertow of his world.
His words from yesterday—"If you stay, you are entangled in it"—echo in my mind, mingling with the warmth of his hand brushing mine. Whether it's fear or a softer ache, I don't know. But his nearness always sets my pulse racing.
Each step downward draws the air tighter, the hum deepening in my bones—as if Eldridge Hollow itself waits, breathless and watching.
At the end of the stairway, Nate pushes open a door—
And I gasp.
The chamber unfolds like a cathedral of gears.
Its brass-clocked walls are lined with pendulums swaying in perfect unison, glowing softly with a golden light as they pause.
At the center of the chamber stands the clock—colossal and not quite of this world.
Its surface is carved with runes that seem to shift when not directly watched. Its hands shimmer with an unnatural light, sweeping forward then back in a dance that mocks the very order of time.
The air hangs dense with centuries of secrets, and I swear the clock is watching. Waiting.
"It's wonderful," I murmur, my voice trembling, "but terrifying."
Nate stands beside me, his presence a quiet anchor in the chamber's golden hum, steadying the chaos within me.
"It's a burden I never wanted," he says, fragile honesty lacing his voice. "But with you here, Jane… I finally feel like I'm not alone in this."
Our eyes lock.
My breath hitches.
Path wonder, path warning.
His vulnerability pulls at me like a thread—tender, unraveling—but the clock demands attention. Its power presses in, humming with secrets too old to name.
"What happens if Vale gets hold of it?" I ask, my fingers tightening around the watch in my pocket."I'm just a bookseller," I offer, though I'm beginning to question the truths written in the pages I once believed.
"You're more than that," Nate says softly, his hand brushing my arm.
A current runs through me at his touch, silencing everything but the space we share—the charged stillness between us—while the weight of the chamber settles over my shoulders like a cloak.
"What now?" I ask, steadier than I feel.
"We have to secure the clock," Nate says. "There's a ritual I found in my father's notes. It could work… but it comes with risk. And with Vale's men closing in, we don't have much time."
"Let's do this," I say, heart pounding.
"Together."
That night, the watch ticks slow.
Then—it stops altogether.
The silence is thick and pressing.
Then the faintest chime.
A soft warmth wraps around me—like a memory.
Like my mother's voice in the dark when I was small.
The air smells of lavender and old pages. I close my eyes—not afraid anymore, just full of questions.
The world tilts.
Shifts. Suffers.
And suddenly—I'm there again.
That voice drifts through candlelight, telling stories of places that only existed in dreams. His eyes gleam with something I didn't have words for back then.
The vision wraps around me so tightly I can almost smell the warm wax...
Feel the softness of worn pages brushing against my fingertips.
My chest tightens—
And then, it vanishes.
Tears prick my eyes.The watch can summon memories—
but each one takes a piece of me with it.
Nate's warnings echo in my mind.
Time is fragile.
I clutch the watch. It ticks softly—a reminder of the danger ahead.
Vale's shadow looms larger now, his men circling like wolves in the fog. But it's not just fear driving me.
It's Nate.
His faith in me.
That quiet, unwavering strength.
I've spent years dreaming of adventure through books, yearning to live one—but this is raw. Terrifying. Real.
The clock's power, the secret it holds... it's pulling me in.
As though I'm beginning to see.
I slip the watch into my pocket.
Its weight is a promise—
And a burden.
I am no longer just Jane Heather, the bookseller.
I am part of something vast—
Something that could end the world...
Or save it.
And as I think of Nate—his green eyes, those veined, steady hands—
I know I can't turn back.
Not from the clock.
And not from him.