The city of Gearsfall never slept. Steam hissed from every corner, cobblestones clanged under the weight of rolling carts, and giant clock towers loomed over every street, their hands forever marking the lives of those below. Time wasn't just measured here—it was bought, sold, borrowed, stolen.
Arin wiped grease from her small hands, her eyes fixed on the delicate pocket watch in front of her. It was her favorite piece in her late guardian's cluttered shop, the one thing she had kept since she was left at the doorstep twelve years ago. But today, the watch didn't tick.
"Arin! Lunch won't wait!" called old Mr. Brindle, the clockmaker who had raised her, though she was technically nobody's.
She shoved the watch into her pocket. "Coming," she muttered, but her gaze lingered. Something about the watch… it wasn't broken. It was… waiting.
The bell above the shop door jingled. A tall figure stepped in, shrouded in a dark coat that smelled faintly of rain and metal. His eyes scanned the shop, pausing on Arin.
"Are you the girl with the sideways watch?" he asked, voice low but commanding.
Arin froze. Sideways? That wasn't a word she'd ever heard used for her watch.
"I—yes?" she whispered, unsure if she should be afraid.
He smiled just slightly. "Good. I've been looking for you."
And just like that, the quiet day in the shop exploded. Clocks ticked faster, gears spun wildly, and the little pocket watch in her pocket began to hum—not forward, not backward, but sideways, as if it were breathing.
Arin didn't know it yet, but her life was about to be measured in ways no clocktower ever could.