The morning mist clung to Port Belen like a damp shroud, its rusted scent thick enough to choke. I followed Claire through the cobblestone streets, my fingers brushing the frayed edge of Stellar Fragments in my coat pocket. The book had grown heavier overnight—or had my hands started to tremble?
"Slow down," Claire said, her boot clanging against a discarded gear. Her brass bracelets jangled with constellations, and her scarred face was set in a tight line. "The Red Theater's guards still think we're just another troupe of actors. Best not draw attention."
I nodded, though my pulse raced. Last night, in the flickering light of the old church basement, we'd pored over the Fragments' newest revelation: "The seventh artifact lies beneath the Theater's stage—where the Leviathan's shadow first touched mortal soil." And now, here we were, approaching the theater's crumbling facade, its once-gilded letters "ROYAL ACADEMY OF DRAMA" peeling like sunburnt skin.
A guard lurked by the entrance, his rifle slung lazily over one arm. But as Claire approached, he straightened, eyes widening. Not at her—the air around her seemed to shimmer, as if heat waves were warping the space. "M-Miss Claire," he stammered, saluting. "The… the performance tonight's canceled. The lead actor—"
"Cancel nothing," Claire said, her voice low. "We need access to the stage. Now."
The guard hesitated, then stepped aside. As we slipped through the iron gate, I caught a whiff of something wrong—a metallic tang, like blood mixed with ozone, clinging to the theater's drapes.
The main hall was empty, save for a single spotlight burning overhead. Its beam cut through the dust, revealing rows of tattered velvet seats and a stage littered with props: a fake sword, a crumpled scroll, a porcelain mask with one eye missing.
Claire closed the distance to the stage, her boots silent on the rotting wood. She knelt, running a hand along the edge of the stage. "Here," she said, pressing a loose floorboard. With a creak, it shifted, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
"Breathe," she said, turning to me. "The artifacts respond to the Starwatcher's aura. If you're meant to find this, the path will reveal itself."
I swallowed hard. My "aura" felt more like a heartbeat—erratic, loud, afraid. But I stepped onto the stairs, the air growing colder with each step. By the time I reached the bottom, my breath misted in front of me.
The chamber below was circular, lit by a single candle flickering on a stone pedestal. In the center stood a glass case, its surface etched with runes. Inside? A bronze pocket watch, its hands frozen at 11:55—the same time as the church's broken clock.
"The Astral Pocket Watch," I murmured, recognizing the description from the Fragments. "Seventh artifact. Anchors time to reality."
But as I reached for the case, the candle snuffed out.
Darkness swallowed us whole.
"Claire?" I whispered, fumbling for my Zippo. The lighter flickered to life, casting jagged shadows on the walls. And that's when I saw them—things clinging to the stone, their bodies like shadow and bone, with too many limbs and eyes that glowed faintly blue.
"Voidspawn," Claire hissed, drawing a dagger from her belt. Its blade was etched with star symbols, glowing faintly. "They're drawn to the watch. Don't let them touch it!"
One of the creatures lunged. I swung the Zippo, but it passed through the thing like smoke. Then Claire was there, her dagger slicing through its arm. The creature shrieked, a sound like nails on glass, and dissolved into a cloud of moths.
"Move!" she yelled, grabbing my wrist. We sprinted toward the watch, but the other spawn blocked our path, their bodies weaving into a wall of shadow.
I froze. My mind raced back to the Fragments' pages—the "Starwatcher's Aura," the "power of the stars." What did it mean?
Then I remembered: the night I picked up the book, the water had felt warm, almost alive. The book had spoken to me, not with words, but with a hum in my bones.
I closed my eyes, focusing on that hum. On the stars I'd memorized in graduate school—Orion, Cassiopeia, the Big Dipper. On the way they'd felt, distant and unyielding, yet somehow connected to everything.
When I opened my eyes, the shadow-wall rippled. The creatures hissed, recoiling as if burned.
Claire stared at me, her dagger still raised. "What… what did you do?"
"I don't know," I said, my voice shaking. But I knew. The hum had grown louder, resonating in my chest. The watch's glass case had frosted over, and inside, the hands began to move—slowly, but forward.
A roar shook the chamber.
From the darkness emerged a figure: tall, gaunt, with skin like cracked parchment and eyes that were not eyes—voids, swirling with stars.
"The Leviathan's herald," Claire whispered. "It's come for the watch."
The herald raised a clawed hand, and the shadows coalesced into a tentacle that lashed toward us. I grabbed Claire, diving out of the way, but the tentacle smashed into the wall, sending rubble crashing down.
The pocket watch's hands spun wildly now, its glass cracking. "Hurry!" Claire yelled. "It's weakening the barrier!"
I lunged for the case, my fingers brushing the watch just as the herald's tentacle slammed into me. Pain exploded in my chest, but I held on, feeling a surge of energy—hot, bright, like sunlight—flowing into me.
The herald shrieked, recoiling. The shadows dissolved, and the chamber filled with a golden light.
When I looked down, the watch was in my hand. Its hands now pointed to 12:00, and the runes on its case glowed with a steady, warm light.
The herald was gone.
Claire helped me to my feet, her eyes wide. "You… you activated the watch. How?"
I stared at the artifact, then at the Fragments in my pocket. The pages had shifted again, revealing a new passage: "The Starwatcher is not a vessel. He is a bridge—between what is, and what could be."
Behind us, the stairs creaked.
We turned.
A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the stairwell's light. He was tall, dressed in a tattered overcoat, with a familiar scar across his cheek.
"Mr. Zhou," he said, his voice gravelly. "You've done well. But the Leviathan's tide is rising. We have much to discuss."
I recognized him from the Fragments' illustration—the previous Starwatcher.
And he was very, very much alive.