Morning came too softly.
The warm sunlight streamed in through the open window, painting golden lines across the floorboards. It should've been a peaceful scene. Should've felt like every other morning they had spent together.
But Lucian Viero… felt nothing like peace.
He stood in the kitchen, pouring hot water into a chipped mug. Steam curled into the air. His shirt hung loose, half-buttoned. He hummed a tune from memory, but his mind wasn't on the melody. It was on her.
She's been off since last night.
He turned when he heard the floor creak.
Nyssia stepped out, barefoot, her blue nightdress brushing her thighs. Her hair was a mess — not the cute kind, the kind that screamed something broke inside her sleep. Her eyes were hollow, almost haunted.
"Did you sleep?" Lucian asked, keeping his tone light.
She nodded, but too quickly. "Yeah. Just… weird dreams."
He watched her carefully as she walked past. She kept her face turned slightly away — always tilting to hide her right eye.
The tension only grew thicker with the day.
Lucian had known Nyssia for years. He could read her like a damn book — except now, it was like someone had ripped out half the pages and burned them.
She flinched at the microwave beep. Spaced out staring at the wall clock. Kept touching her temple like it throbbed.
Once, while she was watching the clouds out the window, he saw her reflection — just a flicker — her right eye wasn't blue.
It was violet.
A color that looked unnatural. Cursed. Mechanical.
A ticking clock inside her eye.
"...Nyssia," he said, voice low.
She looked back at him. Blue eyes. Normal. Soft. Confused.
"What?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
But now, the thought dug into him like a blade. Something was inside her.
That night, he couldn't take it anymore.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair, silent.
Lucian walked in slowly. His footsteps were careful — not threatening. But his presence was like a storm pressing against the door.
"Nyssia," he said, voice calm but firm, "look at me."
She froze. Her fingers tightened around the brush.
"I… I don't want to talk right now."
"I'm not asking for a conversation," he said. He walked closer. "I'm asking to see the truth."
She tried to stand — he stopped her gently, placing one hand on her shoulder, the other on her jaw.
Lucian slowly, softly, laid her back on the bed.
She didn't resist.
He leaned over her, brushing her silver hair aside, strands clinging to her cheek.
Her right eye was now visible.
What he saw made his heart stop.
A deep violet sclera. Clock digits etched in a circle inside the iris — Roman numerals, black and pulsing. A ticking hand rotated inside it, alive.
"...What the hell is this?" he whispered, breath catching in his throat.
Nyssia didn't blink. Didn't flinch.
Her voice was soft. "It's not something I chose."
"Then who gave it to you?"
She closed her eyes.
Silence.
That silence hit harder than any answer.
Lucian stayed above her, still holding her, still trying to find the girl he knew behind that eye. But the girl who looked back at him...
…was no longer human.
Far beyond their world, in a space between time itself, the Caerunos Clock ticked once.
Ancient and godlike. Floating in the void.
One of its glowing rings pulsed violently.
A new user had awakened.
Lucian sat alone in the living room hours later, staring at an old photo of the two of them on the beach. Smiling. Sunlight. Innocent times.
He looked down the hallway to where Nyssia now slept in silence, unaware of how much had shifted.
"Something touched her soul… and I wasn't allowed to see it."
"But whatever it was… it changed everything."