There was a time when the city never slept. Wrenhaven pulsed with life—crowded markets, neon-lit rooftops, trains that roared through midnight, laughter echoing in narrow streets. But that was before the stillness came.
Before the clocks stopped in the heart of the city. Before magic returned—not as wonder, but as warning.
No one knows the exact moment it happened. Maybe it began with the birds vanishing from the skies. Or the way certain doors stopped opening, as though they'd forgotten they ever could. Some say it started when the cathedral bells rang thirteen times at dusk. Others swear it was when a girl walked into the center of Bellrose Square and never came out.
Averie Quinn remembers none of this.
She remembers the silence afterward.
The city she lives in now is a half-forgotten thing—part shadow, part myth. Its skyline glows with dying lights. Its alleyways hold too many secrets. The ordinary laws of nature bend in quiet corners, and no one dares to ask why.
She works in that silence. Beneath it. Through it. Delivering things that should not exist—keys to forgotten rooms, spells written in vanished languages, memories sealed in glass. Her clients are strange. Her life, stranger. But she doesn't flinch anymore.
Then one night, she hears a name whispered in a voice she forgot she missed.
Sloane Bennett.
A name buried by time. A girl she once loved. A life that never had the chance to unfold.
And the city stirs again.
Doors creak open that were never meant to move. The stillness deepens. And in the ruins of old magic and unfinished love, something ancient awakens.
Wrenhaven is no longer sleeping.
And neither is she.