Chapter 3 – The Pendulum's Shadow
The basement smelled of oil, dust, and something older—something that had been sealed away too long. The air pressed in thick and stale, like the breath of a forgotten tomb. Lucas stood at the bottom of the narrow stairs, one hand on the cracked railing, the other gripping the torch he'd brought. The wavering cone of light danced over the shadows, making the shelves of tools and crates seem like silent watchers.
The clock stood against the far wall exactly as he'd last seen it—tall, dark oak, its surface warped by time but still unbroken. Its glass face caught the torchlight in a cold glint, and the hands sat frozen in that same impossible moment: 12:00:00. He'd checked a hundred times, even in daylight. It was never a second before, never a second after.
But tonight… there was something different.
The pendulum.
It moved.
Not fast. Not swinging. It was shivering. Just the faintest tremor, like a breath caught before a scream. And with every tiny shift of its weight, Lucas thought he could hear it—a whisper so quiet it might have been in his own skull.
"…tick…"
The sound wasn't mechanical. It wasn't even steady. It was more like someone forcing the word through clenched teeth. Lucas's throat tightened.
"I shouldn't be here," he whispered to himself.
But something pulled him forward anyway. His footsteps on the stone floor sounded too loud, as though the room were listening. Every instinct screamed to turn around, climb the stairs, and lock the door. But his curiosity was a hook in his chest, dragging him closer.
The closer he got, the colder the air became, as if the heat was being pulled away. He reached out, hesitant fingers brushing the clock's carved side. The wood was so cold it almost burned.
The pendulum stilled.
Lucas froze.
The whisper stopped.
Then the hand of the clock moved.
Just one tick forward—12:00:01.
It was like the floor dropped out from under him. In that instant, the torchlight flickered, and the basement wasn't a basement anymore.
The shelves were gone. The crates, the stone walls—gone. He stood in an endless hall, lined with hundreds—no, thousands—of clocks. Grandfather clocks, pocket watches, wall clocks, all of them ticking at different times. The sound was deafening, a chaotic sea of overlapping ticks and tocks.
At the far end of the hall stood a figure.
It wasn't moving. It wasn't breathing. It was wearing a long coat, and where its face should have been, there was only a round, black clock face with no hands.
Lucas stumbled back, panic choking him. His heart slammed against his ribs.
The figure tilted its head.
And then… it began walking toward him.
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Chapter 4 – The Keeper Without Time
The ticking from the countless clocks became unbearable, drilling into Lucas's skull. He clutched his head, but the sound wasn't just in his ears—it was inside him, vibrating in his bones.
The figure's steps were slow, deliberate. With each one, the clocks on either side seemed to stop, their hands freezing as though afraid. The hallway dimmed until the only light came from the faint glow of the figure's clock-face head.
When it stopped a few feet away, Lucas could see there was no glass, no hands—only an endless black void where the dial should be. Looking into it felt like leaning over a cliff and seeing nothing, no bottom, no sky, just forever.
"You touched it," the figure said.
The voice wasn't a sound—it was a ripple in the air, a vibration that sank into Lucas's chest. His knees nearly buckled.
"I… I didn't mean—" Lucas began, but his voice broke. The air around him felt thick, like syrup.
"There are rules," the figure continued, head tilting slightly. "Time moves only where it is allowed. You have made it move where it was not meant to."
"I didn't—" Lucas tried again, but a sudden pressure hit him, forcing him to his knees. The figure crouched, and the blackness of its face loomed inches from his own.
"You have one second," it said. "One. Use it wisely."
And just like that, Lucas was back in the basement.
The torchlight was steady again. The shelves and crates were back. The clock stood unmoved—hands frozen again at 12:00:01. His breath came in ragged bursts, his heart pounding.
A voice echoed faintly behind his ear, not in the room but inside it.
"One…"
The basement lightbulb flickered and went out.
Darkness swallowed him whole.