The city of Halden never truly slept, but tonight it seemed quieter, as if the rain had washed away the noise and left only shadows behind.
Edward stood beneath a flickering streetlamp, clutching the pocket watch he had repaired earlier that day. The brass casing gleamed faintly in the pale light, but its hands refused to move forward. Instead, they twitched erratically—sometimes pausing for minutes, other times spinning backward in sharp jerks.
A chill crawled up Edward's spine. He was no stranger to strange happenings lately, but this watch… it was unlike anything he'd ever encountered.
The air grew heavier, and from the misty distance, Edward caught sight of a figure watching him—cloaked, face hidden beneath a deep hood. A woman, he thought, but before he could move, the figure melted into the shadows, vanishing as if she had never been there.
His heart hammered. Questions surged, but no answers followed.
---
Elsewhere, in a cramped apartment stacked with old books and curious artifacts, Elara turned the same watch over in her hands. The watch had been hers since childhood—never working properly, but always there, a constant whisper of something forgotten.
Tonight, the watch ticked louder, louder until it seemed to echo inside her very skull. Her fingers trembled as the hands spun backward, counting down in silence. For a moment, time itself seemed to slow—her breath suspended, the rain frozen mid-drop outside her window.
Elara's eyes darted to the shadows lurking at the edge of the room, shadows that weren't there moments before. She swallowed hard and pulled the curtains shut.
---
Back on the street, Edward's mind raced. Why did the watch react this way? Was it connected to the faint glow he'd seen beneath his skin?
He returned to Clocksmith's Corner, the old repair shop where Master Orrin waited in the dim light, his amber eyes reflecting the ticking clocks lining the walls.
"You saw her," Orrin said quietly, not looking up. "The one who watches from the shadows."
Edward frowned. "How do you know?"
Orrin's gaze was steady. "Because she's been watching you for years. And because time itself calls to her."
Edward's fingers curled around the pocket watch. "Who is she?"
"A guardian of the river," Orrin whispered. "One who follows the threads woven by the Time Lords. She knows more than anyone suspects."
Edward swallowed the lump in his throat. "And she's watching me now?"
"More than that," Orrin said, "she's waiting."
---
Later that night, Edward sat at his desk, the watch ticking erratically beside a scattered pile of blueprints. The rain tapped on the window, a steady rhythm syncing with the clock's pulse.
His fingers brushed the glowing hourglass mark, and suddenly, the world shifted.
The room blurred. Time seemed to fold, like pages flipping in a book.
Edward was no longer in his cramped apartment but standing in the middle of a vast field under a sky strewn with unfamiliar stars.
A voice echoed in the wind—a voice both foreign and intimate.
"Edward… The river flows. You must choose your path."
Before he could answer, the vision shattered, and Edward found himself gasping, back at his desk.
---
Across the city, Elara pored over ancient tomes, searching for answers about the watch and the elusive "Lord of Time" mentioned in the faded note she had discovered.
The stories were fragmented—a tapestry of legends speaking of men who controlled the flow of time, who could mend the fabric of reality or unravel it.
Elara's fingers traced a passage describing an artifact known as the Eternal Clock, said to hold the power to govern all timelines.
Her heart quickened.
Could the watch be connected? Was Edward more than just a simple watchmaker?
---
Outside, the rain began to fall again, washing the city in silver light.
Edward felt the weight of unseen eyes upon him, threads of fate tightening around his soul.
Somewhere, in the shadows, the woman watched—waiting for the moment their paths would collide.
And time… was running out.