The thirteenth chime echoed long after it should have ended.
Kael and Rykas stood in the rain-darkened alley, the sound reverberating through the city like a heartbeat out of sync with reality.
Rykas's hand rested on his sword. "That clock's been dead for years. I've passed it a hundred times."
Kael turned toward the source of the sound — the old Voltixol clock tower, a relic of the first reconstruction era. Its glass face was cracked, its gears frozen decades ago. Yet faint golden light flickered behind it, breathing like a pulse.
Without a word, they started walking.
The city grew quieter the closer they got. The streets near the tower were abandoned — lined with faded murals of the Founding Era, when the first settlers harnessed the energy of the Mother Oil.
Kael brushed a mural with his fingers, tracing a figure painted in gold — a man holding two blades, standing in front of a glowing rift. Beneath it, old lettering read:
"The One Who Turned Back the Heavens."
Rykas stopped beside him. "You think that's a coincidence?"
Kael's voice was low. "Nothing ever is."
They reached the base of the clock tower.
The gates were sealed with rusted steel and vines, but the faint hum coming from inside didn't sound mechanical — it was alive.
Kael pressed his hand to the gate.
The glow that had touched him earlier flickered faintly under his skin again — like it was answering.
Rykas's eyes widened. "Kael, your hand—"
A pulse of golden light shot out, crawling across the metal bars like fire in slow motion. The vines turned to ash. The gate creaked open.
They stepped in.
Inside, the air was colder.
Dust hung in the air like suspended memories. Broken gears lay scattered across the floor, but the main clock mechanism — impossibly — still turned. Slowly. Unevenly.
And beneath the gears was a pool of shimmering liquid gold.
Kael knelt near it. The glow from his veins brightened.
"This… this is Mother Oil," he whispered. "But it's not refined. It's… awake."
Rykas crouched beside him, frowning. "If this is real, then someone's been hiding it here. The government banned all contact with unrefined sources."
Kael dipped a finger into the pool. The surface rippled — and the world twitched.
A sudden rush of sound — whispers, echoes, visions.
Flashes of an ancient battlefield, a sky torn apart, a man shouting his name — not Kael, but something older.
Then silence.
Rykas caught him as he stumbled back. "Kael! What happened?"
Kael's breath trembled. "I saw… another time."
He looked at his reflection in the golden pool — and for an instant, it wasn't his face staring back.
A faint hum filled the tower, deepening into a resonant vibration. The gears began to spin faster, dust shaking loose from the walls.
Rykas drew his swords. "We need to leave. Now."
Kael didn't move. His eyes glowed faintly — gold and blue intertwining like twin currents. "No… it's calling me."
Before Rykas could react, the floor cracked open — revealing a circular mark beneath the pool, ancient runes spinning in reverse.
Time bent.
Rain outside reversed its fall. The clock's hands spun backward. The thirteenth chime echoed again.
And then— silence.
Kael awoke on the ground.
The tower was quiet again, the glow gone. Rykas knelt beside him, shaking his shoulder.
"Kael! Talk to me— what did you do?"
Kael looked around. The tower was the same… but outside the windows, the city skyline had changed. Some towers were missing. Others looked newer.
"We're not… in the same time anymore," he whispered.
Rykas froze. "You mean—"
Kael stood, staring out at the unfamiliar horizon. "Chrono Reversion. It's not a legend."