Lin Xiaoxia and Xu Yuan followed the breadcrumbs of her dreams toward the enigmatic clock tower. Every detail from her visions—the ashen hue of its walls, the metallic tang in the air, the oppressive weight pressing against her chest—guided their search.
Xiaoya unearthed records of a derelict estate hidden in the hinterlands, its archives speckled with references to a towering chronometer. The same one from Lin Xiaoxia’s nightmares.
The journey there was a descent into silence. The estate sprawled like a carcass picked clean by time, its skeletal trees clawing at a leaden sky. And there, piercing the horizon—the clock tower.
Just as she’d dreamed.
Its hands crawled backward, each tick a labored groan, as if the mechanism were dragging the world with it.
Inside, the air smelled of rust and something older—dried ink, perhaps, or burnt offerings. The spiral stairs shrieked underfoot, each step a warning.
At the summit, the orb.
It pulsed with a sickly cerulean glow, its surface etched in sigils that squirmed when stared at too long.
Then—
"Welcome to time’s prison."
The voice slithered from the shadows. A figure emerged—gaunt, pallid, draped in a robe blacker than the space between stars.
And on his finger: the silver ring.
Lin Xiaoxia’s muscles coiled. "Who are you?"
The man’s lips peeled back, revealing teeth too sharp, too many. "The keeper of this cage." His gaze slid to Xu Yuan. "And the reaper of your borrowed hours."
A dry chuckle. "Your power woke too late, nephew. Now, the hourglass empties."
He raised his ringed hand.
The orb’s light flared—
And time screamed.9Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYMN3JM0Iry
