d always bee
e awe one reserves for monsters and miracles. Her grandmother used to say the attic was "where the
weight. Above, the air hung thick with mothballs and memory. Moonlight spilled throug
hadn't managed it at the service. Not when the pastor spoke, not when her fat
been the one who
ing horse and a trunk that smelled of camphor and time. It wasn't la
open
ass casing engraved with stars. A compass rose etched into the back. When she pick
letter. Cream paper
ten in curlin
oke th
ns are the only things that matter in time. This isn't a trinket. It's a key. And it only opens when the world forgets what it on
all my
Gra
rds until they blurred
ll, Gran," s
e watch
n radiant veins. The attic trembled beneath her. A wind roared to life from nowhere, swirling
hen-s
e world folded in on itself, and her body fell i
e street w
alms scraped cold stone. She blink
ges. Fog thick as soup curli
longer in
even in her
clinging to her skin were all wrong-tight jeans, a hoodie, a tech watch blinking futilely. No one here wo
I?" she
ootsteps.
rner. Dirty, eyes sunk
the taller one, "
s lost," said th
ed away, p
quickly, "I don
e grinned. "That's the t
adv
oice cut thr
't recomm
Coat flaring behind him. A silver-han
sneered. "And who the hel
smiled-shar
interr
tall one's knee with a sickening snap. The other swung-and missed. A swift
ger turne
" he
dn't move.
. Eyes-ice blue, unsettli
said softly. "That watch do
t instinctively
od. Historian. Time doesn't like when
breathless,
g his hand. "Before the Wardens
hesi
were calluse
if she took his hand, her life
ook it