textbooks. It breathed. It reeked. It pulsed with

slipping on slick cobblestones. The fog was alive around them, swallowing streets as quic

ill gripping the pocket watch like it could

. "Right now, we put distance betwe

t cause

e watch. You a

eir upper stories sagging like tired shoulders. Somewhere nearby

cracked. "Wher

its secrets," Elias sa

of a black door be

NS - RARE BOOKS

ns" was c

a key shaped like an hou

every surface. Clocks ticked on every wall, each set to a different hour. Some ticked b

ed it onto a chair shaped like a r

ouched everythin

ttle that hissed like i

w my grandmother,

. Brilliant. Stubborn. A better

tightened. "She

kno

inked.

e the watch would find you. Told me wha

e stre

said. "Why didn't she ever

y don't apply to you," Elias said, pouring two cups. "She wante

ed around the teac

verything,

he weariness of a man who's explained the

s it bleeds. Every now and then, someone stumbles into the crease. Your

u?" she

hers like me. We're called Anchors. We try to prote

want to res

enough pain, power, or ambition. But r

e a drop of ink

r. And she's searching for the original timepieces-artifacts created when

ow showed faint, glowing glyphs. Circles

wants

. She'll *feel* it. Time does

dn't

pens if s

r future changes shape until it doesn't recogn

one.' I had a job interview. A life. A *plan*. You're talking a

wer. He pulled out a journal bound in d

s handwriting fi

Diagrams. Timelines.

sket

*El

s of

d softly. "But I know she loved you more than time

ooked u

o leave your time. You were her an

l. "Then why leave this for me?

top what's coming," he

wind howled.

e table began t

d the window, pee

ere," he

ho

ed. "Ar

-

Preview**: *Whispers

she should-a seamstress with a mirrored past and a silver needle that stitches time. But even as secrets