The sky blinked.
That was the first thing Kael noticed.
One moment, afternoon sunlight washed over the village of Asterfell. The next—
the light hesitated.
Not vanished.
Not darkened.
Just… paused.
Kael stopped mid-step.
"…Huh?"
The air felt wrong. Thick. Like the world had inhaled and forgotten how to breathe out.
Then—
DONG.
The bell rang.
Kael's blood turned to ice.
The tower bell hadn't rung since the Collapse. Everyone knew that. Everyone avoided the broken tower at the edge of the village. Old stone. Old deaths. Old stories whispered only after dark.
Yet the sound rolled across Asterfell—deep, ancient, final.
DONG.
People froze. Birds fell silent mid-flight. Even the wind stopped moving.
Kael clutched his chest as pain flared beneath his shirt.
The pendant.
His mother's pendant.
It burned.
"What… is this…?" he gasped.
Symbols—bright, unfamiliar—flashed across his vision. His knees buckled. He dropped to one hand, breath coming sharp and uneven.
DONG.
The ground cracked.
Not violently. Precisely.
Thin fractures raced across the stone road, glowing faintly with silver light. Villagers screamed. Some collapsed, clutching their heads as if memories were being torn out by force.
Kael felt it too.
A pressure behind his eyes.
A voice without sound.
You are late.
"No," Kael whispered. "No—no—"
The bell rang a fourth time.
4:30.
The world broke.
The sky twisted inward, spiraling like a massive eye opening above the bell tower. Time itself seemed to peel back. Kael felt weightless. Sound stretched. Colors smeared.
Then—
Silence.
Everything snapped back.
The sky was blue again.
The cracks were gone.
The villagers stood frozen, confused, murmuring nervously.
"Did… did something happen?"
"I felt dizzy…"
"Was that thunder?"
Kael couldn't hear them.
He was staring at the bell tower.
It was whole.
Not ruined. Not broken.
Rebuilt.
Clean stone. Polished bronze bells. And standing beneath it—
A man.
Tall. Still. Wrapped in a long black coat threaded with glowing silver lines that moved like flowing water. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but Kael felt his gaze lock onto him.
The man raised one finger.
The village vanished.
Kael fell.
Space folded in on itself, shattering into light and darkness. When the world reassembled, he stood on a floating platform made of crystal, suspended over an endless void.
Above him, massive clockwork gears turned in the sky, grinding against one another with thunderous force. Each rotation sent waves of light rippling through the air.
Dozens of floating doors surrounded the platform.
Some burned.
Some leaked shadow.
Some screamed.
Kael staggered back. "This… isn't real."
"It is," the hooded man said behind him. "More real than the village you call home."
Kael spun.
Up close, the man's presence was overwhelming. Ancient. Heavy. His voice echoed with layers—like many voices speaking as one.
"Who are you?" Kael demanded.
The man inclined his head.
"I am the Warden of the Hour."
Kael's chest tightened. "What hour?"
The Warden extended his hand. One of the doors creaked open.
Inside—
Fire.
A ruined city. Towers collapsing. Monsters screaming. And at the center—
Kael.
Older. Scarred. Eyes glowing white. His pendant shattered, power pouring from his body as the sky split open.
Kael stumbled back. "That's not me."
The Warden's voice was calm. Almost kind.
"That was you. On the sixth cycle."
"Cycle…?"
Another door opened.
Kael's breath caught.
His mother.
Alive.
Chained in glowing runes. Her eyes snapped to him.
"Kael!" she screamed. "Don't let it reach 4:30 again—!"
The door slammed shut.
Kael lunged forward, but invisible force hurled him back onto the crystal platform.
"LET HER GO!" he shouted.
The Warden looked down at him.
"She is not your reward," he said. "She is your anchor."
Kael's pendant cracked.
Light exploded.
Pain surged through his veins as symbols burned themselves across his arms. Power—raw and uncontrollable—flooded his body. The gears above shrieked, spinning faster.
The Warden took a step back.
"So," he murmured. "You're awakening earlier than expected."
Kael rose to his feet, eyes blazing white.
"What happens at 4:30?" he demanded.
The Warden smiled.
"At 4:30," he said softly,
"you decide whether time moves forward… or ends here."
The platform shattered.
Kael fell toward a final door, its surface glowing with crimson letters:
FINAL CYCLE — ATTEMPT SEVEN
And the bell rang again.