Tick... Tock... Tick... Tock...
The sound echoed—not from a watch, nor a clocktower—but from within his chest.
Kairen Azeil opened his eyes to a world wrapped in mist.
He lay on the cold stone floor of a grand, empty plaza. Above him, the sky was grey, trembling with unseen winds. The buildings surrounding him were tall, ancient—gothic towers with arched windows, silent and blind. At the plaza's center stood a massive clocktower, its dial going beyond twelve.
It ended at 13.
And the hands spun backward.
Kairen sat up slowly. No wounds. No pain. Just confusion—wrapped in silence. His clothes were dark—a deep brown waistcoat with silver buttons, a chain looping from his chest pocket, and boots too polished for a wanderer.
A sudden heaviness in his coat.
He reached into it and pulled out a rusted pocket watch, ticking in reverse. On its back, in strange engraving:
"Return me to the Thirteenth Hour."
When he opened it, the second hand twitched. Not ticked. Twitching like it resisted the will of God.
But something else fell from his pocket:
A folded scrap of paper, almost crumbled with age.
On it, faint ink:
"By Time,
Indeed, mankind is in loss…"
The paper was unsigned. But it stirred something deep in his chest — like he had once read it in a life he no longer remembered.
The air changed.
BONG!
The tower chimed.
Once...
Twice...
Thirteen times.
The thirteenth bell struck longer than all.
---
Kairen stood, slowly. A cold breeze swept across the square. The fog thinned just enough for him to see — a statue at the edge of the plaza. Marble. Hooded. No eyes.
As he approached, he noticed something unsettling.
The statue was sweating.
No... not sweat. The stone near its eyes was wet—as if it had cried.
Below it, carved in trembling strokes:
"Time remembers all. Even the sins you forget."
Another breeze.
And then—movement.
Across the plaza, just for a second, he saw himself. Same hair. Same coat. Same chain. But the version had blood on his hands and eyes glowing faintly like gold.
He blinked. Gone.
No footsteps.
Kairen's breath calmed unnaturally fast. His mind, though shaken, was clear. Almost... trained.
Then, a letter dropped at his feet. From nowhere.
The seal was a gear with an eye in its center.
He opened it:
"To the One Who Forgot to Die,
You are invited to the Watchmaker's Cult."
"Location: Between Tick and Tock Street."
"Come before your time runs out."
As he read it, the rusted watch in his palm tick-tick-TICKED suddenly.
And whispered something.
A voice? Or memory?
"Every soul shall taste death."
The sound didn't come from the watch—but from within him.
He looked up.
A distant alley clock struck again. Thirteen.
Suddenly, from the corner of the mist — footsteps.
Fast. Approaching. Many.
But no voices.
The mist began folding in on the plaza, like it was alive. Swallowing buildings, swallowing escape.
Kairen turned back to the statue.
And whispered softly:
"HasbunAllahu wa ni'mal wakeel."
(Allah is sufficient for me, and the best disposer of affairs.)
And then he ran.
---
🕰️ To Be Continued...
→ Chapter 2: The Eyeless Statue will introduce "Al-Nur" and the first piece of the Kitab al-Zaman.