Chapter Three — Fractures
Mara wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or crawl under her bed and pretend the world wasn't unravelling like a cheap sweater. But Jonah's unflinching stare told her none of those were options.
Instead, she shoved the Chronometer into her pocket like it was radioactive. Which, given the way it hummed against her thigh, wasn't entirely out of the question.
Jonah bent to pick up his staff, his movements deliberate, almost ritualistic. "We can't stay here," he said again.
Mara threw up her hands. "Yeah, no kidding. Ten out of ten Yelp review for this alley: creepy shadows, suspicious humming walls, and a giant cosmic eyeball as the neighbourhood watch."
He ignored the sarcasm. Typical.
They stepped back onto the street. The crowd had scattered, leaving abandoned purses, overturned coffee cups, even a lone shoe lying in the gutter. Above them, the crack still stretched across the sky—thin but pulsing, like a wound refusing to close. The eye had vanished, but Mara felt it watching anyway, just beyond the veil.
Jonah walked with purpose, weaving through the debris. Mara jogged to keep up. "So, level with me. What just happened? What was that… time-freeze thing?"
"You used the Chronometer."
"Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious. But how? It's not like I've been taking night classes in temporal wizardry."
Jonah hesitated. "It responds to bloodlines."
"Excuse me?"
He shot her a sidelong glance. "Not everyone can activate it. You can. Which means…" His voice trailed off.
"Which means what? That my great-great-grandpa was Doctor Who?"
Jonah didn't answer.
That was almost worse than him saying something ridiculous.
They turned a corner into a quieter street. Mara shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, fingers brushing the watch again. The hum seemed stronger now, like it recognized her touch.
She stopped walking. "No. Nope. I'm not doing this. I didn't sign up for—whatever this is. Monsters made of shadow goo, chosen-one nonsense, cosmic eyeballs—hard pass."
Jonah faced her, his expression hard. "You don't have a choice."
"Funny, I keep hearing that, but last I checked, free will is still a thing."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If you walk away now, the world breaks. Time fractures. That crack in the sky? It will tear everything apart. And you'll be at the centre when it happens, whether you want it or not."
Mara opened her mouth to argue—but the words stuck. Because deep down, beneath all the sarcasm and disbelief, she knew he was right.
The crack hadn't just appeared. It had opened—and somehow, impossibly, it had opened for her.
She shivered.
A sudden vibration buzzed through the pavement, rattling storefront windows. Jonah's head snapped toward the source.
Down the street, the asphalt split with a jagged line. The crack spread like lightning across the ground, glowing faintly. From it seeped more of those shadows—smaller this time, but quicker. They scuttled along the street like living ink.
Jonah raised his staff, eyes sharp. "They've found us."
Mara groaned. "Of course they have. Because why let me process one life-altering revelation without sending more nightmare fuel to chase me?"
She yanked the Chronometer from her pocket, thumb brushing the latch. Her pulse quickened, syncing to its tick.
Jonah's voice cut through the chaos. "Don't use it yet. Too much strain, and it could shatter you."
"Shatter me?!"
"Just run!"
So she ran. Again.
Because apparently, that was her new full-time job.