The Valley of Hourglasses lay within a narrow pass between two great mountain ranges. The place was strange. There was no wind. Dust hung in the air, drifting with unnatural slowness, as if gravity itself had grown lazy here.
Yan Kesh and He Qiu walked forward. The sound of their footsteps came with a delay.
Tap…
…one second later…
Sound.
"Sir, this place makes me nauseous," He Qiu complained, clutching his stomach. The mismatch between movement and sound threw off his sense of balance.
"Ignore your senses. Focus on the objective," Yan Kesh said as he continued forward.
At the end of the valley stood a peculiar structure. It was neither pagoda nor palace. It was a massive clock tower made of blackened brass. No hands marked its face—only a slowly turning void at its center.
There were no guards at the gate.
No defensive formations were active.
"They're not afraid of being attacked?" He Qiu asked in confusion.
"They already know we're coming," Yan Kesh replied.
The moment Yan Kesh stepped onto the courtyard, the brass gates creaked open with a shrill metallic groan.
Inside, thousands of enormous gears rotated along the ceiling, producing a rhythmic ticking sound—hypnotic and relentless.
At the center of the chamber stood someone.
Or something.
The figure wore a robe stitched together from thousands of parchment sheets. A half-mask covered the face. The left eye was human. The right eye was a rotating mechanical lens.
Archon Teshrael. Keeper of the Time Archives.
"You are three seconds late, Yan Kesh," Teshrael greeted him. The voice echoed as if coming from both past and future at once.
Yan Kesh bowed politely.
"My apologies. The roads were congested with… consequences."
Teshrael chuckled softly.
"A good joke. Vice Sect Master of Ashen Vein. Informant of the Sky Pavilion. And… the Ledger Keeper."
Yan Kesh narrowed his eyes.
This person knew about The Audit.
"Do not be surprised," Teshrael said, stepping closer, footsteps sounding like clockbeats. "We record time. And that 'ledger' in your head… creates ripples in the pool of time every time you alter someone's fate."
"You came for the Stasis Cage, didn't you?"
Yan Kesh straightened.
There was no point in small talk with someone who had already read the script.
"Yes. I wish to buy it, rent it, or borrow it."
"For what purpose?" Teshrael asked. The mechanical lens zoomed in on Yan Kesh's face.
"To freeze a disease. To halt the payment of a debt made of pain."
Teshrael slowly shook his head.
"You misunderstand time, Yan Kesh. Time is not a river that can be dammed. Time is a debt."
"Every second you freeze must be repaid in the future—with interest."
Teshrael turned and waved a hand.
A small glass box floated downward. Inside was a butterfly, utterly motionless. Its wings did not move. It had been trapped in perfect stasis for a hundred years.
"This is the Stasis Cage," Teshrael said. "I can give it to you."
"The price?" Yan Kesh asked cautiously.
"Not money. Not life."
Teshrael pointed at Yan Kesh's chest.
"I want your Future."