Introduction
Greyhaven is a quiet, fog-covered city where:
The sun rarely shines.
The clock tower stopped working 17 years ago.
People disappear… but no one talks about it.
And everyone pretends everything is normal.
Elara Voss a 22 years old girl
Curious. Observant. Doesn't trust easily.
Recently returned to Greyhaven after her mother's mysterious death.
She receives a letter the day she arrives:
"The truth is buried under the clock that never moves."
Greyhaven was exactly how Elara remembered it.
Silent.
Not peaceful silent — but watching silent.
Fog curled around the iron gates of the city like it had nowhere else to be. The streetlights flickered even though it wasn't dark yet. The air felt heavy, like it was holding its breath.
Elara Voss stepped off the bus with one suitcase and a secret she wasn't ready to face.
Seventeen years.
That's how long it had been since the children disappeared.
Three months.
That's how long since her mother died.
The bus doors hissed shut behind her, and just like that, she was alone.
Across the street stood the old clock tower.
Tall. Stone. Unmoving.
4:17.
The hands hadn't shifted in almost two decades.
They said it stopped the same night the five children vanished.
Elara didn't believe in coincidences.
She adjusted her coat and began walking.
Every step echoed too loudly.
Every window seemed to have eyes behind it.
No one waved.
No one smiled.
Greyhaven didn't welcome people back everybody mind their business
Her mother's house sat at the end of Marrow Lane.
Nothing had changed. The chipped paint. The crooked mailbox. The porch light that buzzed like it was trying to say something.
Elara unlocked the door.
Dust.
Stillness.
And the faint scent of her mother's perfume lingering in the walls.
She swallowed hard.
"I'm not here to grieve," she whispered to herself.
"I'm here to finish what you started."
That night, she found it.
Hidden beneath a loose floorboard in her mother's study.
A Dusty leather journal.
And inside it was a key.
Heavy. Cold and Rusted.
Attached to it was a small tag with two words written in ink that had almost faded:
Clock Tower.
Elara's heart began to race.
She flipped through the journal quickly.
Names of people she knows and the unknown
Dates. Of when they died
Maps of underground tunnels beneath the city.
And one sentence circled three times:
"They were never taken. They were hidden."
A sudden knock hit the front door.
Hard.
Elara froze.
Another knock.
Slower this time.
Deliberate.
No one knew she was back.
Her breathing grew shallow.
The knock came again.
And then—
A voice from the other side.
Low. Calm. Male.
"You shouldn't have come back, Elara."
Her blood turned cold.
She never told anyone she was coming home.
The porch light flickered violently.
And outside…
The clock tower chimed.
Even though it had never worked.
Not since 4:17.
End of Chapter One.