Luke stared down at the wooden box, its intricate carvings practically taunting him as if they knew the clock was ticking—metaphorically, of course, but the tension in the room made it feel real enough. He could feel King Eroan's gaze on him, sharp and calculating. It wasn't the kind of scrutiny Luke liked; it was the kind that made him itch as if his very existence was being dissected.
He touched the box, brushing his fingers lightly over the grooves. The sunburst design, the twelve-point pattern, and those mocking little dials… It would have been so easy just to pull out his phone, punch in the "ancient clock puzzle," and wait for Doogle—or whatever knockoff app worked offline—to spit out a solution.
His phone. The thought gave him pause.
