"What is time?"

The voice echoed in the dark, a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Elias stood in the void, feeling the weight of the question settle on his young shoulders. He was no more than seven, a frail child with wide eyes, clutching a small, worn-out pocket watch—his only possession. The watch was old, the kind with a cover that snapped shut and chain links that were worn thin from use. He had found it one day, half-buried in the dirt behind the orphanage. No one else had noticed it, but he had, and now it was his.

The darkness around him swirled, revealing glimpses of moments and memories, fleeting images of people and places, all slipping away as quickly as they appeared.

"Time," the voice continued, "is more than just the ticking of seconds or the turn of the hourglass. It is the thread that weaves the fabric of reality. It is both a river and a storm, carrying us forward while shaping everything in its path."

Elias tightened his grip on the pocket watch, its ticking somehow louder in the vast silence. He had always felt like time was different for him—slippery, elusive. It wasn't just that the days at the orphanage dragged on endlessly; it was that sometimes, just sometimes, the watch would skip a beat, or the sun would hang in the sky just a little too long.

"You," the voice whispered, "are a keeper of time. You are chosen."

The darkness around him faded, replaced by the dim light of early morning filtering through a small window. Elias blinked, the vision dissolving into the cold, harsh reality of the orphanage's dormitory. The voice was gone, leaving only the distant sound of children stirring from their sleep.

He sat up, heart pounding in his chest, his small fingers still clutching the watch. Chosen? A keeper of time? It had felt so real, so vivid. But as the remnants of sleep cleared from his mind, doubt crept in. It was just a dream, wasn't it? He shook his head, trying to shake off the lingering unease.

"Elias! Get up, boy!" The sharp voice of the caretaker, Mrs. Harrow, snapped him fully awake. She was a severe woman, tall and thin, with a permanent scowl etched into her features. "You'll be late for breakfast. And there's someone here to see you."

Elias's heart skipped a beat, the words echoing ominously in his mind. Someone to see him? That had never happened before. In the orphanage, he was just another nameless face, a child without a future, like all the others.

He dressed quickly, pulling on his threadbare clothes, and tucked the pocket watch carefully into his pocket. The other children were already filing out of the dormitory, their footsteps heavy with the monotony of their daily routine. But today felt different. There was a tension in the air, a sense of something about to change.

As Elias made his way down the narrow, creaking staircase, he couldn't help but wonder who could possibly be here to see him. Had someone finally decided to take him in? The thought filled him with both hope and dread. He had seen it happen before—children leaving the orphanage with strangers, never to be seen again. Sometimes they were taken to good homes, but other times...well, the rumors among the children were enough to keep him up at night.

At the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Harrow was waiting, her arms crossed, a stern expression on her face. "Hurry up, boy. Don't keep him waiting."

Elias swallowed hard and nodded, following her down the narrow hallway. His mind raced with possibilities, each more unlikely than the last. Who would want him? He was just another orphan, a nobody.

They stopped in front of a door Elias had never been through before. It was a small office, usually locked, where Mrs. Harrow would meet with the rare visitors who came to the orphanage. Today, however, the door was ajar, and Elias could see the flicker of firelight from inside.

Mrs. Harrow pushed the door open, ushering him in with a wave of her hand. Elias stepped inside, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was small and dimly lit, with a single, flickering oil lamp casting long shadows across the walls. Seated in a worn armchair by the fireplace was a man Elias had never seen before.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a thick mane of graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were sharp, a deep, penetrating blue that seemed to see right through Elias. The man's clothes were simple but well-made, a dark coat over a waistcoat, with a chain leading to a pocket watch of his own. He looked up as Elias entered, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"So, this is the boy," the man said, his voice deep and resonant. It wasn't a question. He spoke as if he had already decided everything he needed to know about Elias.

"Yes, Master Orin," Mrs. Harrow replied, her voice deferential. "This is Elias."

Master Orin. The name meant nothing to Elias, but the title "Master" sent a shiver down his spine. Who was this man?

Orin rose from his chair, moving with a deliberate, almost mechanical precision. He looked Elias up and down, his gaze lingering on the pocket where Elias had tucked the watch.

"You have something that doesn't belong to you," Orin said, his tone neutral but commanding.

Elias stiffened, his hand instinctively going to the pocket watch. He knew he should hand it over, but something deep inside him refused to let go. He had found it. It was his.

Orin raised an eyebrow, clearly not used to being defied. But instead of pressing the issue, he simply nodded. "Very well. Keep it, then. But know that such things come with responsibility."

Elias blinked, unsure how to respond. Orin turned to Mrs. Harrow, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

"I'll take him," Orin said, his voice final. "He'll be my apprentice."

Mrs. Harrow's eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself, nodding. "Of course, Master Orin. As you wish."

Elias's heart raced. Apprentice? To this man? He didn't understand. What could Orin possibly want with him? But before he could voice his confusion, Orin turned back to him, those piercing blue eyes locking onto his.

"Do you know what it means to be an apprentice, Elias?" Orin asked, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

Elias shook his head, too overwhelmed to speak.

"It means you will learn," Orin continued, "and in time, you will master the skills I teach you. You will become something more than you are now. Do you understand?"

Elias nodded slowly, though he wasn't sure he did. The idea of leaving the orphanage was both terrifying and exhilarating. But the way Orin spoke, as if this was his destiny, filled him with a strange sense of purpose.

Orin placed a firm hand on Elias's shoulder. "Good. Then come. There's much work to be done."

Elias cast one last glance at Mrs. Harrow, who gave him a brief, almost relieved smile, as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Then, without another word, he followed Orin out of the office, down the long, winding corridors of the orphanage, and into the cold, misty morning outside.

As they walked through the fog-shrouded streets, Orin spoke of the workshop where Elias would live and train, a place filled with clocks and gears, where time itself was both a tool and a mystery to be unraveled.

Elias listened, the watch ticking steadily in his pocket. He didn't know what the future held, but for the first time, he felt like he was stepping into a world where he could belong. A world where he was more than just another orphan.

And as the orphanage faded into the mist behind them, Elias knew that his life had just taken a turn that would change everything.

"Time," Orin murmured as they walked, "is a gift and a curse, Elias. And one day, you will learn to wield it."

Elias tightened his grip on the pocket watch, feeling the weight of the future settle into place. The journey had begun, and there was no turning back.