The Timekeeper sanctuary held an otherworldly stillness, an almost sacred silence that seemed to amplify every whisper of clockwork, every breath Sam took. After his commitment to stay, he was led to a small chamber at the back of the sanctuary, its walls lined with books, tools, and maps Sam couldn't begin to decipher. Harrow and the woman—who still hadn't revealed her name—stood before him, each assessing him with their own brand of intensity.
Harrow spoke first. "Today, we begin your training. But this isn't about strength or power, Sam. If you misuse time's gifts, it will consume you. The clock you carry isn't a toy; it's a force that can reshape reality. And whether it chooses to work with you or against you depends on how wisely you wield it."
Sam nodded, his nerves tightly coiled. He'd felt the cost already—each time he'd turned the clock, there was a toll he couldn't quite name, an almost imperceptible drain. Now he understood it wasn't just in his imagination.
"Do you feel its weight?" Harrow continued, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Each turn leaves a mark, no matter how small. It's why most Timekeepers cannot reverse events. Only a few have that power—those deemed 'chosen' by time itself."
Sam shifted, feeling the weight of his pocket watch once again. "But why me? Why would… time choose me?"
The woman stepped forward, her gaze gentler than Harrow's. "Sometimes, it's not about why. Time isn't a conscious entity like we are, Sam. It's vast, complex, and ancient. But every once in a while, it gravitates toward someone, someone it sees as part of its own purpose. Maybe you're not here by accident. Maybe you're meant to be."
The words left him with more questions than answers, but he nodded, feeling the unease slowly shift to determination. "What do I need to do?"
Harrow extended a hand, gesturing to the center of the room where an old, tarnished pocket watch rested on a stand. It was a different clock from his own, simpler, but its ticking held a strange rhythm, slower and almost hypnotic.
"This is your first lesson," Harrow said. "I want you to synchronize your clock with this one. But not by adjusting the hands. I want you to feel the rhythm of the sanctuary, to sense the pulse of time here. Close your eyes, let go of everything else, and listen."
Sam hesitated, then closed his eyes, feeling the cool metal of his own clock in his hand. He steadied his breathing, allowing his senses to stretch outward, feeling the space around him. Gradually, he tuned in to the faint ticking of the sanctuary's clock, the slight hum that filled the room. Slowly, he began to sense a pattern, a gentle heartbeat beneath the layers of sound.
"Feel the difference," Harrow's voice murmured from somewhere beside him. "Each place has its own rhythm, just as each person does. To work with time, you must learn to attune yourself to its unique patterns."
Sam let the rhythm sink into him, feeling the steady ticking become part of his own heartbeat. It was a strange sensation, as if he were reaching out into something vast and endless, yet bound by the limits of the room.
"Now, open your eyes," Harrow instructed.
Sam obeyed and looked down at his watch, surprised to find the hands had shifted ever so slightly, aligning almost perfectly with the sanctuary's clock. He hadn't touched them—hadn't even moved his fingers. Yet somehow, by attuning himself, he'd allowed his clock to synchronize naturally.
Harrow gave him a nod of approval. "Good. That's the first step—to let time guide you, rather than trying to force it to your will."
Sam's gaze lingered on his watch, a hint of awe in his expression. He hadn't expected the experience to be so… organic. "So, this is what it means to control time?"
"This is only the beginning," the woman said, her voice soft yet firm. "But control is not the goal here. Alignment, harmony—that's what keeps you from breaking it, from losing yourself to it."
Harrow led him back into the main hall, where another Timekeeper waited, an elderly man with a deeply lined face and keen, watchful eyes. Harrow nodded in greeting.
"This is Elias," he introduced. "He'll teach you the second lesson."
Elias nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze sharp yet patient. "Each turn of the clock affects more than just you, Sam. It's like pulling a thread that's connected to every other thread in a web. The effects ripple outward, sometimes subtly, sometimes drastically."
He motioned to a nearby table where several hourglasses of different sizes sat, their sands flowing steadily. "Your task is to shift the sand's flow in one of these without touching it. But be careful—not all changes are reversible."
Sam looked at the hourglasses, the task seeming simple enough, but he sensed a deeper challenge. He took a breath, holding his watch tightly, and focused on the smallest hourglass. He concentrated, trying to will the sand to slow down. At first, nothing happened. But gradually, he began to feel the connection—the same faint rhythm he'd sensed before, like a current running through his clock and into the hourglass.
With a small surge of focus, he willed the sand to pause. The grains slowed, halting mid-flow, suspended in the glass.
"Good," Elias said, nodding approvingly. "Now, return it to its normal flow."
Sam frowned, feeling a strain as he tried to undo his effect. The sand resisted him, the grains held in suspension, as if the flow itself were reluctant to resume. A thin bead of sweat formed on his brow as he pushed harder, willing the sands to move. After a tense moment, the flow resumed, the grains trickling down as they had before.
Elias let out a satisfied hum. "Impressive. Most newcomers struggle with this. Reversing changes is always harder; time resists attempts to undo what has already begun. Remember that."
Sam felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over him, realizing how much energy he'd expended in just that small task. He glanced at his watch, feeling its weight more heavily than before. This wasn't just a tool; it was a conduit for forces that went beyond his understanding.
Harrow stepped forward, his face solemn. "You're making progress, Sam, but this is only the surface. The more you interact with time, the more it will demand from you. It takes, even as it gives."
The woman placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, her eyes filled with a quiet sympathy. "That's why we're here—to guide you, to help you find balance. You're strong, Sam, but strength alone won't be enough. You'll need discipline and restraint."
Sam nodded, feeling the weight of their words sink in. His excitement had tempered, leaving a more grounded understanding of the responsibility he'd taken on. He had started this journey thinking he was simply gaining a way to fix his mistakes, to make his life better. Now he realized he was bound to something far larger—a duty that connected him to forces beyond his control.
As he left the sanctuary that evening, Sam felt the air around him hum with a new awareness. The world felt different, sharper, each moment carrying a weight he hadn't noticed before. He walked back through the dim city streets, his thoughts heavy with the lessons he'd learned, his gaze lingering on the clock in his hand.
With each step, he knew he was drawing closer to a threshold he could never cross back. This power wasn't a gift—it was a trial, a measure of his resolve and character. And as the night deepened around him, he felt the pull of destiny stronger than ever, guiding him forward into the shadows where secrets waited, and mysteries began to unravel.
The next lesson loomed ahead, and though fear still pricked at him, he understood that there was no turning back. Not now.