The ticking in Astra's chest had softened, but it was far from gone. It echoed faintly as they trudged through the narrow alleys of the Rusted City, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the cracked cobblestones. Their mind raced with fragments of the strange encounter—the shadowy figure, the frozen clock tower, the cryptic words: "You are the key."
The faint smell of oil and rust brought them back to reality. They clutched their satchel tightly, its broken contents pressing against their side. If the marketplace had felt overwhelming, this part of the city was the opposite: quiet, abandoned, and unsettling. Astra had never ventured this far from the bustling lower district, and now they wished they hadn't.
A voice broke the silence.
"Over here."
Astra froze, their breath catching in their throat. The voice was low, calm, and undeniably close. They turned, scanning the alleyway, but saw no one. Then, a faint movement caught their eye—a shadow slipping between two rusted pipes that jutted from the wall.
"Who's there?" Astra called out, their voice trembling.
The shadow moved again, and this time, a figure stepped into the light. He was a tall, wiry man, his face partially hidden beneath a tattered hood. His hands were stained with grease, and a series of small tools hung from a belt slung around his waist. He looked at Astra with sharp, calculating eyes, as if trying to unravel a puzzle.
"You're ticking louder than the Bellspire," he said, tilting his head. "And judging by the way you're standing, I'd say the malfunction isn't recent."
"What are you talking about?" Astra demanded, taking a step back.
The man smirked and gestured for them to follow. "Come with me. It's not safe to talk here."
Astra hesitated. Every instinct screamed at them to run, but curiosity won out. Something about the man's words—about the way he looked at them, not with fear but with understanding—struck a chord. Clutching their satchel, they followed him through a twisting maze of pipes and scaffolding until they reached an old, rusted door.
The man pushed it open, revealing a cavernous workshop. The air was thick with the smell of oil and ozone, and every surface was cluttered with tools, half-finished inventions, and glowing Aetherium shards. Gears of all sizes hung from the walls, and a massive clock face leaned against the far corner, its hands frozen at midnight.
"Welcome to the Glasswork Sanctum," the man said, pulling off his hood. His face was weathered but not unkind, his dark hair streaked with gray. "Name's Korin Locke. I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but under the circumstances, I doubt you're feeling the same."
Astra stepped cautiously into the room, their eyes darting from one strange device to another. "What is this place?"
Korin shrugged, picking up a wrench and fiddling with a small contraption on the workbench. "It's where I tinker, hide, and occasionally save the city from tearing itself apart. But enough about me. Let's talk about you."
He set the wrench down and turned to Astra, his expression suddenly serious. "How long have you been ticking?"
Astra's heart pounded—or at least, they thought it did. The sound was hard to distinguish now, blending with the faint hum of the workshop. "I've… always heard it. Since I was a kid. I thought it was normal."
"It's not," Korin said bluntly. He grabbed a piece of chalk and began sketching on a slate board mounted to the wall. "That sound you hear? That's not your heart. It's a Clockwork Core."
"A what?" Astra took a step back, their voice rising. "I'm human. I have a heart, not… not whatever that is."
Korin held up a hand to stop them. "I'm not saying you're not human. But your heart isn't. It's a piece of engineering—a masterpiece, really. And judging by the fact that you're standing here instead of rusting away, it's still functioning. Barely."
Astra shook their head, the words refusing to sink in. "That's impossible. How would I not know?"
"Because no one wanted you to," Korin replied, his tone grim. "The Clockmaker—the one who designed the Core—was a genius, but his creations weren't meant to be discovered. Not by you, not by anyone. And now, it's malfunctioning."
The room felt too small, the air too heavy. Astra gripped the edge of the workbench, trying to steady themselves. "Why would someone… put this in me? Why would they do this?"
Korin hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. "That's a question only the Clockmaker can answer. But if the Core's malfunctioning, we don't have time to wait for answers. The ticking isn't just a quirk—it's a signal. And if it's getting louder…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear.
"Signal for what?" Astra asked, their voice barely above a whisper.
Korin sighed and walked to a nearby cabinet, pulling out a small device that looked like a combination of a compass and a pocket watch. He handed it to Astra. "That's what we need to figure out. But one thing's certain: whatever's coming, it's tied to you."
The device hummed faintly in Astra's hand, its needle spinning erratically before pointing straight ahead.
"To what?" Astra asked.
Korin's eyes were dark, his expression unreadable. "To the truth. And if we're lucky, to a way to stop this city from falling apart."