The Rusted City stretched out beneath the pale light of the moon, its towers and pipes casting jagged shadows across the streets. Astra followed Korin through the maze of alleys, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. The events in the Sanctum played on a loop in their mind—the glowing light from their hands, the Enforcer's relentless attack, and Korin's ominous warning about their Core.
"What did you mean when you said my Core is waking up?" Astra finally asked, their voice cutting through the quiet. "Why now? It's been ticking my whole life."
Korin didn't look back. His pace was brisk, his movements tense. "The Core isn't just a machine, Astra. It's more than gears and magic—it's alive, in a way. Think of it like… a clock wound too tightly. For years, it's been holding itself together, running smoothly. But now something's changed. The ticking is growing louder because it's responding to something."
"Responding to what?" Astra pressed, frustration creeping into their voice.
Korin stopped abruptly and turned to face them, his sharp features illuminated by a flickering streetlamp. "That's what we're trying to find out. But I have a feeling it's tied to the Clockmaker."
"The Clockmaker," Astra repeated, narrowing their eyes. "You keep saying that name like it explains everything. Who was he?"
Korin hesitated, his gaze drifting to the horizon where the Bellspire Clock Tower loomed. "The Clockmaker was a genius, the kind of person who comes along once in a lifetime. He created machines that could think, devices that could harness magic in ways no one had ever dreamed of. But his ambition outgrew his caution. The Enforcers, your Core—they're all part of his legacy. And when his experiments started going wrong, he disappeared."
"Disappeared?" Astra frowned. "How does someone like that just vanish?"
"No one knows," Korin admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "Some say he went mad, others that he destroyed himself to protect the city from his creations. But one thing is certain: the Council of Tides doesn't want anyone digging into his past. They've buried every trace of his work, erased every record."
Astra crossed their arms, their frustration bubbling over. "Then how do you know all this?"
Korin met their gaze, his expression unflinching. "Because I was his apprentice."
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Astra stared at him, their mind racing to process the revelation. "You… worked with him?"
"For a time," Korin said, his tone quieter now. "I saw firsthand what he was trying to build. I believed in his vision—until I realized the cost. That's why I left. But the Core… your Core… it was supposed to be his masterpiece. The culmination of everything he'd ever learned."
"Why me?" Astra demanded. "Why would he put this thing in me?"
"I don't know," Korin admitted. "But the fact that it's waking up now means something's coming. And we need to be ready."
---
They reached the edge of the city, where the cobblestones gave way to overgrown grass and rusting machinery half-buried in the earth. Ahead, the silhouette of a dense forest loomed, its twisted trees bathed in silver light.
"This is the Forgotten Forest," Korin said, his voice low. "It's where the Clockmaker conducted his earliest experiments. If there are answers anywhere, they'll be here."
Astra hesitated at the edge of the forest, their unease growing with each step. The air was heavy, charged with an odd energy that prickled at their skin. The ticking in their chest grew faster, echoing faintly in the stillness.
As they ventured deeper, the forest seemed to close in around them. Twisted roots jutted from the ground, and faint glimmers of light danced in the shadows. Astra caught glimpses of strange shapes—abandoned machines, half-buried in the undergrowth. Gears hung from the trees like strange, rusted fruit, and the faint hum of Aetherium whispered through the air.
"This place is…" Astra trailed off, struggling to find the words.
"Haunted," Korin finished, his voice tinged with bitterness. "By the Clockmaker's failures. These machines were his prototypes—test runs for his creations. Most of them were abandoned when they didn't work as expected."
Astra stopped beside a hulking metal frame that resembled a twisted, mechanical bird. Its wings were shattered, its body covered in vines. They reached out to touch it, but Korin grabbed their arm.
"Careful," he warned. "Even dormant machines can be dangerous."
They pressed on, the forest growing darker with each step. Finally, they came to a clearing where a crumbling stone structure stood. The building was small, barely more than a ruin, but its walls were covered in intricate carvings of gears and stars.
"This was his workshop," Korin said, stepping inside. "The place where it all began."
Astra followed, their breath catching as they took in the room. The walls were lined with shelves overflowing with old tools, scraps of paper, and faded blueprints. A massive workbench dominated the center of the room, its surface littered with half-finished devices.
Korin sifted through the papers, pulling out a weathered journal. He opened it, flipping through the pages with practiced ease. "Here. This is his handwriting."
Astra leaned over his shoulder, their eyes scanning the cramped, spidery script. The words were difficult to read, but one phrase stood out: "The key to time lies in the heart of the one who endures."
"What does that mean?" Astra asked, their voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Korin admitted. "But it's not just a metaphor. He was working on something big—something tied to the flow of time itself."
Before Astra could respond, a low rumble shook the ground beneath their feet. The walls of the workshop groaned, and dust rained down from the ceiling.
"Time to go," Korin said, shoving the journal into his bag. "Whatever's out there, it's not friendly."
Astra nodded, their heart racing as the ticking in their chest grew louder. They followed Korin out of the workshop, the sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches closing in around them.
The forest wasn't haunted. It was alive. And it was waking up.