The sky over Ashmere was a deep, bruised shade of blue, neither day nor night, as if time itself had hesitated. The town, still reeling from the fire, had settled into an uneasy silence. Smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of damp earth as the first drops of rain kissed the scorched remains of the marketplace.

Elias walked through the streets, his hands tucked into his pockets, the weight of the pocket watch pressing against his palm. Every step felt heavier than the last, as if he were walking deeper into something unseen, something waiting just beyond the veil of reality.

His mind replayed the watchmaker’s words.

"The more you look ahead, the more time looks back at you."

And yet, despite the warning, he couldn’t stop himself.

The visions were coming more frequently now. Not just in his dreams, but in flashes—fragments of futures that hadn’t happened yet. A woman dropping her grocery basket before it happened. A gust of wind shaking a lantern before it flickered out. A street corner where two men would collide seconds before they even turned.

At first, they were subtle, almost harmless. But something had changed since the fire.

Now, they were wrong.

They flickered, shifting, as if something was fighting against what he saw. People appeared where they shouldn't. Objects moved differently than his visions predicted. And worst of all—the shadow returned.

It wasn’t just watching anymore.

It was closer.

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Elias stood in front of the bookstore, its warm light spilling onto the cobbled street. The rain had stopped, leaving the air damp and thick. He hesitated before stepping inside, scanning the shelves absentmindedly, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

The watchmaker had said the watch was a key.

But a key to what?

His fingers traced the engraved symbol on its back, its lines twisting in ways that made his eyes ache if he stared too long. It wasn’t just a design. It meant something.

"You're looking for something, aren't you?"

Elias flinched.

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The voice was old, raspy—belonging to Mr. Alder, the bookstore’s owner. He had always been there, an unspoken part of Ashmere, his presence as permanent as the books that lined the walls. He stepped forward now, his eyes sharp beneath his thick glasses.

Elias swallowed. "Just… thinking."

Mr. Alder’s gaze dropped to the pocket watch in Elias’s hands. "That’s a dangerous thing to carry."

Elias stiffened. "You… you know about it?"

A pause.

Then, a small, knowing smile.

"More than most," Mr. Alder murmured.

He turned, walking toward the back of the shop, and Elias hesitated only a moment before following. They moved past the shelves, deeper into the dimly lit corners of the store, where dust danced in the golden glow of oil lamps. At the very back, hidden behind stacks of forgotten books, was a glass display case.

Inside, resting on a dark velvet cloth, was another watch.

But this one was broken.

Its glass face was cracked, its hands frozen at a time that didn’t exist—twenty-six minutes past thirteen.

Elias frowned. "That’s not possible."

Mr. Alder gave a low chuckle. "Most things aren’t, until they are."

Elias's eyes didn’t leave the watch. It was different from his own, yet… familiar. The engraving on its back was almost identical to his, but there was a jagged fracture running through the design.

"This watch belonged to someone like you," Mr. Alder said. "A Seer."

Elias’s breath caught. "What happened to them?"

Mr. Alder exhaled. "They saw too much."

Silence stretched between them. The ticking of the clocks in the store seemed louder now, syncing into an almost rhythmic pulse.

Elias tore his gaze from the broken watch. "Mr. Alder… what happens if I change something? If I stop something I see from happening?"

Mr. Alder’s expression darkened. "That depends."

"On what?"

"On who’s watching."

A shiver crawled up Elias’s spine.

Before he could ask what that meant, the bell above the shop door chimed.

And just like that, Mr. Alder’s entire demeanor changed. He straightened, his expression unreadable, and without another word, he turned and walked back toward the front of the store.

Elias followed, but as he stepped into the main shop area, he froze.

A man stood at the entrance, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the floor. His clothes were old-fashioned, his coat dusted with rain, but it was his face that made Elias's stomach tighten.

Because he had seen it before.

In a vision.

The man had been standing beneath the clock tower, watching as the fire spread.

Elias’s fingers curled around the pocket watch.

The man’s eyes met his, and for a second—just a brief, flickering second—Elias thought he saw something move behind them. A shadow, twisting, writhing.

Then, the man smiled.

A slow, knowing smile.

And time stuttered.

The bookstore lights flickered. The ticking of the clocks skipped, as if reality itself had missed a beat. Elias felt it in his bones, like something shifting beneath his feet.

Then—just as suddenly—it was normal again.

The man tipped his hat. “Evening.”

Mr. Alder’s voice was steady. "Can I help you?"

The man’s gaze didn’t leave Elias. Didn’t blink.

“I believe,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, “I’m looking for something that was never meant to be found.”

Elias’s grip on the pocket watch tightened.

Because somehow, he knew—

The man wasn’t talking about a book.

He was talking about him