Smoke still lingered in the morning air, curling between the rooftops like ghostly fingers. Ashmere, usually a town of calm predictability, now pulsed with unease. People whispered in hushed voices, their faces pale, their movements hurried. The fire had consumed half of the market square before the townsfolk managed to put it out. No lives were lost, but the damage was undeniable.

Elias stood at the edge of the scorched remains, his hands clenched into fists.

He had seen this.

Not moments before. Not minutes before. Days before.

The whispers around him grew louder.

“How could it have happened so fast?”

“There wasn’t even a storm last night.”

“The fire seemed… unnatural.”

Elias’s breath came shallow. His thoughts tangled. The vision had been true. But how? How had he seen something before it happened? His stomach churned with unease, and for the first time, a terrifying thought crept into his mind.

Had he caused it?

He turned away, unable to stomach the sight of the destruction any longer. His feet carried him through the winding streets, past familiar faces who barely noticed him, their attention stolen by the smoldering ruins. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening to him.

And then he saw the shop.

Nestled between two taller buildings, it looked as though it had been there forever—yet Elias was certain he had never noticed it before. The wooden sign above the door was worn, its lettering faded but still legible.

Hollis & Co. – Watchmakers Since 1861

Something about it made his breath hitch. The name echoed in his mind like a whisper from a forgotten memory. His fingers brushed against the pocket of his coat, where a familiar weight pressed against his palm.

The pocket watch.

He didn't remember bringing it with him. He hadn't touched it in years. And yet, there it was, cool against his skin.

Elias hesitated, then pushed open the door.

A soft chime rang out. The scent of polished wood and aged brass filled the air. Inside, the walls were lined with clocks of all shapes and sizes, their ticking creating an eerie, rhythmic hum.

Behind the counter stood a man.

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He was neither old nor young, his face lined but not with age—rather, with experience. His silver hair was combed neatly back, and round glasses perched on his nose, reflecting the golden glow of the lamps. His fingers, long and deft, held a delicate pocket watch, which he was winding with slow, deliberate precision.

He looked up.

And smiled.

“I was wondering when you would come.”

Elias froze.

The man gestured to the counter. “Come closer, boy. Let me see it.”

Elias's pulse pounded in his ears. “See what?”

The watchmaker lifted his eyebrows knowingly. Elias swallowed and reached into his pocket, pulling out the watch. The moment it touched the wooden counter, something shifted in the air. The ticking of the clocks around him seemed to sync, as though every second was suddenly aligned.

The watchmaker exhaled. “Ah. So, it has found you after all.”

Elias felt cold. “What do you mean?”

The man turned the watch over, running his fingers over the metal casing. “This isn’t just a timepiece,” he said softly. “It is a key.”

“A key to what?”

The watchmaker looked up, his eyes unreadable. “Time.”

Elias’s breath hitched. He wanted to laugh. It sounded ridiculous. And yet, after last night, after the fire, after everything, he couldn’t deny the way his body knew the truth before his mind could accept it.

The watchmaker continued, his voice calm, measured. “You see before things happen, don’t you?”

Elias swallowed hard. “How do you—?”

“Because time is not a straight path,” the man interrupted. “It’s a river. And you, my boy, are standing in its current instead of simply drifting along.”

Elias clenched his fists. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.” The watchmaker turned the watch over again, tapping a small engraving on the back. It was a strange symbol—intricate, woven lines that seemed to shift as Elias looked at them. It was familiar, though he couldn’t remember why.

“This,” the watchmaker murmured, “is the mark of those who step outside of time.”

Elias’s stomach twisted. “What does that mean?”

The watchmaker set the timepiece down and folded his hands. “It means you are no ordinary boy. You are a Seer.”

The word sent a shiver through Elias’s bones.

“A Seer?”

The watchmaker nodded. “One who can perceive time differently. Not as a fixed road, but as something… fluid. Changeable.” He held Elias’s gaze. “The visions you see—they are not predictions. They are possibilities.”

Elias’s breath caught. “Possibilities?”

“Yes. Some things are meant to happen, but others… others can be changed.”

A cold realization settled over him. “So, the fire—”

The watchmaker’s face darkened. “It was never meant to happen. But it did. Because you saw it.”

Elias felt sick. “Are you saying I caused it?”

“No.” The man’s voice was firm. “But you must understand, boy. The more you look ahead, the more time looks back at you.”

Elias shuddered. He thought of the whispers in the night. The shadow beneath the bookstore sign. The unseen presence pressing against his skin.

Had time been looking back at him?

The watchmaker leaned forward. “You must be careful.”

Elias’s fingers dug into the wooden counter. “Careful of what?”

A pause. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, the watchmaker said:

“There are things in time that do not like to be seen.”

A chill ran down Elias’s spine. “What… kind of things?”

The watchmaker hesitated, as if weighing his words. “There are forces at play beyond what you or I can fully understand. Patterns that should not be disrupted. If you continue down this path, if you keep seeing what is not meant to be seen—” He exhaled, his eyes dark with warning.

“—something will see you back.”

Elias’s pulse pounded in his ears. The lanterns flickered. The ticking of the clocks grew louder. He felt the weight of the watch in his palm, its surface unnaturally cold.

He had thought his visions were a gift.

But now, for the first time, he wondered if they were a curse.