Chapter 7: Evangeline

The heavy oak door shut behind them with a thud, muffling the chaos of the Great Market. Logan stumbled into Evangeline’s shop, his senses reeling from the abrupt transition. One moment, he was in the familiar streets of Charleston; the next, he’d been dropped into what looked like Jules Verne’s fever dream.

As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, Logan found himself in a space that seemed to thumb its nose at the laws of physics. Shelves stretched improbably high, laden with leather-bound tomes and artifacts that defied categorization. A stuffed griffin with clockwork wings perched atop a stack of yellowed scrolls, its glass eyes unnervingly attentive.

In one corner, a gramophone played a melody that sounded like it had taken a wrong turn at Mozart and ended up in the Twilight Zone. The air was thick with the scent of old books, exotic spices, and something metallic that made Logan’s nose twitch.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Evangeline’s warm voice cut through Logan’s stupor. She emerged from behind a beaded curtain, her eyes twinkling with amusement at their bewildered expressions.

Logan cleared his throat, finding his voice. “Humble? Ma’am, if this is humble, I’d hate to see what you call fancy.”

Evangeline chuckled. “Oh, you two look like you could use a cup of tea. Come, sit. I promise the chairs don’t bite… usually."

She gestured to a pair of worn armchairs tucked between towering bookshelves. Logan sank into one gingerly, while Roscoe hopped onto the other with surprising grace for a dog who’d just had his world turned upside down.

“I’ll be right back with the tea,” Evangeline said, disappearing once more behind the curtain. “Try not to touch anything. Some of the artifacts are a bit… temperamental.”

As her footsteps faded, Logan turned to Roscoe, his expression a mix of disbelief and resignation. “Well, boy,” he said, his voice slightly strained, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

Roscoe, in a voice that would have made Shakespeare proud, replied, “I dare say, old chap, that’s rather an understatement. Though I must admit, the literary selection here appears most intriguing.”

Logan blinked, then let out a short, slightly hysterical laugh. “Great. I’m stuck in Clockwork Narnia, and my dog’s turned into Benedict Cumberbatch. What’s next? The teapot going to start singing show tunes?”

As Evangeline returned, balancing a tray with an eclectic assortment of mismatched cups and a teapot that seemed to be humming softly, Logan cleared his throat. "Evangeline," he began, his voice tight with barely contained anxiety, "I hate to be that guy, but... are we safe here? In your shop, I mean, and in this area?"

Evangeline set the tray down, her expression a mix of amusement and understanding. "Safe?" she echoed, as if the concept was both familiar and foreign. "Well, that depends on what you mean by safe. Here, in my shop? Absolutely. Out there?" She gestured vaguely towards the door. "It's as safe as anywhere, I suppose."

She poured a liquid that shimmered like liquid starlight into the cups. "The Market's lively, sure. You might encounter a pickpocket or two, maybe a rogue probability storm, but nothing too out of the ordinary."

Logan and Roscoe exchanged bewildered glances at the casual mention of 'probability storms'.

"As for my shop," Evangeline continued, her eyes twinkling mischievously, "let's just say it has certain... safeguards. Knowledge is valuable here, and I've collected quite a bit over the years. There are few who would risk crossing me."

She handed Logan a cup that felt warm and somehow alive in his hands. "Drink up. It'll help settle your nerves."

Logan took a cautious sip, surprised by the complex flavors that danced across his tongue – hints of cinnamon, vanilla, and something that tasted suspiciously like a sunny day in spring. As the warmth spread through him, he felt some of his anxiety ebb away.

"So," Logan ventured, feeling slightly more grounded thanks to the tea, "has this happened before? People just... appearing out of nowhere like we did?"

Evangeline settled into a third armchair, her brow furrowing slightly as if trying to recall something long forgotten. “I thought that's what you might have meant before. " She sighed. “ Now and then," she confirmed. "It's not common, mind you, but it happens. The city has a way of... collecting interesting individuals."

Roscoe's ears perked up. "Fascinating. And I suppose our rather dramatic entrance in that gear-filled district was no mere coincidence?"

Evangeline's eyebrows raised slightly, still adjusting to the dog's newfound eloquence. "The Clockwork District? Oh yes, that makes sense. It's a bit more stable shall we say. Things tend to appear there more often than not, If lost somewhere else. Though most don't arrive with quite as much flair as you two, I must say."

Logan snorted. "Flair? Is that what we're calling 'falling face-first into a pile of gears' these days?"

“ I was rather more referring to your instant attraction of the local authorities and helping that poor girl.”

The humor faded from Logan's face as a more pressing concern surfaced. "Evangeline," he began, leaning forward, hope and trepidation warring in his voice, "is there... is there a way back? To Charleston, I mean?"

Evangeline’s expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and confusion crossing her face. “Back?” she echoed, as if the word itself was foreign. “I’m not sure I understand. This is… well, this is all there is.”

Logan blinked, taken aback. He glanced at Roscoe, who looked equally perplexed despite his newfound eloquence.

“You see,” Evangeline continued, her tone gentle but matter-of-fact, “Kronos isn’t just a city. It’s… everything. The idea of ‘leaving’ isn’t something we typically consider.”

Logan’s face fell, the hope in his eyes dimming. Roscoe, noticing his friend’s distress, spoke up. “Surely, in a place where the impossible seems commonplace, there must be ways to challenge even that notion?”

Evangeline nodded thoughtfully, seemingly unsurprised by the dog’s articulate input. “You’re not wrong. Kronos is full of wonders. These things are hardly impossible though. But the thing is, we don’t really have any way of knowing what’s beyond our borders, or if anything exists beyond them at all. Those who arrive here, well… they become part of Kronos. That’s just how it is.”

Logan slumped in his chair, the weight of her words settling heavily on his shoulders. “So we’re… stuck here? Forever?”

Evangeline leaned forward, her voice kind but firm. “I wouldn’t think of it as being stuck. Kronos has a way of growing on you. It’s a place of endless possibilities. Who knows? You might find that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

Logan sat up straighter, a new thought occurring to him. “Wait, what about other people from… from where we came from? Is there any way to know if they’ve come through too?” He hesitated, then pressed on. “There’s someone – Sarah. She disappeared back in Charleston, right before all this started happening. Is there any chance she might be here?”

Evangeline tilted her head, considering. “It’s certainly possible,” she said slowly. “If she vanished around the same time as whatever brought you here, there’s a chance she was pulled in as well. Yet….the city is vast, with many hidden corners and pockets of distorted space-time.”

“But there must be a way to find out, right?” Logan insisted, leaning forward eagerly. “To search for her?”

Evangeline nodded. “There are ways, yes. Information brokers who specialize in tracking people. Scryers who can glimpse fragments of possibility. Even the Dreamweavers might be able to help, searching the collective unconscious of the city.”

“That’s great!” Logan exclaimed, hope surging. But then he caught the cautious look in Evangeline’s eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“Such services don’t come cheap,” she explained. “And here, the price isn’t always measured in simple currency.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Evangeline sighed, realizing it was time for a crash course in local economics. “I suppose this brings us to your next most pressing concern – how to survive here .”

Evangeline leaned back, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. "We deal in a currency called chrono-credits. But it's not just money – it's time itself, crystallized into a tangible form."

Logan blinked, trying to wrap his head around the concept. "Time as money? How does that even work?"

"Think of it this way," Evangeline explained, her eyes twinkling. "Every moment you experience, every second you live, has value. We harness that value, to trade in the very stuff of existence."

Roscoe's ears perked up. "Fascinating. So one could, theoretically, become wealthy simply by... existing?"

Evangeline chuckled. "If only it were that simple. Chrono-credits are generated through meaningful actions, through creation and innovation. The more impact you have on the fabric of Kronos, the more credits you generate. Of course they don't appear in your pocket- The timekeeper handle that. "

Logan ran a hand through his hair, looking overwhelmed. "So how are we supposed to survive here? We don't have any of these chrono-credits, and I'm pretty sure my skills aren't going to cut it in a place where time is money."

Evangeline's expression softened. "Don't sell yourself short. You have value here, perhaps more than you realize. But you're right – you need a starting point."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

She paused, considering. "How about this: I have a spare room upstairs. You're welcome to stay there in exchange for helping out around the shop. It'll give you a chance to get your bearings.”

Logan's shoulders sagged with relief. "That... that would be amazing. Thank you, Evangeline."

As the weight of immediate concerns lifted slightly, Logan's gaze drifted to Roscoe. "Speaking of things I don't understand... what's the deal with him?"

He gestured to the terrier, who was currently examining a nearby bookshelf with scholarly interest. Or perhaps he was looking at the goldfish hungrily. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I always knew he was smart, but this is..."

Evangeline followed his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's not uncommon for beings to evolve, adapt, or manifest new abilities upon arrival."

Roscoe turned from the bookshelf, his canine features somehow managing to look thoughtful. "I must say, it's quite the experience. One moment, I'm contemplating the merits of various fire hydrants, and the next, I'm pondering the intricacies of quantum mechanics. Quite the upgrade, if I do say so myself."

Logan couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting him full force. "So my dog turning into a four-legged Stephen Hawking is just... normal here?"

Evangeline shrugged, her smile widening. "Normal is a relative term. But yes, it's not out of the ordinary."

As the conversation wound down, Evangeline stood, stretching slightly. "Why don't I show you to your room? You both look like you could use some rest."

Logan nodded gratefully, suddenly aware of the bone-deep weariness that had been creeping up on him. He stood, wobbling slightly as the events of the day caught up with him.

Evangeline led them up a winding staircase, the steps creaking and occasionally shifting beneath their feet. The hallway at the top was lined with doors, each one unique – some ornate, others simple, one that appeared to be made entirely of gold.

She stopped in front of a plain wooden door with a brass knocker shaped like a sleeping cat. She shushed it when it hissed at her. "Here we are. It's not much, but it should serve you well for now."

Logan opened the door, revealing a cozy room with a bed, a small desk, and a window that looked out over the glittering expanse of Kronos. The view took his breath away – towers that never seem to stop climbing, streets that twisted in impossible ways, and a sky filled with more stars than he'd ever seen.

"Thank you, Evangeline," Logan said softly, still staring out the window. "For everything."

She nodded, her expression warm. "Get some rest, Mr. Walker. Roscoe.”. She didn't curtsy, but he was ready for her to. Elegant lady, Evangeline.

As the footsteps faded down the hall, Logan collapsed onto the bed, his mind reeling. Roscoe hopped up beside him, curling up at his feet like he always had back home.

"What do you think?" Logan murmured, his eyes already growing heavy. "Are we in over our heads here?"

Roscoe yawned, his voice drowsy but still impeccably proper. "I think, Logan, that we're on the cusp of an adventure beyond our wildest dreams. And I, for one, can't wait to see what tomorrow brings."

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The room above the emporium was quiet, a stark contrast to the sounds sneaking in through the cracked glass window.

Though he could have sworn they’d only ascended a single flight of stairs the night before, somehow the view towered over the nearby buildings.

Below, The Clockwork District groaned—a sound somewhere between a steam work orchestra and the low growl of a dragon.

Sometimes literally

Logan absent-mindedly noticed one of the massive clockwork reptiles as it surged across the skyline. Its skin was a metallic sheen, reflecting the alien light of the sky across the buildings it patrolled.

He cut his eyes over at Roscoe, smirking slightly as he watched the dog try to turn a page with his nose. “Since when are you a fan of Shakespeare?”

Roscoe, without looking up, let out a dramatic sigh. “As I have just achieved the eloquence you so effortlessly acquired back home, can you blame me for seeking to elevate the flow of my words beyond even that?”

Logan rolled his eyes. Nodding at the pile of text nearby. “Looks more like an addiction to me boy. Don’t act like I didn’t catch you chewing a sock last night!”

The terrier wagged his tail, almost seeming to smirk and barked. “Ah, but one must always enjoy the little things Logan!”

Logan chuckled, unsure if he’d just been insulted or not, grabbed one of the discarded tomes and tossed it at the dog, who deftly caught it in his mouth. “Alright, alright, you win. Just try to keep it down, okay? Some of us are still adjusting to this whole talking-dog thing.” He gestured towards the window, his gaze drawn to the impossible spectacle of the Clockwork District. “This whole city… it’s like something out of a dream.”

With a sigh he leaned over to tie his shoes, noticing for the first time how out of place he must look. Fashion around here seemed a little bit more… Tesla? Perhaps Evangeline could help him with that.

“Come on boy, let’s go see if our host has an instruction manual for this place.” The dog hopped up excitedly, looking for all the world like he was ready for a walk back home. “If she did, it would likely be indecipherable and printed on material we’ve never seen before!”

Logan grinned wryly. “Well then, at least that’ll be the same.”

As they made their way down the winding staircase, Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that the steps were subtly rearranging themselves beneath his feet. He grip the railing tighter just in case, and make sure to follow in Roscoe's steps

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the ever-present aroma of old books and exotic spices. The shop looked different in the morning light – if it could be called morning light. Through the windows, Logan could see that the sky outside was a swirling mix of dawn colors, despite the clock on the wall insisting it was well past noon.

The shelves seemed to have rearranged themselves overnight. Books that Logan could have sworn were on one side of the shop yesterday now occupied entirely different spaces. A collection of hourglasses near the front door slowly rotated, their sands flowing in impossible directions – up, sideways, and in one case, forming intricate fractal patterns.

"Ah, there you are!" Evangeline's voice called out from somewhere in the depths of the shop. She emerged from behind a towering stack of ledgers, each one bound in what looked suspiciously like clockwork. "I trust you slept well? Time has a way of moving differently for newcomers. You might find you've rested for an hour or a week – it's all the same in Kronos."

Logan blinked, trying to process this information. "Uh, yeah, we slept... fine? I think?" He glanced at Roscoe, who nodded in agreement.

Evangeline smiled warmly. "Excellent. Now, how about some breakfast? I've prepared a little something to help you adjust to our cuisine."

She led them to a small table tucked between two bookcases. On it sat an assortment of pastries that seemed to defy description. Some shimmered with an inner light, while others slowly changed shape as Logan watched. A pot of what he assumed was coffee sat in the center, steam rising from it in complex helixes.

"Don't be shy," Evangeline encouraged, gesturing to the spread. "The tarts are particularly good – they'll give you a little boost to help navigate the city's time fluctuations."

Logan hesitantly reached for a pastry that looked relatively normal, only to have it transform into a miniature clockwork bird the moment he touched it. It chirped once, then crumbled into a pile of delicious-smelling crumbs.

"Oh my," Roscoe commented, his tail wagging despite his scholarly tone. "How utterly fascinating. I don't suppose you have any bacon, by any chance?"

Evangeline laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. "I'm afraid not, but I do have some infused kibble that I think you'll enjoy."

As they settled in to eat, Evangeline began outlining their plans for the day. "First things first," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "we need to get you two properly outfitted for Kronos."

"Outfitted?" Logan asked, pausing mid-bite of a pastry that tasted like orange juice and cheerios. He was glad not to have to mention it himself.

Evangeline nodded sagely. "Oh yes. While your current attire isn't entirely out of place, it does rather scream 'newcomer.' And in Kronos, standing out isn't always... advisable."

Logan glanced down at his clothes, then at Roscoe, who was contentedly munching on kibble that occasionally flickered in and out of existence. "I guess we do stick out a bit," he admitted.

"Indeed," Evangeline agreed. "Kronos fashion is a bit... different from what you're used to. It's not just about aesthetics – the right outfit can protect you from temporal distortions, probability fluctuations, and the occasional hiccup in reality."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Reality hiccup?"

Evangeline waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, you know, when a patch of sidewalk decides it would rather be a swarm of butterflies, or a rainstorm gets confused and starts precipitating timepieces instead of raindrops. Nothing to worry about if you're properly dressed."

Roscoe looked up from his bowl, his expression thoughtful. "I must say, the implications for textile engineering in such an environment are absolutely fascinating. I don't suppose you have any literature on the subject?"

Evangeline's eyes lit up. "As a matter of fact, I do! There's a delightful treatise on fabrics in the Temporal Textiles section. Remind me to show you later."

She turned back to Logan, who was still trying to wrap his head around the concept of rain made of clocks. "Now then, let's see about getting you some proper attire."

Evangeline disappeared into the back of the shop, returning moments later with an armful of clothing that seemed to shimmer and shift as she moved. She laid the items out on a nearby table, and Logan's eyes widened as he took in the array.

There was a leather coat outfitted with buckles and metal plates, a velvet lined vest that seemed to be made of tiny interlocking gears, each one connected perfectly to the next. A pair of boots with soles of rubber and tipped in brass and a shirt woven from what looked like silk.

"These should do nicely," Evangeline said, holding up the coat for Logan to see. "The coat will help you navigate the Clockwork District without getting caught in any temporal eddies. The boots are perfect for when you need to step between moments – very handy in a pinch. And the Moonweave Shirt... well, it just looks dashing, doesn't it?"

Logan reached out tentatively to touch the shirt, marveling at how it felt both solid and ephemeral under his fingers. "This is... incredible," he breathed.

Evangeline beamed. "Wait until you try them on. Go on, there's a changing room just behind that shelf of puzzles."

As Logan gathered the clothes and made his way to the changing room, Evangeline turned to Roscoe. "Now, for you, my eloquent friend, I have something special."

She produced a bow tie, which she promptly affixed to his collar. “It has a built-in probability manipulator – very useful for ensuring your favorite hydrants are always free when you need them."

Roscoe's tail wagged furiously. "My dear Evangeline, you are as thoughtful as you are knowledgeable. I shall wear it with pride."

As Logan emerged from the changing room, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. Evangeline clapped her hands together in delight. "Perfect! You look like a proper Kronian now."

Logan turned to examine his reflection in a nearby mirror, which showed him from three- or was it six- different angles simultaneously. The effect was dizzying, but he had to admit – he did look pretty good.

"Now then," Evangeline said, her tone becoming more businesslike, "let's go over a few basics before we head out. First rule of Kronos: always be aware of your surroundings. The city has a tendency to... shift. What's a bakery one moment might be a experimental lab the next. Best to stay alert."

Logan nodded, trying to commit everything to memory. "Got it. Anything else?"

Evangeline ticked off points on her fingers. "Don't stare too long at the Probability Fountains in the square – they have a tendency to rewrite your personal history if you're not careful. Avoid making deals with Mnemonic Merchants unless you're prepared to pay in memories. And whatever you do, don't try to wind the Great Broken Clock. The last person who tried that ended up reliving Tuesday for three hundred years."

Logan's head was spinning, but he nodded again. "Right. No fountains, no dream deals, no clock winding. I think I've got it."

Roscoe sat at attention, failing to keep a monocle he had scrounged up somewhere on. "I believe we're as prepared as we can be, given the circumstances. Shall we em-bark on our grand tour?”