Vora’s black shoes slapped the cobblestone sidewalk as she observed the everyday of O’Landra. She watched those humanoid, ivory creatures chatting with or assisting those of her species. At a store she passed, a Chime was an employee. On the street and in homes, people would voluntarily be blessed by bells ringing over their heads. Some Chimes just walked around among the people. The relations between humans and Chimes were good, thanks to Maiden Sympha.

Vora saw a Chime he was familiar with coming out of a coffee shop with two women following him. His name was Honeydew, and he was as gorgeous as a prince with his blonde hair, slender body, and ever-exposed abs and pecks. He provided services to women, but Vora was never explained what.

Most Chimes were created without names, so humans gave them one based on first-observation attributes. Honeydew smelt like his namesake.

A few blocks more and Vora would be marveling at sugary treats. When she turned the corner, she ran into a clothy wall and fell on her butt. The Chime she collided with wore a black suit, white gloves, and had a brass chain wrapped around his head, only exposing one golden eye.

“That’s too bad. Your day is ruined now,” Hasmed said drearily, helping Vora back up.

“Not at all,” Vora responded, dusting her purple and black dress off. “Nothing could keep me down. Not when I’m so close.”

“So close?” cackled Gretgle, approaching from behind Hasmed.

Gretgle had the body of a hunchbacked old man with only a few strands of hair left. A heavy cockney accent passed his three remaining teeth.

These two were Kindlers, Chimes who worked directly under the Bearer of the region. The Kindler's more official jobs revolved around running churches, performing weddings, healing the sick, and heading savings. Along with Maiden Sympha, twelve other Bearers lorded over their areas how they pleased. However, Maiden Sympha was still held highest in the clergy.

“You must be going to the ‘andy store today.” Gretgle figured it out quickly. “’ere.” He tossed Vora a few Ruthal coins.

“Excellent. I appreciate it.” Vora curtsied and proceeded to the store, leaving the Chimes in the dust. She burst through the jingly door of the candy store and announced, “Vora Snihde is in your presence.”

Nobody bothered to break their current priorities to humor the juvenile, loud customer. Wall to wall and aisle to aisle, colorful creations sparkled like jewelry to Vora. Beauty. There were buckets of taffy, fridges of cool pops, a forest of lollipops and suckers, and behind the counter was what Vora called “the good stuff.” Vora needed candy that was not only top-notch but also aerodynamic.

She all but leaped onto the front counter, unapologetically blurting her order. “I want a bag of lion heads, two lemon scissors, and a strawberry necklace, to start with.” A sharp pain pierced the very top of her head. It wasn’t her gift kicking in this time.

“Oww.” Vora turned to see who and what had struck her.

“How dare you cut in front of me. Have your manners have faltered in the past two weeks.”

The man was dark-skinned, portly, with brilliant short white hair and a sparkling beard. He held a cane in his right hand as he had a bum leg. On his torso was a brand-new gray suit, and the chain of a pocket watch dangled from his pocket.

Vora starred daggers. “Not my fault I didn’t see you. I know that’s hard to believe,” she mocked.

“You’re a little old to be so obsessed with candy,” the man retorted.

They both laughed after a pause. They quickly paid for their candy when they received annoying airs and left the building to talk outside.

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“Did you make anything interesting lately, Uncle Crowdon?” Vora asked, walking with the limping man.

Nigel Crowdon was the same age as her father and his best friend. He’d known Vora before she was even born. He even skillfully changed her diapers a handful of times. This man made a living as a clockmaker mainly, but he invented other contraptions the ignorant would claim were magic.

“Everything I make is interesting,” Nigel huffed. “Perhaps seeing my inventions has spoiled your mind as seeing masterpieces mundane.”

“Naturally,” Vora replied skeptically, flicking a bug off her arm.

“What I work on will change the world.” Nigel stared at Vora out of the corner of his eye. Then he squinted when she didn’t show interest. “Fine. I will show you.”

***

It was a mystery how Nigel didn’t drop into insanity working in his shop. The constant ticking and tocking, all impressively in sync, already irritated Vora after a minute. Thankfully, they entered the back room where relief for Vora’s ears was. It was a workshop for repairs and creating new things.

Testing on the “repaired” table were several household appliances and a hunting rifle. On a table in the center of the room was a meshed iron bird with cogs and springs for guts. Inside its clockwork was a small chunk of alloy that glowed light blue.

“I’ll make that tiny mind explode out of your skull with this,” Nigel proclaimed, sticking a toothpick in his grin.

“I’ve seen the bird before,” Vora sighed, disappointed. “If it actually flew rather than stay in one place, that would be grand.”

Nigel snickered and twisted a key on the bird's back. It flapped, took to the air, and tweeted around Vora’s head. Vora’s expression forced a jolly laugh from Nigel.

The bird landed on Vora’s head and pecked it. Vora winced, snatched it, and turned it off. “I’ll admit, it’s a little impressive. I’ve seen you do better.” Vora pointed to within with her white fingernail. “What’s that glowing chunk in it?”

“Let’s just call it a power supply and leave it at that.”

Vora flicked a hard candy at Nigel, who caught it and tossed it in his mouth instinctively. Vora supplied her own tongue with some sugar.

“Boo. I need to use the bathroom.”

After Vora ran off, Nigel removed the blue chunk from the bird. He opened a heavily locked cabinet and placed it next to some iron spheres with intricate cracks. He pocketed one and sealed the cabinet shut.

Before Vora returned, Nigel used his foot to shift a rug so it thoroughly covered the hatch to the basement. Vora stayed around for a few hours, messing with the creations Mr. Crowdon had made and fixing a few clocks after being cleverly challenged by her uncle. He got free and efficient work from her nimble fingers and over-developed flesh walnut.

“Suppose a should feed you,” Nigel muttered with his deep voice. “It’s about supper time, and I don’t want your mother to assume I starved you.”

“Don’t sound too enthused,” Vora replied sarcastically.

“What was that?” Nigel lifted a white brow.

“Thank you, Uncle Crowdon,” sweetly said the violet-haired girl.

In the kitchen, Nigel was cooking steaks over a flame. Vora grabbed a rolled parchment left out on the kitchen table and spread it open to reveal the earth. She ran her finger across the blue between the land.

“That’s the ocean,” Nigel said, placing steaming meat on the table. “It’s a big ol’ lake.”

“It’s massive. I would love to see it. Nothing but glittering water and the horizon. Shame it’s in the death fog.”

After a pause, Crowdon responded, “Yeah. Damn shame. Eat that up. All of it, now. Then I’m walking you home.”

“I can walk in the dark on my own,” Vora said before shoving juicy meat into her mouth.

“I don’t care if you can.” Nigel pointed at Vora with his chocolate finger. “Some Soot might get you. Or Sin Eater himself.” After Vora rolled her eyes, Nigel took a bite, burped, and stroked his beard. “And I need to give Rudolf a few things. I got him a present: A new pipe. Made it myself. And some important notes about a project I’m working on.”

Vora ceased listening halfway through his talking. She stared at the picture of Mr. Crowdon embracing a dark-skinned woman with indigo hair and red, partially closed eyes. She had her hand resting on her bulging stomach.

A dull but irritating pain traveled Vora’s leg. She was, unfortunately, copying the aches of the man across from her. She breathed and focused hard, but the pain wouldn’t leave by her will. It went away on its own after she cleaned her plate.

“Have you ever had a Chime attempt to heal your leg?” Vora asked suddenly.

“No. No. I’m not really about that. Prefer walking it off," Nigel chuckled.

“You should be jailed for such corniness,” Vora huffed.

Nigel grabbed his smokey coat and put it on. “Let’s go now. Don’t slow me down.”