The clock tower strikes four. You do not look up. You are counting the gears. There are three hundred and twelve. You have counted them a thousand times. The brass is tarnished now. The patina is thick. It looks like dried blood. Or rust. It does not matter. It is old. It is yours. No, not yours. It belongs to the Crown. You are only the keeper.

The King is here.

You feel him before you see him. The air changes. It grows heavy. It smells of wax and fear. You stand by the mechanism. Your hands are steady. They are always steady. Your father’s hands were not steady. His hands shook. That is why he died. Or so they said.

King Edward walks in. He is tall. He wears velvet. The color is dark. Like night. He stops before you. He does not speak. He looks at the clock. Then he looks at you. His eyes are cold. They are the color of iron.

"Is it ready?" he asks.

His voice is low. It does not echo. The room swallows it.

"Yes, Your Majesty," you say.

Your voice is flat. You keep it flat. You learned that from your father. Do not show joy. Do not show fear. Show nothing.

The clock is the heart of the palace. It is the heart of the kingdom. When it stops, the law stops. When it breaks, the people panic. You have kept it running for ten years. You are the best craftsman in the land. They say so. But you are not the King. You are just a man with a key.

"Open it," the King says.

You reach for the panel. Your fingers touch the wood. It is cold. You slide the latch. It grinds. You push. The wood gives way.

Inside is the engine. It is a beast of brass and steel. The pendulum swings. Left. Right. Left. Right. The sound is a thud. A heavy, wet thud. Like a heart beating in a chest.

The King steps closer. He leans in. He smells of lavender. It is a sharp scent. It cuts through the smell of oil.

"Your father," he says.

You do not flinch. You keep your eyes on the pendulum.

"Your father made a mistake," the King continues. "He thought he could change the time."

You blink. Once.

"He tried to slow it down," the King says. "To hold the moment. To keep the peace."

Your throat tightens. You remember. You were young. Your father was in this room. He was crying. He was begging. He was holding the main gear. He was trying to stop it. The King had come. The guards had come. Your father died with the gear in his hand. They said he was mad. They said he was a traitor. They said he wanted to stop the war.

But it was not a war. It was just a day. A bad day. He wanted to hold it. He wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to keep the sun up.

"I understand," you say.

The King looks at you. He is smiling. It is a thin smile. It does not reach his eyes.

"Do you?" he asks.

"Yes," you say. "He was a fool."

The King nods. He steps back. He takes a key from his pocket. It is small. It is gold. It is shaped like a bird. An eagle.

"This key," he says. "It opens the core."

He holds it out. You do not take it.

"Take it," he says.

You reach out. Your fingers are stiff. You take the key. It is warm. It burns your skin.

"You will unlock it," the King says. "You will stop the clock."

Your heart stops.

"For how long?" you ask.

"As long as it takes," the King says. "Until the enemy is defeated. Until the border is secure. Until the peace is real."

"It will break," you say. "If you stop it, it will break. The gears will seize. The spring will snap. It will never run again."

The King does not answer.

"It is the only way," you say. "To save the kingdom, you must kill the clock."

The King looks at you. His face is hard. He is not a man. He is a stone.

"Do it," he says.

You look at the clock. The pendulum swings. Left. Right. Left. Right.

You think of your father. You think of his hands. You think of his face. He was not mad. He was just afraid. He was just a father. He wanted to save you. He wanted to save the world. He failed.

You will not fail.

You insert the key.

It turns.

There is a sound. A click. A snap. The pendulum stops.

Silence.

The silence is loud. It is heavy. It presses against your ears. It presses against your chest.

The King steps forward. He looks at the clock. He looks at you.

"Good," he says.

He turns. He walks away. His footsteps are light. They do not make a sound.

You stand there. You are alone.

The clock is dead.

The silence grows. It fills the room. It fills the hall. It fills the palace.

You look at your hands. They are shaking. They are shaking badly.

You reach for the lever. You pull it down.

The gears grind. They scream. Metal on metal. It is a terrible sound. It is the sound of death.

The main spring snaps.

It flies out. It hits the wall. It hits the floor. It hits your face.

It is a small piece of steel. It is sharp. It cuts your cheek.

You do not feel it.

You look at the clock. It is broken. The gears are tangled. The brass is bent. It is a mess.

It is ruined.

You did it.

You saved the kingdom.

You stopped the time.

You killed the clock.

You sit down on the floor. The floor is cold.

You wait.

You wait for the guards. You wait for the punishment. You wait for the end.

But no one comes.

The silence remains.

You look at the key. It is in your hand. You drop it. It clatters on the floor.

You look at the clock.

The pendulum is still.

The gears are still.

The time is gone.

You are alone.

You are the keeper of nothing.

You are the keeper of silence.

You stand up. Your legs are weak. You lean against the wall.

You look at the door.

You open it.

The hallway is empty.

You walk out.

You walk down the stairs.

The palace is quiet.

The people are gone.

The soldiers are gone.

The King is gone.

You are alone.

You walk to the gate.

The gate is open.

You walk out.

The sun is high.

It is bright.

It is hot.

You walk into the city.

The city is quiet.

The shops are closed.

The streets are empty.

You walk to the square.

The fountain is dry.

The birds are gone.

You sit on a bench.

You look at the sky.

The sky is blue.

It is empty.

You close your eyes.

You wait.

You wait for the time to start again.

But it does not.

The silence remains.

You are the keeper of silence.

You are the king of nothing.

You are free.

You are lost.

You are alone.

The sun moves.

The shadows grow.

The night comes.

The stars appear.

They are bright.

They are cold.

You look at them.

They do not care.

They do not stop.

They do not break.

They are eternal.

You are not.

You are just a man.

You are just a shadow.

You are just a ghost.

You are just a memory.

You are just a cipher.

You are just a word.

You are just a name.

You are just a lie.

You are just a truth.

You are just a silence.

The silence wins.

The silence always wins.

You close your eyes.

You sleep.

You do not wake.