The Wistful Ashes

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2026-08-19 11:10:04 -

The Wistful Ashes

The clock tower in Oakhaven did not tick. It hummed. A low, vibrating thrum that settled in the teeth and rattled the loose fillings in my jaw. I stood on the cobblestones, holding the satchel. The leather was warm. It felt like skin. It felt like mine. I am a restorer. I fix what is broken. Clocks, mostly. Gears, springs, escapements. I make time move again. But here, in this city of iron and...

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