The ticking grows louder. Tick. Tick. Tick.
It starts to feel like it's coming from inside your own head, a rhythmic pounding that doesn't stop. You press your hands to your ears, but it's no use.
The man's voice cuts through the chaos, shaking you from the spiraling sound.
"You have to remember."
You glance at the stairs again. There's something waiting at the top. The air grows thick, almost suffocating, like the weight of this entire place is bearing down on you.
"What is it?" you ask, your voice trembling. "What's up there?"
He doesn't answer right away. His eyes flicker to the clock face, the endless void beyond it, and you notice his hands clench into fists.
"Something that's been there since the beginning."
A flicker of fear crosses his face—real fear—and it only deepens your sense of unease.
The clock's ticking speeds up. Tick. Tick. Tick. It echoes in your skull, reverberating in the walls of the tower.
The man steps back, almost reluctantly, and his eyes never leave you.
"You can't avoid it. The time is almost here. You'll understand when you see it for yourself."
You feel it in your bones. The same way you knew the clock tower shouldn't exist, the same way you knew something was wrong from the very beginning. This city, these people—they've all been leading you here.
Leading you to this moment.
With a shaking breath, you step forward. The stairs are narrow, old, and steep, twisting upward like a spiral into darkness. The walls are covered in carvings that seem to pulse and change as you ascend, the lines shifting every time you look away.
The higher you go, the more familiar it becomes.
You can almost hear voices—whispers, murmurs. The same voice that warned you earlier. The voice from the letter. You are not real. Wake up before they notice you.
A sound.
The clocks. The whispers. The air grows colder with each step.
And then you hear it—footsteps above you.
Your blood runs cold. The man's words echo in your head: You'll understand when you see it for yourself.
You reach the final landing. The door at the top is slightly ajar. The black void beyond the clock face pulses.
And standing in the center of the room, under the eternal ticking hands of the clock, is you.
A twisted, distorted version of yourself. Your reflection—but wrong.
It smiles.
You freeze.
It doesn't speak, but you can feel its presence in your mind. This isn't just a reflection. This is something alive. Something that has been waiting for you.
It points toward the void.
"It's time.
You swallow, stepping back. Your body trembles with the instinct to run, but your feet feel rooted to the ground. There's a pull, a gravitational force, coming from the black void beyond the clock's hands.
You want to speak, to demand answers, but your voice is caught in your throat. The air feels thick, heavy, like the walls are closing in. The ticking of the clock grows louder. Tick. Tick. Tick. It's deafening now.
And then—the reflection speaks.
"You've been running long enough. Time doesn't move in this city. But it's moving now. And so are you."
You take a step forward, unsure of why. But something inside you is pulling you toward the reflection, toward the void that seems to consume all light. The reflection's smile widens, like it knows exactly what you're thinking.
"You're going to wake up. You don't have a choice."
The words hit you like a slap, and a wave of panic sweeps over you. You want to ask questions. You want to understand—but you can't. The answer is in the void. And you know that if you step into it, you'll finally remember. But will it be worth the cost?
The Void Beckons
The clock ticks once more, and then—everything changes.
The room shifts. The walls warp, and the light dims, swallowed by the blackness. The reflection vanishes, leaving only its smile carved into the air, hovering in front of you. You take another step toward the void.
Your mind spins. Memories flicker, flash, and break apart. Who are you?
Who were you before this city?
A sudden vision cuts through your mind—a woman's face, a memory long buried, then gone as quickly as it appeared.
A place. A city without dusk.
The void grows larger.
You know it's time. The moment is slipping away.
Inside the Void
The darkness is overwhelming. The tick of the clock is gone. Everything feels still, except for the cold, icy feeling wrapping around your mind. You stumble forward, every step dragging you deeper into the blackness. The air smells unfamiliar—like a world you once knew but forgot.
And then—you see it.
A faint light. A doorway.
You walk toward it, almost as if drawn by something outside yourself.
The moment you cross through, the city blinks out again.
And suddenly—
You're standing in the middle of a street—but it's not the city you know.
It's a place from your past.
A place you've been before.
The streets are unfamiliar, but somehow intimately familiar. There's a woman walking toward you—her face clear this time. Her eyes meet yours. She stops, frozen in place, and then—her lips move.
"You left."
The world around you collapses. The sky above flickers like a broken film reel. And in an instant, you're back in the city—but it's different now. The shadows feel alive. The people seem more aware.
The reflection wasn't the only one who was waiting for you.
And now, they know you're here.