Cracks in Time
1290 Words
Colson POV
I didn’t run.
Running draws attention.
Running says guilty.
Running says chased.
Running says I absolutely have something catastrophic tucked under my shirt.
So I walked.
Measured steps. Casual pace. Head up. Eyes half-lidded like I was bored instead of actively carrying a piece of something that could collapse entire power structures.
The fragment pressed against my ribs like a second heartbeat.
Not painful.
Just present.
Aware.
I cut through back streets, doubled back twice, paused long enough in one shadow to make sure I wasn’t being tailed. Every instinct I had screamed that someone should be behind me. That I’d turn and find Kendrick’s witch smiling through the dark like a cat who’d found the cream.
Nothing.
Which didn’t make me feel better.
By the time I reached Amaris’s street, my nerves were strung tight enough to hum.
Her house looked exactly as it had earlier.
Unremarkable.
Forgettable.
Dangerously ordinary.
I stepped onto the front walk and exhaled slowly.
“Alright,” I muttered. “Act normal. You just trapped a hell-witch and stole an ancient relic. Totally normal Tuesday.”
The door opened before I could knock.
Of course it did.
Amaris stood framed in the doorway, posture straight, eyes sharp. She scanned me once, quickly, then her gaze shifted downward.
“You’re bleeding,” she said calmly.
I blinked.
Looked down.
A thin line of blood trailed from my temple, likely from when the sigils flared too close for comfort.
“Huh,” I murmured. “Missed that.”
Her expression didn’t change. “Inside.”
I stepped in quickly. The wards sealed behind me with a soft hum, and for a brief second, I felt… safe.
The fragment reacted instantly.
A subtle pulse.
A ripple.
The air shifted.
Amaris stilled.
Her eyes snapped to my chest.
“…You found it.”
“First piece,” I confirmed, carefully pulling the wrapped bundle from beneath my shirt. “And before you start, no, I did not grab it barehanded like an idiot.”
She stepped closer, watching intently as I loosened the fabric just enough for her to see the edge of parchment and the slow crawl of living runes.
Her breath caught.
Recognition.
Not fear.
That was somehow worse.
“It’s active,” she whispered.
“It tried to split my skull open,” I said lightly. “We bonded.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine.
“Colson.”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. “Earth crystal helped. Didn’t touch it directly. Used the shirt as a barrier.”
She studied me for a long moment, likely checking for magical contamination or some sign that I’d done something catastrophically stupid.
“I don’t feel corruption on you,” she murmured.
“Wow. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in centuries.”
She ignored that.
Then the pocket watch vibrated.
Hard.
The sensation shot up my thigh like a warning pulse.
I froze.
“…That’s not right.”
I pulled it out immediately.
And my stomach dropped.
A thin fracture ran across the glass face.
Hairline.
Subtle.
But wrong.
The vibration stuttered—on, off, on again—like it couldn’t decide whether it was alive or dying.
“It wasn’t like this,” I said quietly. “It was stable.”
Amaris stepped closer, taking the watch from my hand.
The moment her fingers brushed mine, warmth sparked between us—familiar, grounding—but it didn’t steady me this time.
She turned the watch slowly under the light.
“This is not physical damage,” she said after a moment.
My jaw tightened.
“It’s magical.”
Of course it was.
Her expression darkened. “Something interfered.”
“Kendrick’s witch?” I asked.
“Possibly. Or something reacted to the fragment’s movement through time.”
My stomach twisted.
“So… the universe noticed.”
“In a manner of speaking,” she replied calmly.
The watch buzzed again.
Then cut out entirely.
Silence.
Cold, empty silence.
My pulse ticked up.
“If it dies completely—”
“It won’t,” she said firmly.
She lifted the watch to eye level, fingers tracing the crack without touching the glass directly.
“This spell anchors you to your time through this device. The fracture indicates strain, not collapse.”
“Define strain,” I muttered.
“It means the spell was stressed.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“No,” she agreed.
I stared at her.
“How long?”
She hesitated.
I hated hesitation.
“Hours,” she said. “A few at most.”
A few hours.
That was… survivable.
Unless someone came looking.
The fragment pulsed faintly again, reacting to the tension.
Amaris’s eyes flicked toward it.
“You cannot leave that here,” she said quietly.
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“If Kendrick’s witch sensed it once, she can sense it again,” Amaris continued. “My wards are strong. But they are static. Predictable. You are not.”
I stared at her.
“You want me to carry it back into the city.”
“Yes.”
“That’s insane.”
“Colson.”
Her voice was steady. Firm.
“You are already insane.”
Fair.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice slightly.
“If they suspect me, they will come here. And I cannot risk that.”
Her jaw tightened.
“They will not find it here.”
And that’s when it clicked.
If Kendrick’s witch had felt the fragment, if the trap hadn’t fully masked the retrieval…
They might already be narrowing the search.
I looked down at the wrapped piece in my hands.
“You trust me with this,” I said quietly.
Her gaze softened.
“It is safer with you.”
Something in my chest shifted at that.
She didn’t say it lightly.
She didn’t say it strategically.
She meant it.
I swallowed hard, then nodded once.
“Fine,” I muttered. “Guess I’m officially a walking apocalypse.”
A faint smile tugged at her mouth.
“Keep suspicion off yourself,” she instructed. “Return to the city. Be visible. Be predictable.”
“Be the charming morally questionable vampire you know and tolerate.”
“Yes.”
“And if someone follows?”
“You lose them.”
I snorted softly. “I do have a talent for that.”
She held the watch carefully, already murmuring under her breath, quiet threads of magic weaving through the crack. Light flickered faintly across the fracture.
It didn’t close.
Not yet.
But it stabilized.
A faint hum returned.
Weak.
But there.
“You have time,” she said. “Not much. But enough.”
I tucked the fragment securely back beneath my shirt, adjusting the fabric carefully to keep it shielded.
Then I hesitated.
“If this fails,” I said quietly. “If the watch—”
“It won’t,” she repeated.
But this time there was something in her eyes.
Concern.
Not fear.
For me.
I nodded once.
“Fix it,” I said.
“I will.”
The wards shifted as she opened the door again.
I stepped back into the night air, feeling immediately more exposed.
More vulnerable.
The city lights flickered in the distance.
The fragment pulsed once against my ribs.
The cracked watch hummed faintly in my pocket.
And somewhere out there—
Kendrick was thinking.
Ezra was watching.
And time itself had just shown me it could bleed.
I adjusted my coat and forced a grin as I stepped toward the city.
“Well,” I muttered to myself, “what’s the worst that could happen?”
The fragment warmed ominously.
“…Don’t answer that.”
- Writer
