The city outside Salem’s window looked… wrong. Not in a “glitch” kind of way, though the flickers along the edges of buildings suggested otherwise. No, this was subtler. Time itself seemed to have settled into an odd rhythm, like a heartbeat someone had intentionally slowed down. People walked, but their steps echoed faintly, as if the world were aware of its own ticking.
Salem rubbed his eyes. “Great. Another day… or hour… or whatever this is.”
A soft chime rang in his ears, like a tiny bell suspended somewhere deep in the folds of reality. He turned and froze. The bell had a source—or rather, a presence. Floating above his desk was a small, brass pocket watch. Its hands spun wildly, clockwise then counterclockwise, leaving faint trails of glittering light in the air.
> “Oh no,” he
