The peace lasted two weeks.
Marcus stood at the threshold, guarding the door against the thing that waited beyond. But his mind was elsewhere, focused on the Anchor, on the presence that had been revealed in the depths of the connection. The Anchor was recognized, honored, remembered. But something was wrong.
He could feel it at the edges of his awareness—a shadow, a darkness that was growing in the heart of the Anchor itself. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, like a faint stain on a white cloth. But it was spreading.
Anna arrived at the clock tower one morning, her face pale, her eyes hollow.
"I felt it too," she said. "The shadow in the Anchor. It's growing."
Marcus nodded slowly. "I know. I've been trying to understand what it is, but I can't. It's like... like somethin
