CHAPTER 8: THE COLLECTOR'S MAP
372 Words
By morning, Clara had not slept.
Elias’s workshop was no longer a mystery—it was a fortress. Reinforced shutters, shelves of rare metals, blueprints of London’s underbelly, and fragments of timepieces that shimmered with ancient energy surrounded them. The shattered pocket watch sat on the table between them, its faint glow dimmed but not extinguished.
“You said there are more of these,” Clara said, voice hoarse from the long night. “More timepieces like this one?”
Elias nodded. “Six in total, each bound to a moment that cannot be changed—unless someone like you finds the piece that controls it.”
He retrieved a cracked map and unrolled it across the table. “Your father spent years locating them. He believed they were hidden inside structures tied to London’s history—cathedrals, tunnels, bridges. Places where the city's heartbeat is strongest.”
Clara traced a trembling finger over a marked point near the Thames. “What’s this?”
“The Collector’s Vault,” Elias said. “An old noble turned artifact hoarder. He vanished decades ago, but your father believed he had the second piece locked beneath his estate.”
Before Clara could answer, a knock sounded—three sharp taps, then silence.
Elias tensed. “No one knows this place.”
He crossed the room and opened a hidden panel. Inside was a compartment carved into the wall. “Get in.”
“What?”
“They’re here.”
Clara didn’t argue. She ducked into the narrow space, heart pounding as Elias shut the panel. She could still hear him—his boots crossing the floor, the creak of the front door opening.
A low voice echoed through the shop. Male. Smooth. Controlled.
“We’re simply looking for a girl,” it said. “Dark hair. Brown eyes. Wears a watch that doesn’t belong in her hands.”
“I haven’t seen anyone,” Elias replied evenly.
A pause. Then a faint metallic sound—like a blade being drawn.
“We hope you’re telling the truth.”
Clara held her breath. Outside, time was growing sharper—colder.
And she realized something terrifying.
The Keepers weren’t just chasing her.
They knew who she was.
- Writer
