The Clocktower of Eons

"I have to go," Caspian said, standing up.

"Don't leave me," Lyra whimpered. "Please don't leave me again."

"I’m coming back," Caspian promised. "I’m going to rewrite the beginning."

He scooped her up in his arms. He kicked the window open. He levitated them out into the night air, flying toward the center of the Sunken City.

The Clocktower of Eons stood in the middle of the lagoon. It was a massive structure of brass and gears, half-submerged in the water. It was said to control the flow of time in Sector 4.

Caspian landed on the balcony of the clock face. He kicked the maintenance door open.

Inside, the gears were grinding, ticking away the seconds of Lyra’s life.

He laid Lyra on the floor. She was barely breathing.

Caspian turned to the main mechanism. He began to channel his magic into the gears.

"Turn back," he commanded. "Turn back to before I arrived. Turn back to the Void."

If he could reverse time to the moment he opened the door, he could choose not to enter. He could leave her with the baker.

The gears groaned. The brass heated up.

* YOU ARE TRESPASSING,* a voice boomed from the machinery.

Time Wraiths—spectral guardians of the timeline—materialized from the shadows. They were faceless figures made of clock hands and dust.

"I don't care!" Caspian roared. He blasted the first Wraith with a bolt of shadow-fire.

He fought with one hand, channeling magic into the clock with the other.

"Turn back!" he screamed.

The clock hands slowed. They began to tremble. They started to move counter-clockwise.

Hope flared in Caspian’s chest.

He looked at Lyra. "It’s working! Lyra, hold on!"

But as the time reversed, the paradox strengthened. The universe realized an anomaly was trying to undo a fixed point.

The backlash hit.

The gears didn't just stop; they shattered.

A wave of temporal energy exploded outward. It threw Caspian against the wall. It knocked the Wraiths into dust.

But it didn't reverse time. It broke the mechanism.

The clock stopped.

Caspian dragged himself across the floor to Lyra.

"No," he wheezed. "No, no, no."

He checked her pulse. It was a flutter. A moth wing against glass.

He had failed. He couldn't reverse it. He couldn't save her.

"Lyra," he begged, pulling her into his lap. "Lyra, look at me."

She opened her eyes. The hazel was fading to gray.

"Caspian," she whispered. Her voice was clear now. The hallucinations were gone. She saw him.

"I tried," Caspian sobbed. "I tried to fix it. I just wanted to love you. I just wanted to make up for what I did."

Lyra looked at him. She saw the grief. She saw the desperation.

But she also saw the truth.

"You killed me," she whispered.

It wasn't an accusation from Prime Lyra. It was a realization from Sector 4 Lyra. She understood. She felt the weight of the other life he had dragged into hers.

"I loved my life," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I loved the bakery. I loved the smell of the rain. You took it."

"I thought I could give you more," Caspian wept.

"You gave me this," she breathed.

She reached up. He thought she was going to touch his face. He leaned in, desperate for comfort.

She pushed his chest. It was a weak, feeble push, but the intent was clear.

"Go away," she whispered. "Leave me alone."

Her hand fell.

Her chest stilled.

The bond snapped.