Ren Valtheris had always hated clocks.

They watched him. No, really—watched him. He could feel their tick-tick-ticking, like the heartbeat of something ancient, something waiting. Every time he passed the town’s bell tower, he swore the hands twitched, just a fraction too fast or too slow. It made his skin crawl.

So, naturally, when the old man handed him a pocket watch, Ren wanted to throw it into the nearest river.

"It belonged to your father," the man said. He was robed in deep blue, the color of scholars and liars. "And his father before him. Keep it safe."

Ren frowned. "I don’t even know you."

"No," the old man agreed. "But I know you."

Cryptic. Great. Another one of those conversations. Ren sighed and turned the watch over in his palm. It was heavier than it should have been, the surface etched with unfamiliar runes. The hands didn’t move. At least, not in any way that made sense.

"What’s wrong with it?" Ren asked.

The old man hesitated. "It’s… complicated."

Ren scoffed. "Then uncomplicate it."

"It doesn’t track time," the old man said. "It tracks you."

The air felt suddenly thin. Ren clenched his jaw, shoving the watch back into the man’s hands. "Look, I don’t want anything to do with this. My father’s dead. My life is my own."

The old man didn’t look surprised. He simply closed Ren’s fingers around the watch and whispered, "For now."

Then, like mist in the morning sun, he was gone.

Ren exhaled sharply, shoving the watch deep into his coat pocket. He wouldn’t think about it. Wouldn’t acknowledge the chill in his bones, or the way the shadows stretched just a little too far as the sun set behind the bell tower.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.