Chapter 1
Kian Lorne had always been good at finding junk that wasn't quite junk.
He crouched low, the knees of his worn cargo pants stained with oil and mud, and flicked his flashlight across the wreckage. The scrapyard stretched for miles—rusted towers of broken drones, shattered solar panels, and the occasional relic of a world that barely remembered its past. Thunder cracked overhead, but no rain came. Just heat. And static.
He liked it here.
Out here, no one asked questions. Not about the scars on his wrist. Not about his mother's silence. Not about the fact that his father had vanished three years ago and left behind nothing but a drawer full of unpaid bills and a locked metal box Kian still couldn't crack.
He aimed his flashlight into a collapsed heap of circuit boards, something glinting beneath the dirt. He pried it free—looked like an old analog watch. Weird. Who even used these anymore?
It was heavy. Too heavy. Smooth metal, tarnished, but with a faint shimmer under the grime. Not a brand he recognized. The glass face was scratched, but the hands weren't moving. No numbers, just strange etchings along the rim. Symbols, almost like runes or glyphs.
And when he touched the dial—just brushed it—
—the world hiccupped.
A sharp noise cut through the air like a blade dragging through metal. His flashlight flickered. The towers of scrap around him wavered, blurred, then snapped back.
Kian's heart raced. He dropped the watch.
But it didn't hit the ground.
It hovered, spinning slowly in midair, glowing faintly blue. Symbols along the rim pulsed once. Twice. Then—
click.
The second hand jerked forward.
Just once.
And the sky split.
Only for a second, but it was enough. Above the swirling clouds, a rift like a crack in a mirror flared open. Lightning flickered inside it, but it was the silence that chilled him—total, absolute quiet in the middle of a storm.
Then it was gone. The watch dropped to the dirt with a dull thunk.
Kian stumbled back, breath ragged, every instinct in his body screaming leave it.
But curiosity was louder.
He picked up the watch. Slipped it into his jacket pocket.
And as he turned to leave, he didn't see the silhouette watching him from the edge of the yard. Hooded. Still.
Waiting.