The vault smelled like cold iron and old earth.
Jonah followed Thorne down the stone steps, each footfall echoing like it didn't belong in this world. The lantern's light wavered against walls lined with etched metal panels—like enormous, unmoving gears built into the rock itself.
"This wasn't meant to be found," Thorne muttered. "Not unless the failsafe failed."
Jonah ran a hand along the wall. "So we've failed already?"
Thorne gave a humorless chuckle. "No. Bellamy failed. We're just living in the consequences."
At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor opened into a circular chamber. There were no clocks here—only stillness, and a strange humming vibration Jonah could feel in his bones.
At the center of the room stood a cylindrical column of glass, cracked and dusted with time.
Inside it—hovering in suspension—was a man.
Or what was left of one.
He wore a long coat similar to Thorne's, though much older. The brass chain of a pocket watch looped from one side of his chest to the other. His hands were pressed against the inside of the glass, fingers stiff, as if frozen mid-reach.
But it was his face that stopped Jonah.
The man's eyes were open. Not dead. Not quite alive. Glowing faintly with a dull golden light, and staring straight ahead.
"Who… who is that?" Jonah asked, barely able to breathe.
"The First Watcher," Thorne said, removing his hat. "His name was Auren Cale. Bellamy's friend. And the first person to test the Heartwind."
Jonah took a step closer. "He doesn't look… real."
"He's not," Thorne said. "Not fully. Bellamy suspended him at the moment of collapse—when the Heartwind backfired. Locked him in a time-sheath to stop the damage from spreading."
"Wait," Jonah said, heart quickening. "You mean he's alive in there?"
Thorne paused. "Not in the way you think."
Then, as if responding to the conversation, the lights in the vault dimmed.
The glass column pulsed once.
And then—
> "Hello, Jonah."
Jonah staggered back. The voice hadn't come from the Watcher's mouth—but from everywhere.
It was Bellamy's voice.
Not distant. Not echoing from a machine.
Present.
A panel opened in the wall. Light flickered, revealing a projection—Bellamy himself, seated at a workbench, eyes tired but sharp. Not a hologram. Not a ghost. A recorded moment, caught in living time.
"If you're hearing this," Bellamy said, "then the Heartwind has been activated by someone new. That means the Revenant has stirred."
He glanced off-screen.
"It also means I've failed to prevent what's coming."
Jonah's mouth was dry. "He knew."
"He built toward this," Thorne muttered.
Bellamy's projection leaned forward.
"I need you to listen closely. The Revenant is not a thing I made by mistake. It is a memory I tried to bury—my greatest regret, my greatest invention, and my greatest sin. It was once a person."
Jonah felt the floor sway beneath him.
> "Her name was Evelyne."
The name hit like a stone dropped in deep water. Thorne stiffened.
Bellamy continued. "She wasn't supposed to die. I… made a machine to go back. Just a few minutes. Just long enough to stop it. But the moment I turned back time—she vanished. The timeline didn't hold."
The projection flickered, briefly glitching.
"I created an echo. A version of her with no anchor. A shadow that remembers dying. She became the Revenant—not by will, but by pain. A ghost held together by the sheer force of her erasure."
Jonah stared in horror. "He turned someone into that… thing?"
"He tried to save her," Thorne said quietly. "And the timeline punished him."
Bellamy's eyes softened.
"If you've come this far, then maybe—just maybe—you can do what I couldn't. Maybe you can choose differently. But you'll need to learn to see time as it is—not a line, but a loop. A gear."
He reached toward the screen.
"And beware the Timebreakers. Some of them will wear familiar faces."
The recording ended.
Silence returned.
Then, with a soft hiss, the glass column surrounding Auren Cale cracked again. The glowing eyes blinked once.
Jonah backed away. "Is he waking up?"
Thorne's grip on his cane tightened. "No. Something else is."
Jonah's pocket grew warm.
The silver watch.
He pulled it out—and saw that it wasn't ticking anymore.
Instead, the hands spun backward.
Thorne's eyes widened. "It's begun. The loop's collapsing."
The floor shook.
From far above, the sound of clocks ticking wildly echoed down into the chamber—then stopped all at once.
Jonah looked to Thorne.
"What do we do now?"
Thorne turned toward the stairs, eyes blazing.
"We find Evelyne's last moment. And we break the loop before she does.