You're on it—let's dive into Chapter Ten of
The world was folding in on itself.
Jonah and Thorne ran through the mist-drenched trees, the echo of shattering clocks chasing them like thunderclaps. Behind them, the field of time had begun to unravel—one tick at a time.
They didn't speak until they were deep in the woods, gasping for breath.
Jonah collapsed against a fallen log, chest heaving. "She was real."
Thorne didn't look at him. "She shouldn't be. But yes. She was."
"And the Revenant—he's not just chasing her. He's chasing me now."
Thorne nodded slowly, then knelt and unrolled a weathered map from his coat pocket. It wasn't paper—it looked like woven threads of light and ink.
A Timeweft.
Jonah watched as it shifted beneath Thorne's fingers. Dozens of glowing paths flickered across the map, each one leading to a different moment.
"Three possible junctions," Thorne muttered. "Three shatterpoints."
"What's a shatterpoint?" Jonah asked.
Thorne tapped a glowing mark on the map. "Places in time where history wants to break. Moments of weakness. One of them is where Evelyne first died. One is where Bellamy made the Heartwind. And the third…"
He stopped, brow furrowed.
Jonah leaned in. "What?"
"…is you."
The glowing map reshaped itself. One of the timelines spiraled around Jonah's name.
"You're a walking shatterpoint now," Thorne said. "The Heartwind chose you. That makes your choices more dangerous than mine."
Jonah's head spun. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"No one does," Thorne said softly. "But some people matter more when the gears start breaking."
A silence fell between them.
Jonah sat back, still gripping the silver watch. "If we go back to when Evelyne died… can we fix it? Can we stop her from becoming the Revenant?"
"That depends," Thorne said. "Do you think Bellamy was wrong to try?"
Jonah hesitated.
He thought of Evelyne's eyes—half-real, half-forgotten. Her voice shaking as she said time was indifferent.
"I think he loved her," Jonah said. "But love isn't always enough."
Thorne gave a small, sad smile.
"Good answer."
He folded the map. "We go to the first shatterpoint. Evelyne's moment."
Jonah stood. "And if the Revenant shows up?"
Thorne looked him straight in the eyes.
"Then you make your first real choice."
—
The timejump wasn't like before.
This one hurt.
Thorne activated the anchor disk built into his cane, and the world bent like glass dipped in heat. The trees around them stretched into shadows. Colors melted. Sounds reversed.
And then—
Silence.
Jonah opened his eyes.
They stood on a cobbled street under gaslight. Snow fell in slow, syrupy flakes. A brass streetcar clanked by in the distance.
Across the road stood a girl—Evelyne.
Not a ghost. Not a shadow.
Her. Alive. Laughing.
She stood under the awning of a clock shop, smiling up at someone inside. The moment shimmered with warmth.
Jonah felt something twist in his chest. "She looks… happy."
"She was," Thorne said.
And then, the air tightened.
The Revenant was near.
Jonah turned—and saw him at the end of the street. Towering. Faceless. Cloaked in warped reflections of time. Clocks spilled from his sleeves, gears embedded in his limbs.
He raised one hand toward Evelyne.
And the snow froze midair.
Thorne stepped forward. "This is it."
Jonah's heart raced.
He could stop it. Run to her. Shove her away. Interfere.
But Thorne grabbed his arm.
"If you move now, the loop might fracture again—worse than before. You need to choose carefully. Because whatever you do—you'll remember it. Even if time doesn't."
Jonah looked at Evelyne. The girl who would become the Revenant.
Then at the monster watching her.
And for the first time, he realized—they weren't separate.
They were the same story.
The same clock.
Just told out of order.