Chapter 4: Ticking Lessons

Chapter 4: Ticking Lessons

The storm stretched into the afternoon, drumming softly against the windows of Elias’s workshop. Mira remained by the fire, drying her socks and occasionally stealing glances at the old man as he worked. Elias moved with the same quiet purpose as the ticking clocks surrounding them—each step precise, each breath deliberate.

After a long silence, Elias spoke without turning.

“Do you know how a watch works, Mira?”

She looked down at the one in her hands. “Not really. Just that you wind it, and it ticks.”

He chuckled—soft, kind, and perhaps a little sad. “Winding is just the beginning. The true magic is inside. Tiny pieces, all working together in harmony. If one gear falters—even slightly—the whole thing stops. Like the world.”

She furrowed her brow. “The world?”

Elias stood and walked to a shelf where dozens of small tools sat lined in neat rows. He handed her a loupe, the kind a jeweler might wear. Then he brought over a disassembled timepiece and set it on the workbench between them.

“The heart of a watch,” he said, pointing to the balance wheel. “This part keeps time steady. Without it, everything spins out of control. The gear train transfers energy, the escapement regulates it, and the mainspring drives it all.”

Mira leaned in, her breath caught in her throat. The pieces looked impossibly delicate—like tiny constellations carved into brass.

“Watches are like people,” Elias said. “Each part depends on the others. Alone, they’re useless. But together, they make something that lasts.”

She looked at him with new eyes. “Did you teach my father?”

Elias didn’t answer right away. He adjusted the magnifying glass above them and turned a gear ever so slightly. “I’ve taught many. Some listen. Some don’t. But the craft always remembers those who try.”

Mira placed the repaired watch on the table. “Could I try? To fix one?”

Elias raised a snowy eyebrow, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “You want to learn?”

She nodded. “Yes. I want to understand it. All of it.”

There was a pause—a quiet, powerful moment—as if the clocks themselves had stopped to listen. Then Elias opened a drawer and pulled out a small, broken travel clock. Its face was cracked, the hands missing.

“Then begin with this,” he said. “Strip it down. Learn every part. When you can put it back together, and it ticks, you’ll have taken your first step.”

Mira’s fingers trembled slightly as she accepted the task, but determination lit her eyes. As the rain whispered its lullaby and gears turned gently around her, she began to disassemble the clock, guided by Elias’s steady voice.

And in the shadows behind them, The Heart of Time stood still—but no longer silent.

For the first time in years, Elias thought he heard something—a soft tremble deep within its frame.

A faint, rhythmic echo.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

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