The ground trembled.
Jonah didn't have to look up to know the Archive was near. He could feel it. A weight pressing down, not on his body, but on time itself.
Evelyne squeezed his hand. "Jonah, what do we do?"
Jonah looked toward the horizon. The snow had stopped falling. The sky above Glimmertide rippled, like a pane of glass cracking, a thousand reflections of moments colliding. He could see everything.
Every choice, every second, every mistake and triumph.
And somewhere in that web, the Archive watched him.
"It's watching me," Jonah said, barely able to breathe. "It's… it knows everything about me."
"No," Thorne interrupted, stepping forward. "It knows everything about time. And it has no interest in you. It has interest in the second you're carrying."
Evelyne frowned. "Why would it care about one stolen second?"
"Because," Thorne said, voice low, "if the second isn't put back, time as we know it will start to unravel. Fracture. The Archive exists to maintain the balance of existence. If it can't fix what was broken, it'll reset everything."
Jonah's chest tightened. "Reset?"
"Erase it all," Thorne said, looking towards the horizon. "Every moment, every choice. History will be rewritten. You will be erased."
Evelyne stepped closer to Jonah, her voice firm. "We won't let it happen. Not after everything we've been through."
Jonah nodded. "No. We won't."
Thorne turned to face them. "Then we must face the Archive. It won't be easy. It doesn't care about us. It only cares about time."
---
The wind picked up as they walked toward the center of Glimmertide. The village was still silent, every building unchanged. Time seemed to hold its breath.
Jonah felt it.
He could feel the Archive watching—its gaze like a thousand mirrors turning on him all at once. The seconds stretched thinner, as if the world itself was suspended on a single, fragile thread.
Then, they arrived.
At the heart of the town stood the Tower of Seconds. It was taller than any building Jonah had ever seen, its spire disappearing into the shifting sky above. The tower's surface was covered in intricate carvings, clock faces, and moving gears that seemed to spin out of sync with the world around them.
At the base of the tower stood a door, but not a door in the traditional sense.
It was a passage—woven together from the very fabric of time itself, faintly glowing with the silver light Jonah had come to recognize. The moment he stepped forward, the door began to hum, pulling him toward it.
"Are you sure about this?" Evelyne asked, her voice strained with uncertainty.
Jonah turned to her. "We don't have a choice. If we don't face it now, everything will fall apart."
She nodded, her eyes resolute.
Jonah stepped through the door.
---
Inside the Tower, time didn't just move. It breathed. The walls seemed to shift and pulse with life, each heartbeat a different age, a different memory. Shadows flickered past—figures from the past and future, moving between moments like ghosts. There were whispers, echoes of a thousand stories lost to time.
At the center of the chamber stood a figure.
It was not human.
Not entirely.
It was tall, shrouded in a cloak made of shifting gears and clockwork. Its face was hidden, but Jonah could feel its presence like a thousand eyes. And those eyes—they saw everything.
> "You've come," the Archive said, its voice a chorus of a thousand whispers, all speaking at once. "To bargain with time."
Jonah stood tall, despite the weight of the Archive's gaze. "I didn't come to bargain. I came to fix what was broken."
The figure moved closer, its form shifting, changing. It was as if the Archive had no fixed shape. It was everywhere and nowhere.
> "Time is not broken," the Archive replied. "It is constant. It is unyielding. But you…" The figure's hand raised, and Jonah felt the weight of the stolen second press against his chest. "You, boy, have brought chaos."
"I didn't ask for this," Jonah said, feeling the tick pulse beneath his skin. "I didn't choose it. It chose me."
The Archive tilted its head. > "It chose wrong."
Jonah took a step forward. "What happens if I give it back? If I release it? What will happen to me?"
> "You will cease to exist as you are," the Archive said. "The second will return. But you will be nothing more than a shadow in the fabric of time. A flicker. A passing moment with no beginning and no end."
Jonah's heart raced. The consequences were dire. But what choice did he have?
"Then," he said, taking another step, "I accept the cost."
The Archive paused.
> "You are foolish," it said softly. "But that is what makes you human. You choose. And you will bear the weight of that choice for all time."
Jonah closed his eyes and reached inside himself.
He felt the tick, pulsing, thrumming like a heartbeat of its own. He grasped it, and for a moment, he felt the entire weight of the world settle on him—on his shoulders, his chest, his mind.
Then, with a final breath, he let it go.
---
The world stopped.
Not in the way Jonah had felt it freeze before. This was different. This was the end of everything.
Then—slowly, the world began to spin again.
Time reformed.
Jonah opened his eyes.
Evelyne stood in front of him, her face bright with relief. Thorne was beside her, his expression unreadable.
And the Archive—was gone.