Chapter 17 · When the Dead Gears Wake

"Stop it. Just—shut the hell up!" Milo slammed his shoulder against the brick wall, his teeth gritted so hard he thought they'd snap.

Inside his chest, the engine wasn't just humming anymore. It was screaming. A rhythmic, violent pulse of golden light flared beneath his skin, syncing perfectly with the frantic beat of the heart hammering against Lena’s ribs.

"I can't shut it up if you're feeding it!" Lena hissed. She was pressed flush against him, her chest heaving. The sigil-cuffs were still locked tight, the cold iron biting into both their wrists, but the tether between them was humming like a live wire. Every time Milo’s heart spiked, Lena gasped, her pupils blowing wide.

"I'm not feeding it anything!" Milo barked, his voice cracking. "It's doing this on its own!"

Around them, the market was descending into a mechanical fever dream. In the stalls, rusted clock-springs began to uncoil. Dead steam-valves hissed. A pile of discarded brass gears on a nearby table suddenly spun, shrieking as they ground against each other without a power source.