"Stop squirming, or I'll leave your wrist in the cuff," Cael snapped.
His voice was a low rasp. He didn't look up, too focused on the jagged piece of metal he was jamming into my shackles.
I froze. The stone floor was ice, but the heat radiating from him was worse. He was too close. I could smell old leather, gunpowder, and that sharp, metallic scent—like ozone before a storm.
"You remember," I whispered. My throat felt like it was full of glass. "The blood. The crowd. You remember me dying."
Cael finally looked at me. His eyes weren't kind. They were haunted, exhausted by a war I hadn't even fought yet. He gripped my wrist—too tight—and yanked me forward until my chest brushed his tactical vest.
"I've watched you die four times, Mara," he said. No pity. Just cold facts. "Four different ways. Once by the blade, once by the bell, and twice because you're stupid. You're a lot louder when you're screaming for your brother."
I flinched, trying to yank away, but he pinned my wrist to the floor with the weight of his palm. He was a commander; I was a condemned trainee in a thin shift. The power gap was absolute.
"Why help me?" I spat. "You hate me. You blamed me for the South Gate massacre."
"I still do." His gaze dropped to my lips for a heartbeat before snapping back to my eyes. "But you're the only one who can enter the reset point. You're my ticket out of this hellhole, and I'm not letting my ticket get executed again. Bad for morale."
*Click.*
The cuff snapped open. He didn't move his hand. He lingered, his thumb brushing the pulse point of my wrist. My heart hammered against my ribs. I could feel the calloused texture of his skin, the raw strength held back by a thin thread of discipline.
"Get up," he commanded, releasing me so fast I nearly tipped over. "Seline will be here in three minutes. If she catches us, she won't just execute you. She'll make it a ritual."
I scrambled up, legs shaking. "Who is she? Why the bells? The people turning into puppets... what's happening to the city?"
Cael sighed, pure irritation. He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me toward the iron door. "You want a history lesson while the city burns? Focus, Vey. We hit the archive before the next bell or we're just looping until we forget who we are."
"Forget?" I stopped dead. "What do you mean?"
He turned, his face hardening. He stepped back into my space, looming over me, forcing my head back. "Every time you reset, you lose something. A memory. A face. A name. Eventually, you're just a ghost in a living body. Tell me—do you still remember your brother's middle name?"
I opened my mouth. And for one second, there was nothing. A void. A hole where the answer should be.
Panic surged. Cold. Suffocating.
"I... I do," I lied. My voice trembled.
Cael leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Liar. You're already slipping." He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "That's why you need me. I'm the anchor. I remember everything you lose. Which means you belong to me until this is over."
"I don't belong to anyone," I snapped, shoving him.
He didn't budge. He just looked at me, bored. "You're a prisoner with no allies, no memory, and a death sentence that resets every thirteen minutes. You belong to whoever keeps you alive. Right now, that's me."
He reached into his belt and pulled out a blackened iron band—a dampener. Before I could blink, he lunged. His hand clamped around the back of my neck, forcing me forward, and he snapped the metal around my throat.
Static electricity surged through my spine. I gasped, clutching the collar.
"What the hell is this?"
"A leash," Cael said, stepping back and crossing his arms. "It syncs our resonance. If you run, or try to reset without me, I'll feel it. I can pull you back from the edge of a loop if you get too far gone."
"I hate you," I whispered. The metal felt heavy. Invasive.
"Get in line," he replied. "Now move. The bells are about to shift."
We blurred through the corridors of the Holy City. Grey stone. Flickering torches. Every shadow felt like a predator. The silence was eerie, humming. We passed a citizen—standing perfectly still, eyes milky and wide, staring at nothing.
"Don't touch them," Cael warned, hand on his blade. "Once the thirteenth bell hits, they'll tear you apart just to see what's inside."
"Why?" I whispered. "This isn't a normal massacre."
"It's a harvest," Cael said, voice tight. "Seline is tuning the city. The bells are the instrument, the people are the strings. She's looking for the frequency that opens the Gate of Aeons."
I shivered. "My brother... was he part of it?"
Cael stopped. For the first time, I saw something other than cynicism. Regret. "Your brother was a Bell-Warden, Mara. A real one. He knew the secret of the thirteenth chime. That's why he disappeared. And that's why Seline needs you."
We hit the base of the Great Bell Tower. A monolith of obsidian and gold. The air vibrated, a low thrum that made my teeth ache.
Cael pushed the heavy oak doors. The hinges screamed. He scanned the room, eyes darting from the spiral stairs to the shadows.
"Stay close," he commanded. "And don't make a sound."
But as we stepped into the center, a voice cut through. Faint. Distorted. It wasn't the bell. It was coming from the walls. From the air.
*"Mara..."
I froze. My heart leaped. "Leo?"
"Don't," Cael hissed, grabbing my arm. "It's a trick. The tower mimics what you want to hear."
*"Mara, please... it's so cold. Help me..."
It was him. The same crack in the tone. The same desperation. I ripped my arm away, stepping toward the shimmering veil of the inner sanctum.
"Leo!" I screamed.
A violent chime echoed—not the full bell, but a warning. The ground shuddered. The veil shifted, revealing the archive beyond.
And there, pressed against the glass of a containment cell, was a hand. Pale. Trembling. It looked exactly like my brother's.
He was scratching a single word into the frost:
*RUN.*