AS SOON AS MORI DISAPPEARED INTO THE TOWER, REN STARTED TO CLIMB.

She knew he'd seen her on the bridge, which meant he'd come looking for her. Sure enough, she'd barely reached the narrow ledge above the clock face before she heard Mori call her name.

"Ren?"

Somewhere, a bird chirruped. Wind howled into the silence. Ren crouched behind the low parapet, waiting as he called her name a few more times. She could guess what he'd wanted to talk to her about. The concern in his voice was unmistakeable.

At last, she heard his footsteps recede back into the tower.

She slumped against the stone with a sigh. She hated leaving him in the lurch like this, but Mori was resourceful. He'd sort something out. The defect in the tower was small, but he took it seriously regardless. It was something she'd noticed when they'd first met — that quiet, understated dedication. Arkos was in good hands with him.

The thought made her smile, just for a second. She couldn't remember the last time her mind had been at ease, not since the cataclysm. But knowing Mori was around to take care of the tower brought some relief to her soul. Once she'd sorted out everything in the higher system, and with someone responsible like him looking after the tower, maybe finally — finally — she could relax...

She snorted a laugh. Peace of mind would be too good for her.

She stood up and closed her eyes to the wind. Cool breeze threaded through her hair, whispered in her ears. She didn't have time to relax like this. Not while Suria was still out there, looking for the winding key that unlocked the universe. Now she knew Mori was attending to the defect, she had no reason to be here. But she allowed herself this minute of respite, letting the wind carry her worries from her chest for a few seconds longer.

One day, she'd be able to explain everything to him, and hope that he could forgive her. But for now, she couldn't let Mori rely on her. Arkos was his responsibility. She still had her own to uphold.

And the less she had to do with another clock tower, the better.

The air inside the grand system felt almost tangible. Mori felt it press against his skin as he drifted down through the endless layers of gear and cogs, slowing his descent.

His mind whirled as he fell. He'd been so certain it was Ren up on the tower. Perhaps he'd imagined her, his desperation getting the better of him.

He shook his head. Ren or no Ren, the tower demanded his attention. He could only pray her notes would be enough.

Mori descended through the system for a few minutes more before landing on one of the core gears of the tower — large, heavy gold wheels metres in diameter. He knew the defective gear was still a few metres down, buried behind layers of rotating machinery. To access it, he'd need to stop the section running, pushing the power to one of the backup turrets while he repaired it.

Mori hovered in front of the cogs, eyes flicking between Ren's sketched notes and the system in front of him. He shook his head. They all looked so similar.

Alright, here goes...

He withdrew a tool from his satchel and adjusted the angle of the regulator, twisting slowly until one of the quartz jewels at the centre of the section flickered and went dark. Somewhere behind him, another set of gears sprang to life.

Mori consulted the notes again and nodded. Backup system up and running. He floated down to the affected section of the tower, touching down lightly on the core gear. It still spun, but so slowly it might as well not be moving. Mori crouched in front of the gear train and peered inside.

There you are. With the rest of the area brought almost to a standstill, Mori could hear the rattle of the defective cog within. He spread Ren's notes on the ground in front of him, reading them through a couple of times to familiarise himself. Then he took a long, slender tool from his satchel and got to work.

Forty minutes later, Mori pulled his hands back, tracking the motion of the gears, listening for any out-of-place noise.

Nothing. 

That's...good.

He breathed a sigh of relief; he was nearly there. All he needed to do now was get the main system up and running, and—

A bang shook the tower.

Mori stumbled. The gears he'd just repaired rattled on their axes, spinning wilder and wilder out of control. Fear lurched in his chest.

No­—

The cogs pinged out from the gear train one by one. Mori ducked, stumbling again as another crash shuddered though the tower, ringing in his ears long after the noise stopped.

Then the entire tower pitched to the side, knocking Mori to the ground. The entire contents of his satchel spilled. The box the strange girl had given him tumbled through the air in front of them, dislodging its contents. A burnished, silvery-blue pocket watch floated past Mori. He managed to make out the curious insignia on its cover – seven interlocking rings, each inlaid with a unique floral motif – before Ren reached out to grab it.

Mori stared at her. She floated above him, short dark hair floating around her slender shoulders.

"What happened?" she asked.

Mori shook his head, shock and shame blurring in his mouth. He couldn't read the expression in her eyes, but he knew she must be furious.

"I don't know, something's happened to the tower—"

Ren spun the watch over in her fingers, and her eyes widened.

"Shit," she whispered.

Mori looked at her, trying to swallow the panic rising in his throat. "Ren, what's going on?"

She pushed the timepiece back into his satchel, grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. "We need to go."

The tower shuddered once more. Several more gears dislodged from their stack, tumbling down through the air. Debris rained down around them. One massive gear thundered towards them.

Ren took a small timepiece from her pocket and wound it with two deft twists of her wrist. The collapsing tower froze still, the gear suspended just an arms length above them. Others floated in place throughout the tower.

Mori looked at Ren, heart in his mouth. "The system..."

Ren nodded. "The tower's collapsing."

"What?"

"The timepiece won't last long," Ren said. "Come on."

She took a run-up and leapt off the edge, hanging in the air for a moment before landing on another frozen gear above them. Mori followed, scrambling up the gears after her, heart pounding in his chest.

What could have gone wrong? He'd followed the notes, everything seemed to have worked...why was the tower collapsing? What had he done wrong?

"Ren, wait," he called after her. "Where are we going? We have to do something—"

"We can't," Ren said. "We have to get to the top. It's the only way out."

A circular platform hovered a few metres above them, highlighted in gold. Clock hands whirled around its base like rotors. Ren scrambled up on top of it, Mori a few steps behind.

"Out?" he said. "Ren, we can't leave—"

"There's nothing we can do." Ren extended her hand. "Give me the timepiece."

"You're the clockmaker," he said. "We're here to protect the tower. How can we abandon it right now, when we're needed the most?"

A strange expression flickered over her face, a bizarre mingling of fondness, guilt and pity. "Look, there's no time, Mori."

He backed away, shaking his head. The tower couldn't fall. He'd only tried to fix it, he'd never meant for anything like this to happen...

"Ren, please," he said. Guilt clawed at his voice, hot and frantic. "We have to try—"

The tower flickered. Falling debris, cogs, and scraps of metal, wood and stone, burst back to life. A large core gear smashed into the platform, knocking them both back. Mori hit the ground and rolled, slipping off the edge of the platform.

"Mori!" Ren called after him.

He dropped through the air, landing on his back on another core gear. With a groan, he sat up and looked around him. 

Already the platform was a shrinking disc, too far above him to reach. He caught sight of a smaller gear with a hole in the centre, falling just ahead of him, and an idea formed in his mind. Mori wrenched a metal rod from the falling debris, took a run up across the gear and leapt for it. He jammed the pole into the centre of the falling cog and swung himself round, propelling himself into the air.

His fingers snagged at the edge of the platform. Ren grabbed his wrist and pulled him up with crimson-spattered hands. Mori caught sight of a a deep gash across her thigh from where the gear fragment had cut into it. Blood soaked through her trouser leg and trickled down to her bare feet.

"We're running out of time," she said. "Just give me the timepiece."

His fingers tightened around the pocket watch. "We can't just leave." Not when this was his fault. "There must be something we can do."

Ren shut her eyes and inhaled sharply. Cracks splintered through the walls of the tower, brilliant light piercing into the darkness.

"I can stall it," she said finally. "Just for ten minutes. We'll see if we can find a solution."

Mori's chest lightened with relief. Ten minutes wasn't long, but it was better than nothing.

"But if you can't find anything after ten minutes, we go." Her dark eyes held his. "Deal?"

He nodded. "Deal."

Mori fumbled for the pocket watch and passed it to Ren. She crouched over the centre of the platform and placed the timepiece in a dent in its centre, then twisted the rim on its edge.

Around them, the rumbling grew stronger, until Mori couldn't stand. He fell to his knees as the platform started to split, gold lines spreading beneath their feet.

Ren's eyes flicked to the fragmenting platform. Her fingers manoeuvred more intently, aligning the sigils on the rim with those engraved in the platform's surface. "Come on..." she muttered.

Fragments of the ground peeled away like shards of glass. Wind filled the air, screaming in Mori's ears. The rumbling rose to a deafening roar.

Mori pressed his hands over his ears. "Ren—"

"Give me just a second—" Ren had to shout to be heard over the gale. She twisted the edge of the watch one more, and this time it sunk into the gap with a tiny click.

A moment later, the platform shattered.

"No!" Ren shouted.

Mori flailed, grabbing for something to hold onto, but his fingers grasped empty air. The ground fell away from beneath him. He plunged through the air, an ever-louder ticking noise echoing in his ears. He opened his eyes, staring straight at the timepiece, falling between them. Its face glowed bright white, and its hands whirled, as if trying to reverse time.

Too late, he thought as he fell. There's nothing we can do now.

Only shut his eyes, frantic, muttered prayers on his breath, as the tower crumbled to dust around him.