The Town Where Clocks Don’t Tick

They didn't speak on the walk back through the velvet rooted tunnel.

The air felt different charged, uneasy. Mira gripped the black key so tightly her fingers ached. It had cooled, but the faint crack running down its center still pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat.

Lucan's sleeve was rolled up. He kept looking at the mark on his wrist like he expected it to disappear. But it didn't.

When they finally stepped out into the clearing, the archway had already sealed itself behind them roots reclaiming the stone like it had never opened.

They walked in silence until they reached the old tracks near Mira's house.

Then Lucan stopped.

"I wasn't lying," he said suddenly. "About not remembering any of that. The fire. The house. The locket."

Mira nodded. "I believe you."

He looked at her with something between guilt and relief. "But that memory… it was real. I felt it."

She exhaled, unsure of what to say. She could still smell the smoke. Still hear the child's voice.

They didn't go inside right away. Instead, they sat on the rusted bench by the old railway. Mira turned the black key over in her hand, thinking about the tree's words:

Two keys. Two locks. Two choices. One must remember. One must forget.

"What if the keys aren't meant to unlock something physical?" she said.

Lucan glanced at her. "What else would they be for?"

She held up the cracked key. "What if they unlock us?"

He stared.

"Think about it," she said. "The voices. The visions. The locket. That mirror showing another me. And now a tree that speaks in riddles and shows you memories you didn't know were yours?"

Lucan was silent for a long moment. Then he whispered, "And what if the version of me that remembers isn't the version I want to be?"

Mira didn't answer.

Because she was wondering the same thing.

That night, she couldn't sleep.

Not because of nightmares those had become routine but because the second key wouldn't stop humming. She placed it on her desk. Tried moving it to her dresser. Her closet. Even the drawer under her bed.

Still, it hummed.

It wanted something.

At midnight, she gave in. She took it out, held it tight, and asked:

"Where's the second lock?"

The key glowed.

And then her notebook opened itself.

Its pages flipped rapidly, stopping halfway through. Mira stared.

A sketch she hadn't made stared back.

A door.

Not just a door an unwritten one. Blank. Featureless. Except for a small symbol at the center: the same spiral etched into Lucan's wrist.

The words beneath the drawing reads:

The door that doesn't exist until someone believes in it.

Mira ran her finger over the ink.

It smudged like it had only just been drawn.

Then, in the space beside the door, new handwriting appeared hers, but not hers.

"Third mirror. Third night. Third breath. Find the place where time stood still. There, the key will know the way."

A shiver raced down her spine.

She reached for her phone.

Mira: Meet me at the clock tower tomorrow. 3:00 sharp. Don't ask why. Bring your mark.

She hit send before she could change her mind.

Downstairs, something creaked.

Not the floorboards. Not the fridge settling.

A deliberate sound.

Mira crept to the stairwell.

And saw nothing.

Except…

The mirror at the end of the hall. The tall one, untouched since her mother died.

It was fogged over, though there was no moisture in the air.

And in its reflection a door.

Where none existed.