The Town Where Clocks Don’t Tick

The wind had changed.

Mira stood at the edge of Mirror Creek, the locket warm against her palm, its faint hum now gone still. Around her, the woods rustled like restless sleepers. The world felt expectant as if holding its breath. Morning light seeped slowly through the trees, washing the forest in ghostly hues of gold and blue. She turned instinctively, half expecting the boy in velvet. But someone else emerged through the shifting fog.

Lucan.

He walked as if the woods recognized him, moved aside for him. A pinecone cracked beneath his step. He was barefoot again, his sweater stretched at the elbows, eyes unreadable but something about him was different now,Calmer. More awake.

"You saw it," he said softly.

Mira didn't answer at first. Her hand curled tighter around the locket.

"How did you know where I was?"

Lucan stepped closer, his voice low. "The Velvet Labyrinth leaves a trace. You come back with your skin humming. With a look in your eye that says you've seen things that don't quite belong here."

He gestured to the locket. "And you come back with something."

Mira looked down. "This was my mother's. She threw it into the creek the day she disappeared. But it was in there. Waiting."

"Because this place doesn't let go," he said. "Not of people, Not of things, Not of time."

She turned toward him fully. "You've been through something, too."

Lucan hesitated, then gave a half nod. "Once. I was ten. Wandered too deep into Hollow Grove. I came back, but I left something behind. I think it was my voice." He glanced at her, a small smile ghosting his lips. "I didn't speak for a year after that."

Mira blinked. "Why?"

"Because I was afraid if I opened my mouth, something else would speak through me."

They walked in silence, the locket pulsing gently between Mira's fingers like a second heartbeat. Back at the edge of town, the streetlamps flickered lazily, as though waking from some old dream.

Her house stood quiet and squat, the ivy curling around the roof like a secret.

They didn't go in yet.

Instead, Mira unlatched the journal from her bag and let it fall open.

More ink had appeared, curling and fresh:

Time doesn't heal here it hides. What you see is never the whole picture. Trust the locket, Mira. It's more than memory it's a map.

And beneath it, that eerie, delicate drawing a lightnin split tree, stark against a paper-white sky. The Old Thorne Tree.

Mira looked up sharply. "This wasn't here before. I swear."

Lucan studied the sketch. "The tree's real. It's in the hollow, past the grove. Locals think it's cursed. Weird things happen there."

"Have you been?"

"Only once. I was dared. I don't remember much. Just that it was loud, in a quiet way."

They set off before the town truly woke. As they passed the square, Mira glanced at the clocktower. Still stuck at 3:17.

No one ever questioned that anymore.

Soon they reached the edge of the woods again, where civilization fell away and Isurun exhaled its secrets into the trees. The Hollow Grove greeted them with silence, leaves damp and heavy underfoot. Everything felt warped, as though time had thickened.

At the grove's heart stood the Thorne Tree, blackened and skeletal, its trunk cleaved by lightning long ago. Despite its lifeless look, there was something undeniably alive about it an energy that hummed beneath the bark.

Scattered at its base were forgotten things a rusted tricycle wheel, a cracked porcelain doll, half of a harmonica.

Lucan stopped just short. "Do you feel that?"

Mira nodded. "Like it's listening."

She stepped forward and raised the locket.

The second it touched the bark, something deep in the earth stirred.

The locket flew open not by force, but as though it recognized the tree. Inside was no photo, no engraving. Just a single violet, perfectly pressed, its color somehw recent.

Lucan sucked in a breath. "That flower…"

Mira stared. "It marked the chapter in her favorite book. The one she told me never to read."

Lucan turned to her slowly. "Do you still have it?"

"Yes," she said. "In the attic."

Before either could say more, the tree groaned. A gust of wind shot through the clearing whipping Mira's hair across her face. The locket trembled.

Then came the voice.

Soft,Feminine, Familiar.

"Not all chapters are meant to be closed."

Mira's throat tightened. "Did you hear"

Lucan grabbed her hand. "Yes, Come on."

They ran not out of fear, but necessity. Like if they didn't move now, the woods might close around them.

As they stepped past the boundary of the grove, the wind fell still again. The locket, though silent, felt heavier.

They walked in silence for a while, until Lucan said quietly, "I think the book isn't just a clue."

Mira nodded. "It's a key."

And she knew what she'd do next go into the attic, find the book, and finally read the chapter her mother begged her never to touch.

Whatever lay in those pages, it was time to open them