~ Chapter 4: The Price of a Stolen Breath

The sewer tunnels were a maze of slick brick and iron grates. Elara's breath came in short, sharp bursts, the cold air stinging her lungs. Behind her, the violet eyes of the Shadows moved with a terrifying, disjointed rhythm. They didn't run; they flickered, appearing ten feet closer with every heartbeat.

“You have to use me”, the Ouroboros whispered. «The water is rising. The path is blocked. Only I can show you the way out.

“No”, Elara hissed, her boots slipping on a patch of moss. Every time I use you, more of them appear. I won't do it.

“Then you will die in the dark”,the watch replied, its voice smooth and indifferent. And I will wait for the next hand to pick me up. Perhaps Julian's hand. He would not be so hesitant.

Elara reached a junction where three tunnels met. A massive iron gate blocked the central path, and the two side tunnels were flooded with black, churning water. She was trapped. She turned around, her dagger drawn, though she knew it was useless.

The first Shadow emerged from the darkness. It was larger than the one she had seen in her room, its form more solid, more defined. It looked like a man, but its skin was made of swirling smoke, and its face was a blank mask of obsidian. It reached out a hand, and the air around it seemed to freeze.

“Elara…”, it whispered, the sound echoing through the tunnel. Give us the seconds... give us the future…

She backed against the iron gate, the cold metal biting into her spine. Stay back!

The Shadow lunged.

In that moment of pure terror, Elara's instinct took over. She didn't press the crown. She didn't ask for a rewind. Instead, she threw her weight against the gate, searching for a lever, a latch, anything. Her hand caught on a rusted wheel. She turned it with all her strength, the metal screaming in protest.

The gate groaned and began to rise, but it was too slow. The Shadow was inches away, its claws reaching for her throat.

“Now!”, the watch screamed in her mind.

Elara pressed the crown.

The world didn't rewind this time. Instead, it slowed to a crawl. She watched as the Shadow's claws moved toward her in agonizingly slow motion. She could see the individual particles of mist that made up its body. She ducked under its arm and slid through the narrowing gap beneath the rising gate.

On the other side, she scrambled to her feet and turned the wheel in the opposite direction. The gate slammed shut with a thunderous clang, just as the Shadow reached it. The creature slammed into the bars, its body dissipating into smoke before reforming on the other side. It hissed, a sound like steam escaping a pipe, but it couldn't pass through the iron.

Elara leaned against the wall, gasping for air. She looked down at her hands. They were trembling, and the skin on her fingertips looked pale, almost translucent. A dull ache started in her joints, a sensation she recognized from watching Mira.

“What did you do to me?”, she demanded, clutching the watch.

“I gave you a moment of acceleration”, Ouroboros said. But acceleration requires fuel, Elara. You didn't use a rewind, so I took the energy from you. A few weeks of your life. A small price for survival, wouldn't you say?

“You're a parasite”, Elara spat.

“I am a tool”, the watch was corrected. And like any tool, I require maintenance.

She pushed herself away from the wall and continued down the tunnel. The path eventually began to slope upward, the air becoming fresher. She found a ladder leading to a heavy manhole cover and pushed it open.

She emerged into a deserted alleyway on the edge of the Iron District. The sun was beginning to rise, a pale, sickly yellow light filtering through the permanent shroud of smog. She felt exhausted, her body heavy and old. She needed to find Silas and Bram, to see if they had survived the raid.

As she stepped out of the alley, she saw a group of citizens gathered around a public broadcast pillar. A holographic image of Julian hovered in the air, his face handsome and cold, his eyes devoid of any human warmth.

“Citizens of Aethelgard”, Julian's voice boomed through the streets. Due to the recent terrorist activities and the theft of sacred artifacts, the High Council has decreed an emergency measure. Tonight, at the stroke of midnight, a city-wide harvest will commence. Every resident of the Sinks will contribute five years of their life to the state reserve. This is the price of security. This is the price of order.

A collective groan went up from the crowd. Five years. For many in the Sinks, that was all they had left. It was a death sentence.

Elara felt a surge of rage that burned through her fatigue. Julian wasn't just taxing them anymore. He was liquidating them. He was clearing the slums to fuel his own immortality.

She looked at the watch in her hand. Silas was right. This thing was dangerous, but it was also the only weapon they had. She couldn't just hide it. She had to use it to stop the harvest. She had to lead the revolution.

But as she turned to head back toward the rebellion's hidden base, she saw a figure standing at the end of the street. It wasn't an enforcer. It was a woman in a high-collared velvet coat, her face hidden by a wide-brimmed hat.

The woman raised a hand, beckoning Elara to follow.

“Who are you?”, Elara called out.

The woman didn't answer. She turned and vanished into a doorway. Elara hesitated, then followed. She had no other leads, and the Shadows were still out there, waiting for the sun to go down.