They didn't speak as they climbed out of the vault.
The night was still. The field of clocks had gone completely silent—every last one frozen mid-tick. The air felt thick, like they were wading through syrup instead of wind.
Jonah clutched the silver watch in his coat pocket, feeling the cold burn of its reversed ticking. He couldn't stop hearing that name.
Evelyne.
She wasn't a monster.
She was someone Bellamy had tried to save. And now… she was the Revenant.
At the edge of the field, Thorne stopped suddenly. "We're not alone."
Jonah followed his gaze.
A figure was moving between the clocks. Not flickering. Not vanishing. Real. She moved slowly, brushing her hand across the faces of old watches like she was choosing one.
A girl. His age. Brown coat, short black boots, and a braid trailing down her back.
Jonah stepped forward. "Hello?"
The girl turned, startled.
Jonah froze.
He knew her face.
But not from life.
> From a photograph.
One he'd seen in Bellamy's journals.
Evelyne.
Her expression changed the moment she saw him. "You shouldn't be here."
Thorne was already stepping between them, protective. "You're not supposed to exist."
"I don't," she replied softly.
Jonah felt lightheaded. "Are you… real?"
Evelyne looked at him with eyes that shimmered like mercury. "I remember being. That's enough."
She stepped closer. "You've seen the vault. You know what I became."
"I don't think you became anything," Jonah said. "I think you were left behind."
Her lip trembled.
"I tried to move forward. But I kept snapping back. Every time I walked away, the world... forgot me."
She looked at the clocks around them.
"They're all echoes of my last day. Pieces of it. I leave them behind without meaning to."
Thorne tensed. "You're a fracture."
"I'm a warning," she snapped. "You think time is cruel? It's worse. It's indifferent."
The wind picked up again. A soft ticking sound rose beneath their feet.
Evelyne looked at Jonah.
"You activated the Heartwind. That means it's happening again."
He hesitated. "What is?"
"The breaking."
Behind her, a dozen of the frozen clocks suddenly exploded in a shower of brass and glass.
Jonah shielded his eyes. "What's happening?!"
Thorne grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back. "She's losing hold!"
"No!" Evelyne shouted, panic flooding her voice. "It's not me—it's him!"
From the shadows beyond the field came a low groaning chime. Like a cathedral bell heard underwater.
And then—a shape moved at the tree line.
Tall. Wide. Hollow.
Not just a figure this time. A presence.
The Revenant.
Evelyne's eyes widened. "He's found you. You have to go—now!"
"But—"
"No time!" she cried.
A gust of wind blasted through the field. Dozens more clocks shattered in a chain reaction. Evelyne turned and ran into the mist, vanishing before Jonah could call after her.
Thorne shoved him hard. "We move!"
They sprinted toward the treeline, the very ground behind them crumbling into non-time—a pale fog that erased anything it touched.
The Revenant stepped into the field. Slowly.
Watching.
Not chasing.
Not yet.
Jonah didn't look back.
Not even when he felt the watch in his pocket stop ticking entire.