Or he could do what the seventh forgemaster had intended: wear it. Let it anchor him to the now . Use it not to change the past or see the future, but to make the right choice in the single second that mattered.
He had a choice.
He almost tossed it. But his broken watch, the one his father had given him, flickered to life for a single second. The hands spun backward. spark 7 t
Leo pried it open. Inside, nestled in crushed velvet, lay a single, dull tooth. No鈥攏ot a tooth. A gear. A tiny, cog-like thing no bigger than his thumbnail. It was cold. Dead. Or he could do what the seventh forgemaster
That night, in his shipping container home, Leo touched the gear to the watch鈥檚 exposed springs. A click . Then a whir . Then a light鈥攏ot yellow, but silver 鈥攑oured out. He had a choice
He slipped it into his watch.
The junkyard was quiet, save for the drip of condensation off rusted girders. Leo, a scavenger with quick fingers and a broken watch, hated the quiet. It meant the other scavengers had already picked the place clean.
