Episode 3 ~ A Heart That Ticks

Written by StillnessandSilence

Calliope sat in the room of clocks and gears, surrounded by an endless ticking that seemed to harmonize with the steady beat of her clockwork heart. Honey-brown curls framed her face, their soft sheen reflected in the glass faces around her. She stood in stillness, listening to the mechanical symphony, when a faint, unfamiliar giggle broke the silence. It was strange—a man’s laugh, carrying an oddly intimate warmth, as though meant just for her.

Yet her emotions felt muted, dulled since her heart’s transformation. Did that sound stir anything within her? She couldn’t be sure. Had anyone ever truly moved her, even before? Her new companions were intriguing, albeit bold. Arnos, for example, had singed her shirt just to listen to her heart’s tick—a brazen act she hadn’t resisted. She found herself captivated by his fiery dwarven beard, alive with tiny embers that flickered and glowed. In a moment of curiosity, she’d finally reached out to touch it. Surprisingly soft, the flames didn’t burn her; instead, they felt warm and oddly comforting, like pulsing embers beneath her fingers. She marveled at the sensation, uncertain if it should stir anything deeper within her.

Gideon’s strong, steady presence provided a companionship she found unexpectedly pleasant, while Arlo remained a bit of a mystery to her but was jovial and kind. Sumit, was brave and thankfully, had emerged from his coma, the curse broken and her own life no longer in immediate jeopardy. Elizabeth, though appearing even frailer than Calliope herself, added a touch of levity she enjoyed.

The journey to the Pocketlands had been mostly uneventful, save for a floating island of ants that briefly stirred their curiosity. At least Arlo had managed to dispel the lingering scent of fish by infusing the air with a hint of cinnamon—a thoughtful touch she appreciated. During that journey, she’d discovered that both Arlo and Arnos had once saved her from a dark spirit she hadn’t even known was there, back when she was a mere mortal, unable to see magic. She wondered now how that moment might have felt had she known then what she was capable of today.

When they arrived, they met Orthen, a figure of quiet elegance, someone Calliope might admire as she would a work of art. He seemed like the sort who’d appreciate the curiosities at Obscura Antiques, his age and bearing adding to his allure. Her fingers drifted often to the necklace around her neck, the one Jessica had warned her not to remove. Its presence comforted her, though she didn’t yet understand why.

Not long after their arrival, they found themselves locked in battle with strange elemental creatures. Calliope was grateful for Sumit’s cover as she fought, and she could’ve sworn she heard that faint laugh again, teasing and near. Sumit had shielded her from a deadly strike, and she made a mental note to thank him later. Just ahead, Gideon, undeterred by the flames, grappled a blazing fire elemental and hurled it into an ice elemental with ferocious momentum. The collision unleashed a blinding cloud of steam, and the resulting heat seared her. Calliope, watching from nearby, felt a pang of surprise at her resilience and courage. She was still adjusting to her own use of magic—it was strange, like channeling something she’d only begun to understand.

After the battle, Orthen guided them to the palace to rest. Exhausted, Calliope finally drifted into sleep, but her dreams were unusual, tinged with faint sensations—a subtle pressure at her waist, like the trace of a hand. There was no warmth, no familiar surge of emotion, yet the presence lingered softly at the edges of her awareness, as though it were reaching out.

In her dreams, the sensation deepened, strange and unfamiliar, stirring a distant ache she didn’t know how to name. What did it want from her? She wasn’t even sure she understood what it meant to yearn anymore. Her heart continued to tick with precise indifference, but her mind was left to wander, touching something just beyond her grasp. The faint, intimate laugh sounded again, trailing off like a whisper in the dark. When she awoke, alone, she reflexively reached for the necklace around her neck. Her own touch felt real, grounding.

This feeling—whatever it was—had eluded her understanding, and she wondered how she could explain it to the others, or if she ever would.

Next Episode 4 ~ The Chill of Time