Chapter 5
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The moment Lila's fingers touched Elias's, the silver sunlight burned away.
Hollowbrook twisted like a dying animal—the pristine clocktower cracked down its center, the laughing children in the sunflower field froze mid-step, their faces melting like candle wax. The vibrant roses blackened, thorns growing unnaturally long, curling like grasping fingers toward her.
Elias's grip tightened, his skin suddenly cold. *Too* cold.
Lila tried to pull back, but his fingers had fused to hers, their flesh knitting together at the seams. His white eyes darkened, the pupils elongating into thin, vertical slits.
"You said yes," he whispered, but his voice wasn't his own. It dripped with the same hundred whispers that had risen from the earth in her vision. "Now we finish the game."
The ground beneath them split open.
Not into the clockwork guts of the town—but into something worse.
A pit.
Endless.
Hungry.
And filled with *them*.
Dozens—hundreds—of Lilas, all reaching up with silver-scarred arms, their mouths moving in silent screams. Some wore her face from years past. Others were barely recognizable, their features twisted by time and whatever horrors the town had fed them.
At the very bottom, half-buried in the dark, lay the first.
Her skin was parchment-thin, her hair white as bone, her lips sewn shut with the same silver thread Lila had seen in the visions. But her eyes—
Her eyes were wide open.
*Alive.*
And staring right at her.
The other Lilas' hands grabbed at her legs, her waist, her arms, pulling her down into the pit as Elias—"no, not Elias, not anymore
—let go of her hand with a smile."
"Don't worry," the thing wearing his face said. "You'll get used to it."
Then the darkness swallowed her whole.
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The darkness swallowed Lila whole, wrapping around her like a second skin. The air turned thick with the scent of damp earth and rusted metal. She couldn't breathe, couldn't scream—her lungs burned as she tumbled deeper into the abyss.
The other Lilas' hands clawed at her, their fingers leaving trails of silver light across her skin. Their silent screams vibrated through her bones, each one carrying fragments of memories not her own:
- A Lila in a tattered wedding dress, dragging a rusted locket through the dirt
- Another with hollow eyes, whispering to the roots that grew through her ribs
- A child version , curled around the pocket watch like it was a living thing
The pit had no bottom. Only layers.
Level after level of trapped Keepers, each more distorted than the last. Some had become part of the earth itself—their limbs fused with the roots, their mouths sewn shut with thorned vines. Others flickered like ghosts, their forms barely holding together.
At the center of it all hung the First.
Her body floated in the darkness, suspended by silver threads that connected to every other Lila in the pit. The threads pulsed faintly, like veins carrying stolen time.
The First's sewn lips twitched.
The threads *pulled*.
Lila's back arched as agony tore through her scars. The other Lilas shrieked soundlessly, their hands clamping around her arms, her legs, her throat—
—and then she *saw*.
The Truth.
Not the town's lie. Not the looping curse.
The *real* beginning.
A single night, centuries ago, when the First Keeper made her choice:
Not to bind the town.
To bind **herself**.
To split her soul into fragments, each one a new Lila, each one another chance to get it right.
To break the cycle.
To *end* it.
The vision shattered as the First's eyes snapped open—
—and Lila *woke up*.
Alone.
In the sunflower field.
The sky above her burned with an unnatural violet hue. The flowers stood perfectly still, their faces turned toward her in unison.
And sitting cross-legged beside her, picking petals from a black rose, was Clara.
Not the rotting, furious Clara from before.
This one looked *tired*.
"You took your time," she said, tossing the rose aside. Its petals turned to ash before they hit the ground. "The others always wake up screaming."
Lila's voice came out raw. "Where's Elias?"
Clara's smile didn't reach her eyes.
"Oh, Lila." She leaned forward, her yellow dress creasing. "*There is no Elias.*"
The words hung between them like a knife. Lila's scars burned cold, her pulse hammering against the unnatural stillness of the field. Clara plucked another rose from the air—this one fresh, its petals still dewy—and began shredding it methodically.
"You mean the thing wearing his face," Lila said. Her tongue felt too heavy. "The town's puppet."
Clara laughed—a soft, broken sound. She held up the mangled rose. Its stem bled black onto her fingers. "No, I mean there was *never* an Elias. Not really."
The sky darkened as she spoke. The sunflowers trembled, their faces turning away.
"Think," Clara whispered. "When did you first see him?"
Lila's breath hitched. Fragments surfaced:
- A shadow at the edge of her childhood bedroom
- A voice from the alley when no one stood there
- The way his scars matched hers *too* perfectly
Clara leaned closer. Her breath smelled of turned earth. "He's the loop's guardian. The town's favorite mask." She pressed a petal to Lila's wrist scar. It dissolved into silver script—words Elias had spoken to her before:
"You'll forget me again."
"This time... remember me."
"I always find you."
The letters squirmed like worms before sinking into her skin.
"The game resets when you trust him," Clara said. "Every. Single. Time."
A gust of wind ripped through the field. The sunflowers' heads snapped toward the clocktower in unison. Its hands spun wildly, gears grinding loud enough to shake the ground.
Clara stood, offering a hand. Her nails were blackened, her fingers too long. "The others are waiting."
Lila didn't move. "What others?"
The earth split between them. Hundreds of pale hands erupted from the soil, each wrist bearing silver scars. They grasped at Clara's ankles, her dress, her arms—gentle, almost reverent.
"The ones who woke up," Clara said as the hands pulled her down. "The ones who *remembered*."
Her body dissolved into petals mid-descent. The last thing to vanish was her smile—sad and knowing.
The fissure sealed itself.
Silence.
Then—
A pocket watch materialized in midair, its chain slithering around Lila's neck. The face showed no numbers. Only a single word etched where the '12' should be:
**RUN**
The first howl came from the clocktower. It didn't sound human. It didn't sound like anything that should exist.
Lila Run
The howls multiplied, chasing Lila through the twisted streets of Hollowbrook. The cobblestones shifted beneath her feet, rising and falling like a living thing. Shop windows shattered as she passed, glass shards freezing mid-air before reversing direction to trail after her like glittering teeth.
The pocket watch swung wildly against her chest, its chain tightening with each step. The engraved word—**RUN**—pulsed red, casting bloody light on the faceless figures now emerging from doorways. Their silhouettes mirrored hers exactly, down to the silver scars glowing beneath their sleeves.
The clocktower loomed ahead, its hands spinning backward at impossible speeds. The door stood open, revealing only darkness within. A final howl shook the air—close, too close—as Lila crossed the threshold.
Silence.
Then a whisper from the shadows:
"Welcome home, keeper."
The door slammed shut behind her. The pocket watch's chain snapped, its face cracking open to reveal a single sunflower seed nestled where the heart had been. It pulsed once.
And the tower began to chime.
To Be Continued...