2. The Clock That Would Not Die

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Chapter 2: The Clock That Would Not Die

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983 AN

Aug 22

This city was allergic to stability.

Ashryn crouched at the edge of a half-built scaffold, balancing effortlessly on one foot while chewing the stem of a rusted screwdriver she didn't need. Below her, the Southern Sump moved like a half-drunk snake—slow, hissing, and liable to bite itself out of confusion.

She squinted down at the workers reassembling the cracked filter line.

"Clock's ticking, people! If the pipes aren't aligned in ten minutes, I'm naming the leak after whoever installed it, and I swear I'll make it legendary!"

No one questioned her. They just worked faster.

Ashryn grinned and leaned back against a beam, fingers laced behind her head.

Okay. Slightly unhinged pep talk? Delivered. Authority re-established.

Now let's see if the damn pressure valves don't burst again.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Cael.

Ashryn didn't turn. "Tell me Strath did something stupid."

Cael stepped up beside her, sleeves rolled to the elbow, ledger under one arm, glasses crooked on his nose. He was lean and slightly taller than her, with tousled light brown hair that caught the ambient light and black eyes that always looked five thoughts ahead. His skin was wheat-toned, somewhere between pale and sun-worn, like someone who'd grown up in the undercity but didn't let it cling to him.

"He lit another fire," Cael said flatly. "Depot's intact. No one hurt. Just smoke and idiocy."

Ashryn groaned dramatically, rolling onto her back along the beam. "Ugh. Can't he pick up knitting or something?"

"He's a baron, not a grandma."

"He can be both," Ashryn muttered. "I multitask."

Cael glanced at her with that dry, unamused look he'd perfected. "You call chaos multitasking?"

"I call it vision."

He smirked. "You call everything vision."

"And I'm still winning."

Cael chuckled under his breath. "God help us when you start losing. We'll all probably evolve gills and start praying to smoke."

Ashryn raised an eyebrow. "You just described progress, my friend."

A boy jogged up, cheeks flushed and sleeves soaked in coolant.

"Pipes are pressurized," he panted. "Core's running clean."

Ashryn crouched to his level, grabbed both shoulders, and beamed at him like he'd invented fire.

"You, my friend, are a miracle. Soup tokens for you. Two."

The boy blinked. "There's soup?"

"There will be. Eventually. Probably. I'm manifesting it."

He ran off, confused but proud.

Ashryn stood and cracked her neck. "Alright, clocktower check-in."

A calm voice answered before she could shout again.

"It's holding."

Lynne appeared beside them, clipboard in one hand, strange ticking watch in the other. She was a bit shorter than Ashryn, her figure sleek but distinct—D-cup breasts under her fitted coat, hips balanced to match. Straight black hair framed her face with sharp precision, and her fair skin glowed slightly in the lowlight haze. Her dark brown eyes scanned the site, missing absolutely nothing.

"Anchor frame's stable," Lynne continued. "Welders are halfway through reinforcement. No slippage."

Ashryn let out a long, fake sigh and clutched her chest. "I could cry. For once, something in Zaun isn't falling apart under me."

Lynne scribbled something down without reacting. Probably wrote delusional optimism remains consistent.

Ashryn quipped,"why did even have that clipboard? You don't even need it!"

Lynne replied calmly,"to look the part."

The three walked across the scaffold. Below, power conduits were snaking across old concrete, glowing faint blue. Crates of distillate were stacked beside reclaimed metal. A faint mechanical hum pulsed underfoot.

It wasn't pretty. But it was beating. That was enough.

Cael flipped through numbers on his datapad. "Strath's got three trade routes left. One of them you just stepped on. His west-end debt is leveraged to hell. I'm buying out his scrap supply before sundown."

Ashryn's eyes gleamed. "So he'll owe me his shoes by tomorrow?"

"Only if he still owns them."

Ashryn grinned. "Let him try something. I'm ready to pivot into petty vengeance and aggressive urban renewal."

"You always are," Cael muttered.

She stopped abruptly, staring across the valley. In the distance, the crumbling silhouette of the old courthouse loomed through the haze. A monument to everything lost.

Ten years ago, it collapsed.

And so did her old life.

They called it the Day of the Ashes.

They called it justice.

They were wrong.

Ashryn's fingers twitched once by her side. Not from fear. From memory.

That was the day Zaun burned... and the day I became Ashryn. (From ash and rebirth.)

Lynne watched her, silent. Not cold—never cold—but composed. Loyal in ways that didn't need speeches.

Ashryn didn't speak for a moment. Then she turned and asked quietly, "Do you ever think we should call this place something else?"

Cael blinked. "Zaun?"

Ashryn nodded. "It's what they say when they want to blame us. 'The Zaun Problem.' I want something that means what we're becoming. Not what we were. Something like... I don't know... the City of Change."

Lynne was already tapping something into her notes. "Virelle."

Ashryn tilted her head. "Virelle?"

"Old Shuriman root. Roughly translates to transformation or renewal."

Ashryn blinked. Then grinned slowly. "You two are terrifying."

Cael made a mark in his ledger. "We're organized."

Ashryn gave a soft, crooked smile. "Perfect."

She stretched, coat flaring slightly, and called out to the welders on the next beam. "You finish by nightfall, you get triple pay and one joke told directly by me. Choose your fate."

One of the welders shouted, "I'll take the money!"

Ashryn cupped her hands around her mouth. "Wrong answer! Now you get both!"

Lynne sighed quietly.

Cael just shook his head. "She's going to run a city like this, isn't she?"

"She already is," Lynne said.

Ashryn caught the end of that as she returned. "Damn right I am."

The three of them stopped at the edge of the platform, surveying the work below. It wasn't a kingdom. Not yet.

But it would be.

Ashryn's smile faded into something softer. She glanced at the others.

"You two still in?"

Cael shrugged. "I'm allergic to poverty. You're a cure."

Lynne gave a crisp nod. "I believe in the plan."

Ashryn felt something settle in her chest.

No crown. No system yet.

But she had them.

And right now, that was enough.

And soon… it wouldn't just be enough.

It would be everything.

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