A whisper in Hopetown

Gyan stared at the message on his phone long after the screen dimmed.

"The hourglass was never meant to be broken. Be ready."

The phrasing was deliberate, cryptic—meant for him. He hadn't told anyone, not even Lucas or Jordan, about the hourglass etching on the reverse side of the necklace they recovered. Whoever sent the message knew things they shouldn't.

He locked the phone, slid it into his pocket, and paced the room. His thoughts raced back to Victoria. She had taken the larger piece of the necklace with her during the split. They hadn't discussed how long they'd be apart, but there was an unspoken understanding: they'd each lie low, trace the mystery separately, and stay alive. But messages like this one meant time was running out.

---

The next morning, the sun broke lazily through grey clouds. Gyan had barely slept, the cryptic warning replaying in his mind. He found his mother in the garden, pruning the overgrown roses with the same intensity she used when lecturing him about folding laundry.

"You're up early," she said, without looking up.

"I never really slept."

She glanced at him, eyes narrowing. "Still thinking about Charlotte?"

Gyan gave a dry laugh. "Sure. Let's go with that."

She shook her head and went back to pruning. "You always carry something, Gyan. Ever since you were a boy. You don't talk about it, but it's there. In your eyes."

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he knelt and pulled a few weeds from the soil beside her. "You ever think about Dad?" he asked.

"Every day," she said, softly now.

"Do you think he found what he was looking for?"

She paused, the shears still in her hands. "Maybe. But I think... he was chasing something that didn't want to be found."

Gyan said nothing, but her words settled into his chest like stones. The floating city. The relic. The truth.

---

That afternoon, he made his way through Hopetown's old quarter. Cobbled streets, little bell shops, musicians perched on corners—everything felt too peaceful, too removed from the pulse of danger he'd grown used to in Orange City.

He stopped at the university library, slipping into the restricted archives wing with his old keycard. The building hadn't changed. Same dusty halls, same echoing silence. But this time, he wasn't here to study ancient law or the political shifts of the Sky Territories.

He was looking for the hourglass.

He found the reference buried in a folio titled "Relics of the Airborne Age." A single page described it:

> "The Hourglass of A'ven was not time-bound in function, but symbolic—two interlocking halves: one worn, one hidden. Said to regulate the 'Gate of Descent' in the Floating City, allowing passage for those with the proper seal. The hourglass must remain whole. If broken... the Gate opens both ways."

Gyan's pulse spiked. He pulled out his phone again, rereading the message.

"Be ready."

Someone knew the gate could be reopened. But to what end?

He scribbled the passage onto a scrap paper, then left quickly, the sudden sense of being watched crawling up his spine.

---

That night, the doorbell rang.

It was unusual. Hopetown was quiet, and no one ever dropped by without notice—especially not at this hour.

Gyan's mother was in the kitchen, humming to herself. He motioned to her to stay put and approached the door cautiously.

He opened it halfway. Standing on the porch was a young woman with short black hair, a green coat, and firm eyes. Gyan tensed.

"I assume you're Gyan?" she asked.

"Depends who's asking."

"My name's Maren. I was told to find you. Victoria said you'd understand."

His heart skipped. "Victoria? Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's alive. But not safe. She sent me with this." Maren reached into her coat and pulled out a torn piece of parchment, sealed with wax. The Howard family's crest burned into it.

Gyan took it, his fingers trembling as he broke the seal and read the short message inside:

"They're after the map. I can't come back yet. Don't trust anyone wearing the sigil of the Hawk. The Gate is more than a doorway—it's a memory trap. Protect the piece. Destroy it if you must." – V.

Maren added, "She's going underground. There's a bounty on her now. They think she knows where the Gate is."

"I thought the Gate was lost."

"She thinks it might be hidden here, somewhere near Hopetown."

Gyan's blood ran cold. "Why here?"

Maren hesitated, then said, "Because your father built the original mechanism that sealed it."

---

Back inside, Gyan stood at the window again, watching the night deepen. His mother was asleep upstairs, unaware of how quickly her son's world was spiraling into shadow again.

He glanced at the drawer where he had hidden the necklace shard.

The hourglass wasn't just a relic. It was a lock, and now—broken—it had become a key.

And someone else had the second half.

---

Gyan turned to Maren, who now stood silently near the fireplace. "How much did Victoria tell you?"

"Enough to know you're both in danger. Enough to know the floating city's secrets weren't meant to stay buried."

He took a breath and nodded. "Then we'll start tomorrow. We find the hidden Gate. We end this."

As he doused the lights, the hourglass fragment pulsed once in the darkness—like a heartbeat.

"No. Vicky has asked me to inform you that you should lay low and not get involved with these issues as of now. As long as you both stay hidden then no one will be able to find you," Maren said.