Anthesis of Sadness
Chapter 56: Tempus Ardente

Chapter 56: Tempus Ardente

We had eaten everything. And when I say everything, I mean down to the last fruit scale, the last drop of nectar, and even the fruit-skin chips I thought were just decorative.

But the most surprising thing in all this... was Lysara. Sitting cross-legged in front of the cart, she had devoured. Silent, but with an almost animal intensity. Her black eyes fixed on each fruit like a prey. She bit, licked, swallowed, drank... as if she had never been allowed to eat for pleasure.

I watched her between two sips of Fireblood.

— You know you’re supposed to eat slowly, right?

She didn’t answer.

But she looked up, a piece of Night Scale between her fingers.

— It’s too good, she whispered.

I raised an eyebrow, amused.

— Wow. Three words in a row. You’re really opening up this morning.

She looked down, a slight shiver crossing her shoulders.

But she added, softly:

— Thank you... for yesterday.

I stopped chewing.

— You mean... the wine, the awkward confessions, and me hugging you almost in tears?

She slowly nodded.

I sighed, setting down my empty cup.

— I said what I meant. Even if I was drunk, it doesn’t change anything. You’re part of my life now. That’s non-negotiable.

She said nothing.

But she smiled. A real smile. Almost shy.

I pointed at her, mock-menacing.

— But next time, try to leave one or two fruits, huh? I’m the one paying, kid.

She lowered her head, smiling more, and murmured:

— I’ll leave you one. Maybe.

An hour later, we went down by the private elevator, warm light sliding over the walls of black glass. I was shaved, dressed, clear-headed, and still a little surprised by the deep calm inside me.

But that calm was broken when we reached the lobby. The receptionist awaited us, still as upright, hands folded in front of him.

His gaze landed on me, sharp as a blade.

— Sir... we received a letter for you.

I squinted.

— A letter? From whom?

He handed me a parchment sealed with black wax, marked with a symbol I didn’t recognize: an eye ringed with flames.

— From the Lord himself.

I froze for a moment, then a grin split my lips.

— Well... that didn’t take long.

I chuckled softly. I’d gambled big. I’d paid like a noble. And I had just entered their line of sight. I didn’t spend half my fortune for nothing, after all.

I took the letter, slipped it into my coat, and turned to Lysara.

— Come on. Looks like the real business is starting.

She nodded.

And together, we stepped out into the streets of Zagnaroth, the warm wind sweeping our kimonos.

I didn’t wait. Barely out on the scorching cobblestones of Zagnaroth, I broke the black wax seal. An eye of flames. Deeply impressed into the wax.

I opened the parchment.

The paper was dense, coal-black, adorned with letters branded in red iron, as if each word had been burned directly into the fiber.

"To the foreigner clad in shadow and silver.

Your recent activities have not escaped my notice. Nor your expenses.

One does not walk through Zagnaroth like a prince without raising heads.

I am curious.

You are invited to appear, at first dusk, at the Throne of Scoria, south wing of the Citadel.

Whether you come out of curiosity, ambition, or boldness... it is all the same to me.

But come.

— Xagros, Lord of the Furnace, Son of Lava, Master of Silent Steel, Sovereign of Zagnaroth."

I remained still.

The words still floated before my eyes, each line like a hammer blow on an invisible anvil.

— Xagros...

I blinked slowly.

— The Lord himself...

A laugh escaped me.

Short. Muffled.

But real.

— Damn. This is even better than I thought.

I looked around, as if to make sure the world hadn’t changed while I was reading.

But no.

Everything was still there.

Zagnaroth still rumbled.

The wind still smelled like forge.

But me...

I had just stepped from shadow into light.

And that light burned.

I slowly slid the letter into my coat, then looked at Lysara, who calmly stared at me.

— Get ready. We’re going to meet a god of metal and fire.

She nodded.

Together, we headed toward the city, hearts beating to the rhythm of the forges. And we had barely started walking when a kid, no older than Lysara, approached me with the boldness of a well-mannered thief.

— Hello, what a coincidence to meet a noble like you...

I stared at him, amused.

— What do you want, smart guy?

— I can guide you through the city. Just three krag.

— Three? You’re targeting rich foreigners, huh? Good strategy. I approve.

He smiled, proud of himself.

— So, deal?

— I’ll pay you later. Take me to the most luxurious watch shop in the city.

— This way, dear sir.

And a few streets later, he stopped.

And now, we were there.

I stopped short.

Before me stood the jewel of time.

A shop carved into a block of smoothed volcanic rock, reinforced with polished red metal, like a forge-heart frozen in stone.

The walls vibrated softly, etched with fine mechanical engravings where enchanted gears turned, inlaid with onyx and black silver.

A giant showcase, without a visible frame, let exotic watches float in levitation: ringed with solidified lava, eternal glass, cursed mother-of-pearl or abyssal quartz.

They slowly spun on themselves, as if in orbit around an invisible sun. Each one vibrated. Each one had a presence.

Above the entrance, a plaque of forged steel displayed a name in misty letters, almost alive:

Tempus Ardente, Mastery of Time — Pride of Zagnaroth

A perfumed steam escaped from discreet vents, diffusing a warm breath mixed with oil and sweet sulfur.

Two obsidian lanterns beat softly like hearts hanging from golden chains.

And at the center of the door, a strangely animated sundial marked neither noon nor midnight, but the phases of the Furnace: Scoria Dawn, Ember Tide, Steel Zenith, Burning Decline, Ashen Slumber...

Time here was not a line.

It was a burning cycle.

I stood there a moment, still, eyes fixed on the storefront.

— Yeah... it’s perfect.

I placed my hand on the shop’s handle... But before entering, I turned slightly, and without even looking, slipped a derk into the kid’s hand.

He received it like a treasure.

His eyes lit up briefly, but he said nothing.

Just a small nod, respectful. Professional.

I tossed him:

— Keep it up. You’ll become a lord faster than you think.

And without waiting for a reply, I pushed open the door to Tempus Ardente.

The kingdom of time awaited me.

Upon entering, I saw him.

The seller wasn’t a demon as I would have imagined, but a dwarf, old, hunched, bearded to the chest, fingers broad and streaked with ancient burns, dressed in a cracked leather jacket and a black apron adorned with enchanted gears.

I greeted him, simply.

— Hello. I’m a young enthusiast... Could you offer me a watch on a necklace, with Twilight hours?

He looked up, examined me for a moment, then replied in a rough but polite voice:

— Of course. A world-time watch, then? Dawn and Twilight hours included, I understand.

His clear eyes weighed me for another moment.

— Which range?

I smiled.

— Your finest.

He narrowed his eyes, then nodded with an approving grunt.

A very brief frown.

— Hm. There is... something about you. As if time hesitated around you.

He briefly disappeared behind the counter, rummaging through a series of rune-reinforced drawers.

Then he returned, slowly, holding a small volcanic stone box hand-carved.

The dwarf slowly opened the box.

A breath of warmth emanated, almost imperceptible, as if time itself had slipped out silently.

Inside, a watch.

Not a standard watch. Not a commercial item. A relic.

It hung in its case like an inverted drop, attached to a chain of shadow and pale gold, its dial slightly tilted, vibrating gently under the light.

I stared silently, unable to guess what I had before me.

But him... the old dwarf, he was already smiling.

It wasn’t a sale.

It was a transmission.

He placed his calloused fingers near the watch and declared in a calm tone:

— The dial is carved from translucent Malacite, a stone of balance. It reacts to the temporal pressure around the wearer. What you see there, he pointed to the filaments of light rippling beneath the surface, are perception flows. Each line is influenced by your emotions, your rhythm, your decisions.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

He continued:

— The outer structure is a fusion between Abyssium, a metal extracted from crater roots, and Noctifer. This blend absorbs light. But more importantly... it breathes. It recognizes its wearer. You’ll see: after a few days, it will tune to you. Like a secondary heart.

I lowered my eyes to the dark metal, which indeed seemed to faintly pulse.

— And the chain?

— Shadow filaments woven under moonlight, linked by astral gold links. Each link bears an inscription in a forgotten language, recovered from the ruins of the Sealed Empire. No one knows what they say. But they watch. They protect.

I touched the chain with my fingertips. It was cold... and yet, it vibrated.

A vision briefly struck me — a field of ashes, a held breath, a black star suspended — then nothing.As if the watch had judged me, then accepted me.

— And that phoenix at the bottom?

The dwarf smiled.

— Symbol of Zagnaroth. But reversed. The fire that rebirths... in reverse. A watch created for those who don’t wait for fate to call them back. It doesn’t just mark time.

It reminds you that yours is never guaranteed.

I stayed silent a moment.

Then I looked up at him.

— And the hands? They move... even when it’s still.

— Because they search. They hesitate between two futures. They don’t trace time. They track it.

I felt a shiver down my neck.

As my eyes were still fixed on the watch, the old dwarf added in a quiet tone:

— It also has two abilities.

I slowly turned my head to him, my mouth already half open, my gaze a bit blank.

He didn’t let me react.

He continued.

Impassive.

— You’ll learn them instinctively, once it’s bonded to you. It’s a living connection. Organic. And irreversible.

He paused, gaze lowered to the object, almost with reverence.

— The first... is the Mark of Presence.

He raised a finger, as if drawing something in the air.

— The watch can anchor an invisible magical trace in a place, or on an object. It’s an imprint, tied to your exact aura.

Thanks to it, you can find a precise location, even through magical distortions.

And if an ally is linked to you by ritual, they’ll be able to feel this mark... like a whisper through space.

I felt a chill run down my spine.

This was tracking. Tagging. Bonding.

— It can hold three marks simultaneously. Erasable by pure will. Or by a counter-ritual.

My mouth opened more with every word.

I couldn’t believe I was holding this.

Me.

I slowly nodded.

Useful. Precious. Priceless.

But he wasn’t finished.

And the second ability... was something else.

— The second, he said, is much rarer. And more dangerous to explain.

He looked me straight in the eyes.

— It’s called... Lunar Reminiscence.

The name alone gave me a chill.

He continued, in a grave voice:

— When imminent death is detected, I mean certain fall, fatal wound, or destruction of your soul, the watch activates a unique phenomenon: a sacred temporal rupture.

— It projects your consciousness... exactly one second before the moment of your death.

I frowned, already hanging on his words.

— One second?

— Yes. But that second, you experience it in a state of total hyper-perception. The world slows down. Details become clear. And in that breach, you can choose. Another action. A final word. Or an impossible attempt. But a true one. Real. Perhaps even saving.

He paused a moment.

— It’s the most important second of your life. Or of your end.

I felt my throat tighten.

— What’s the limit? I asked.

The dwarf took a deep breath.

— This ability can only be used... roughly once a year. It only recharges under the Blood Full Moon, a rare phenomenon, dependent on a precise cosmic alignment. Until then, the watch remains dormant. The crystal heart dulls. It becomes cold, inert.

He placed a finger on the inverted phoenix at the bottom of the dial.

— When that mark fades, you’ll know it’s already been used. And that the next chance...

...depends on the sky, not on you.

I stood there, speechless.

One second before the end.

One second to come back, or choose how to leave.

A single chance. Not two. Not three.

It might only save me once... But that day... it would be enough. Or not.

I said nothing.

Then, without a word, he opened a small drawer beneath the counter.

Pulled out a rolled parchment, sealed with a red thread.

He unrolled it with precise motion, then laid it before me, flat.

— And here is... your invoice.

I looked down.

Official Invoice – Tempus Ardente, Magical Horology House

Item: Chronogem – unique modelCertified fabrication, expert craftsmanship under runic oath.Noble materials, bi-temporal calibration.

Materials: 51.1 DrekEnchantments: 500 DrekLabor & rituals: 380 DrekFinal price: 931.1 drek = 93.11 zarn = 9.31 varkh

I slowly looked up, one eyebrow raised.

— Nine point three varkh, huh...

The dwarf didn’t flinch.

— It’s the most stable item you can wear on your wrist. It will outlive you. Maybe even prevent you from dying once or twice.

I let out a short, dry laugh.

— I hope so. Otherwise I’ll ask for a posthumous refund.

I rummaged through my satchel, and slowly counted the coins.

9 varkh.

Each one placed with care.

It wasn’t just gold. It was a bet. A conviction.

I pushed the sum toward him, thinking:

I could have bought a house... but I chose a second.

The dwarf stashed the coins without a word, then said, still calmly:

— It doesn’t speak. It listens. And it remembers.

And as I left the shop, the watch still warm in the hollow of my palm, I slowly slipped it around my wrist — but it didn’t attach like a regular watch.

The supple chain, made of shadow filaments woven with astral gold, let the watch hang outward, forming an inverted drop that gently swung with each of my movements.

I could hold it in my hand, naturally, without even thinking. Like some clutch a talisman, a cross, a relic.

It rested in my palm as if it had always been there.

The translucent Malacite dial, vibrating under the light, seemed to watch me.

The claw-shaped hands hadn’t stopped. They still oscillated.

Ready. In silence.

A watch for the wrist... But made for the hand. The heart. The final prayer.

I carried a sealed memory, a suspended choice, a last second.

And I had paid... the fair price.

To check, I used my identification power.

Identification (Adept) – Name: Chronogem | Rank: Legendary | Bound to its bearer, the Chronogem represents the culmination of work by several world-renowned artificers.

My mouth parted in shock.

So that was it, the power of money?A legendary-rank artifact — wasn’t that completely overpowered?