Cybee Cogsworth's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Cybee walked through the industrial quarter where metal towers leaned against each other like drunk giants. Smoke rose from chimneys built into the sides of massive rusted pipes. His mechanical arms hung at his sides, their brass joints catching the orange glow from furnaces. He had come here searching for more information about portal arrivals, but the district itself fascinated him. Workers hammered at metal sheets while steam hissed from valves overhead. A crane lifted scrap into a sorting facility shaped like an upturned hat. Everything here served a purpose, built from salvaged pieces and broken dreams. The Rabbit Hole wasn't just a prison. It was a living machine, grinding forward with everyone trapped inside it. He left the industrial quarter as the sun began to set. The path back toward the merchant district cut through a stretch of forest he hadn't noticed before. Trees grew between metal posts and rusted pipes, their roots wrapped around old machinery. One tree caught his attention. A thick vine climbed up its trunk in a spiral pattern. The vine's surface wasn't smooth like normal plants. Instead, it had ridges shaped like tiny cogs and wheels, each one connected to the next in an impossible chain. Cybee touched the vine with his brass fingers. The cog pattern felt real, not carved or painted. The Rabbit Hole grew things that matched its mechanical heart. Even nature here bent to fit the gears and steam. He pulled his hand away and kept walking. His enemy had pushed him into a world that changed everything it touched, but that same world was giving him tools to fight back. Tomorrow he would visit the Steam Gardens and search for more witnesses. Tonight, he would rest knowing the hunt continued. Deeper into the forest, Cybee found a clearing where flowers grew in neat rows. He stopped walking. Each flower had a clock face at its center, with tiny hands that ticked forward in perfect rhythm. The petals ranged from deep purple to bright yellow, but every center showed a different time. One flower read three o'clock. Another showed half past seven. Cybee crouched down and watched the second hands sweep across the clock faces. Time moved differently in the Rabbit Hole, stretched and bent like everything else here. These flowers marked moments that might never come again. He stood and brushed dirt from his coat. The Steam Gardens could wait one more day. He had leads to follow and witnesses to question. His enemy was somewhere in this twisted world, and these strange flowers reminded him that every second mattered. Cybee turned back toward his burrow, his mechanical arms humming softly as he walked through the darkening forest. The path led him back to the town square where the Temporal Steampunk Post stood tall at the center. Broken clocks decorated the metal structure from base to top, their hands frozen at different times. Directional arrows jutted out in all directions, each one pointing to a time rather than a place. A sign hung near the bottom that read "Even broken clocks are right twice a day." Cybee had passed this landmark dozens of times, but tonight it held new meaning. The clock-flowers in the forest tracked time that moved. These clocks marked time that had stopped. His life had stopped the moment someone pushed him through the portal. Now he was moving again, gathering clues and building a case against his enemy. Cybee looked up at the broken clock faces one more time, then headed toward his burrow. Tomorrow he would continue his hunt. Tonight, the Rabbit Hole had shown him that even broken things could serve a purpose.