Hana Greaves's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Hana half-carried Vera across the ice. The old woman's boots dragged. Her lips had gone gray. The cryo-frost still slowed her blood, and every step cost them time they didn't have. "Faster," Hana said. "We have to reach the vine before—" She never finished. She knew the loop's clock in her bones now. Vera stumbled and dropped. Her knees hit the ice hard. "Can't," she breathed. "My legs won't answer." She blinked up at Hana, slow, like the sky was too bright. Hana grabbed under her arms and pulled. Vera slid a few feet, then stopped. She weighed too much. The vine sat far across the plain, spores glowing pale. Hana would never drag her there in time. "You'll snap back frozen," Hana said. "Every loop, worse." Her voice cracked. Vera was the only one who remembered. If Vera died here, Hana would wake alone again, guessing. A shadow crossed them. Hana spun. A man stood on the ice, thin as a blade, robed in dark cloth hung with clocks. Pocket watches swung from chains at his chest. His eyes glowed purple. He walked without haste, as if he owned every second. A six-legged beast trailed behind him, broad-backed and patient, breath steaming in the cold. "You're fighting the wrong thing," the man said. "You fight the clock. I bend it." He crouched by Vera and pressed two fingers to her throat. "Chronwell. I've watched your loops turn. You never make it this far." Hana didn't trust him. His smile sat wrong. But Vera was slipping, and this stranger moved like he knew the loop's inner gears. "Then help," Hana said. "Or move." Erasmus Chronwell lifted one hand. A watch on his chest ticked backward. The air thickened. Hana felt the loop's pull stretch, like a rope pulled slack. The snap-back she always felt coming grew distant. "A few minutes," he said. "No more. I stall the reset. You use it." He nodded at the beast. "It carries her faster than you drag her." Hana understood. She heaved Vera up and draped her over the beast's wide back. The animal held still, steady under the weight. Vera clutched its fur with numb fingers. "Go," Chronwell said. His eyes never left Hana. "But know this. Nothing I give is free." Hana slapped the beast's flank and ran beside it. Its six legs ate the distance. The vine grew closer, spores flaring white. For the first time, she was going to reach it with Vera alive. They stopped at the vine's edge. Vera breathed. Frost still clung to her hair, but her chest rose and fell. She had made it. Hana turned to thank the chronomancer. He was already watching her from across the ice, hands folded, patient as the beast. Whatever price he meant, he would collect it. But Vera lived, and the vine was finally in reach.