There was no reply, only the heavy, rhythmic thud of something being placed on the counter. Elias straightened, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. Standing there was a young girl, no older than ten, drenched to the bone. She wasn't carrying a broken clock or a jammed lock—the usual fare for Oakhaven’s only tinkerer.
Men in dark coats appear at the door, looking for the girl and the cylinder. Continue
Elias reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from the metal. He’d lived in this town for sixty years and knew every gear and bolt in the valley, but he had never seen anything like this. As his skin brushed the brass, the hum spiked into a clear, crystalline note, and for a split second, the rain outside stopped mid-air. There was no reply, only the heavy, rhythmic