The Watchmaker's Will"
The pendulum, which had swung with a rhythmic, reassuring heartbeat for generations, stopped dead in the center.
"It's happening," Devashish whispered, his voice barely cutting through the thick silence. He stepped closer to the corner, his eyes reflecting the pale moonlight filtering through the tall glass windows.
The clock's hands, previously aligned perfectly at twelve, began to move backward with terrifying speed. Eleven. Ten. Nine. They whirled past the Roman numerals until they snapped violently back to the top. But the ticking did not resume. Instead, a hidden latch hidden behind the carved wooden crown of the clock released with a dull thud.