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In the center of the square, a young girl named Maya was the only other person moving. She held a small, rusted music box Elias had sold her weeks prior.

Elias knelt beside her, his old joints popping like dry twigs. He took the music box and saw the issue: a tiny, silver hairspring had snagged on a burr of rust. But it wasn't just the music box—the spring had somehow tethered itself to the local "Aura of Time," a phenomenon Elias had only read about in ancient, leather-bound manuals. 5_6302999227119175357MP4

Maya beamed and took her music box back. "Thank you, Elias." In the center of the square, a young