Me | The Devil In

With a guttural roar, Elias didn't strike Sterling. Instead, he grabbed his heavy brass loupe and smashed it into the obsidian heart of the Chronometer.

"It’s not me," Elias would tell himself, gripping the edge of his workbench until his knuckles turned white. "It’s the best of you," the shadow would retort. the devil in me

"You’re working too hard," the reflection whispered. The voice didn't come from the air; it vibrated inside Elias’s own teeth. With a guttural roar, Elias didn't strike Sterling

Elias was a restorer of rare clocks—a man of silent rooms and microscopic precision. His life was a collection of steady heartbeats and rhythmic ticking until he found the Solstice Chronometer in a damp cellar in Prague. It was a jagged piece of brass and obsidian, said to be crafted by a monk who had tried to map the exact frequency of the human soul. "It’s the best of you," the shadow would retort

That night, the "Devil" introduced himself. Not with horns or brimstone, but with an extra shadow. Elias stood in his bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and noticed his reflection was three seconds behind. While Elias looked tired, the man in the mirror looked electric . He was grinning a predatory, wide-toothed grin that Elias hadn't used in a decade.

Elias sat in the silence, his hands bleeding from the shards. He looked back at the mirror. His reflection was perfectly synced again. He looked tired. He looked old. He looked human.