Story from the Aether Library: Morwenna Triskel and the Twelfth Blow

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The Aether Library never slept. Even when no reader entered its aisles, the shelves breathed softly, and somewhere, gears clanked as if counting the seconds of eternity. In a secluded reading room, between the registers of unanswered questions and the arched shelves of possible futures, stood Morwenna Triskel. Her body was a composition of polished brass and delicate veins of starlight glowing beneath its surface. On her head, she wore a crooked wizard's hat adorned with small, ticking gears. Her large, deep-blue, glass-lensed eyes reflected the warm light of the lamp she held in one hand. Her other hand clutched a scroll of parchment that unfolded beneath her gaze as if of its own accord. Today, she searched for the "twelfth strike"—a moment recorded in no calendar or clock. Library legends said this strike sounded only when time itself made a mistake. Some claimed it opened doors to rooms that otherwise existed only in dreams. Morwenna placed the lamp on the table and, with precise movements, pulled out a sheaf of maps, each one inscribed with fine lines that moved like breath. She laid them out, and golden sparks began to dance between the sheets, as if they had long known the way. "Interesting," she hummed softly, her inner gears spinning faster. The sparks formed a spiral that pointed into the northernmost wing of the library—the area that could only be entered when a clock struck eleven times and then... fell silent. She set off, her footsteps echoing softly between the shelves. Above her, the high dome swept, the shadow of a gigantic pendulum clock hovering within it. When she reached the described location, she saw an inconspicuous door that one might think was merely decorative. But in the dim light of her lamp, a tiny lock in the shape of a clock gleamed in its center. Morwenna lifted the small key she always carried with her—made from the first cogwheel ever forged in the library. It fit perfectly. A soft click, and the door opened. Beyond lay a circular chamber, filled with a golden haze. A clock hovered in the center, its hands motionless. Instead, tiny shards of starlight sparkled between the numbers. Morwenna stepped closer and placed her hand against the clock face. At that moment, it sounded—the twelfth strike. Not a loud clang, but a deep, vibrating note that resonated through her metal limbs and into her mind. For a split second, she saw countless doors, each leading to a different time, a different place. She could have chosen any one. But she only smiled and let the strike fade away. Some secrets, she knew, were more valuable if not solved immediately. When she closed the door behind her, the library was as silent as before. Only her inner gears ticked quietly – to the rhythm of an hour that only she had heard.