Instead he grabbed the silver chain in his other hand, and raised it up to show us the clock.
Nothis Life Clock.
Nota chronobank, either.
A Timekeeper Clock spun around in the chain he held. A Timekeeper Clock that was for Timekeepers.
“Silas, what are you doing with that thing in your pocket?” I asked, and I didn’t even recognize my own voice, but I was moving. I’d let go of March and I was moving closer to him.
“I didn’t come here to survive, my friends,” Silas said instead, then wrapped the chain of his clock around his neck. “I didn’t come to play or to become a Hand or to win—I came here for one thing, and one thing only.”
His eyes closed. Others called his name. Reggiebeggedhim—look at me, Sy, just look at me!—but Silas lowered his hands toward the ground instead, palms open, relaxed.
“I came here toexposethem,” he said, his voice calm, even.
The air around him dimmed, became muted, as if the colors themselves were suddenly being drained. His magic bled unlike any I’d ever seen before—outward and in slow, deliberate ribbons of teal.
My jaw touched the ground. His magic was a blue-green glow that looked less like flame and more like illuminated water suspended midair. Less like the smoke that all our magic looked like, and more like pure light.
It hummed as it slipped out of his palms and spread about—or maybe that was Silas. His eyes were closed and he didn’t appear to be breathing at all.
“Silas, stop—what are you doing?!”
The next second,everythingstopped instead.
Time glitched, missed a step, fell. Dust fell, too, upward, and shadows moved about us like they were drunk.
Black tendrils of smoke were suddenly everywhere, coming at us lightning fast, sharp as knives.
Screams, and we all moved closer to Silas, who’d finally opened his eyes.
They locked on mine, wide and horrified. “What are you doing, Silas—what is this?!” I whispered, my body too shocked to produce any actual voice.
But he shook his head as he now looked at the shadows around us.
“That’s not me,” he told me. “It’sthem.”
The next second, the shadows attacked.
They were faster than the clockbeasts, much faster, and they were coming for us from all sides—no.
They were coming for Silas.
Blades were useless, though we tried to swing them at first—but what could blades do against shadows?
And one would wonder, what couldshadowsdo to us, too?!
Theseones could do plenty, it seemed.
They were no ordinary shadows. They grabbed us like they were the tentacles of some giant monster, like they had substance, like they were made out of bone and flesh and blood. They pushed us out of their way with such ease none of us stood a chance.
Suddenly I was flying in the air, and the blade slipped from my fingers just as my body slammed hard against the ground on my side. My eyes were wide open, though—I thought I was too shocked to pass out, even if I hit my head.
Before the second was over, before I’d even drawn in a breath, I was on my feet, trying to see through the darkness, trying to find the others, and I did. March was ahead of me to my right, trying to push himself to stand. A little fartheraway, Helen and Erith were holding onto each other, barely keeping their balance, and?—
“SILAS!” someone screamed—could have been Mimi. I was running before I knew it, and March was right behind me, and Silas was on the ground, half lying, half sitting against the trunk of a tree, the shadows still hovering over his torso.
Reggie was already there, grabbing him by the shoulders, shaking him, pulling him to sit upright.
