Written in Sand
Description
IT WAS HOW this one hourglass in particular finished quicker than all the others, that had caught Zitao's attention at first. Puzzlement, and curiousity of why this hourglass, this person, had always managed to die at a rather young age. He had pushed it back of course, it was his duty as a Chronomancer to just turn them around, not investigate of how anyone lived or died. He was simply there to observe and restart lifecycles. So after decades upon decades of following this rule, why was this person, this hourglass, so important for him to finally crack?
Foreword
THE SAND FILTERED through the small opening, quicker and quicker, before stopping completely. My fingers twitched as I gave a shaky breath, picking up the lone hourglass that had caught my attention long ago, and turned it over. The cool glass chilling my skin as I held it in my hand, staring at it longingly as my palms returned to its heated state, slowly; the clock ringing in my ears at its constant slow pace, tick tock tick tock, with its occasional shrill cry at the beginning of noon.
It seemed it was time to start over.
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