Dread Mage

“How do you sleep?” Languor asked Sonder, his eyes scanning over Sonder like a healer searching for an illness.

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sonder found herself puzzled by it.

"Um, well enough, I suppose?" she responded, a note of uncertainty lingering in her tone.

"No, that's not what I meant," Languor clarified, his forefinger directing her attention down to her chest. "Given the rather unusual circumstance of a massive piece of metal embedded in your sternum, it's clear to me that you've been granted some form of immortality or extended lifespan. It also appears to have minimal impact on your daily comforts. I would venture to guess that you've had to adapt your sleeping habits—you aren't able to sleep on your back or stomach, are you?"

“I sleep on my side. I used to sleep on my stomach, but I've adjusted to my situation."

A quiet chuckle escaped Languor's lips. He spoke to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. "A heart of iron, though you are still soft."

“I’m not soft,” Sonder frowned at the remark, crossing her arms defensively.

"It was just a lighthearted comment, nothing more; think nothing of it."

Turning his attention to one of his drawers, he rummaged through its contents before pulling out a couple of objects. One appeared to be an old-fashioned pocket watch, while the other was a small, seemingly insignificant metal ball.

He handed both of them to Sonder.

He extended his hand, offering both items to Sonder. "Swallow the ball and ensure that the watch remains with you at all times," he instructed.

Sonder held the objects in her hands. "What’re these?"

"They're pieces of magical machinery, born from my own imagination and craftsmanship," Languor explained. "They serve to maintain a relative measure of time between a specific individual and another machine."

“Relative to which machine?”

Languor's face broke into a wide grin at her question. He moved towards a nondescript section of the wall, revealing an intricate panel hidden behind. It was an interface of sorts, unlike anything Sonder had ever seen.

"This is my life's work," he declared proudly, sweeping his hand over the interface. "The result of years of tireless effort. It maintains the absolute measure of time. I haven't given it a name yet, but I'm considering calling it the 'absolute chronometer' for the sake of simplicity."

The machine’s inner workings of gears and levers were softly whirring, bathed in a faint blue light that pulsed rhythmically, much like a heartbeat.

"Most individuals perceive time in a similar manner. However, those blessed—or cursed—with extended lifespans can sometimes fall out of sync," Languor continued, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "I need some data to understand if, when, and how your perception of time deviates from the norm, if it ever does, and Lignin’s fears are realized."

"Did you do the same with Inure?" Sonder asked.

"No," Languor admitted. "At that time, the machine was still a work in progress. Inure was but a child, and I was a less old old man. Truthfully, this is the first time I am attempting to use it on someone other than myself."

On hearing this, Sonder glanced down at the small sphere in her hand, her expression contorting slightly in disgust at the implications.

Languor was quick to reassure her, "Oh, no, please don't worry. I assure you, I don't reuse them."