The Clockwork

The Clockwork is an ancient system of deciding when to offer up the sacrifice. Legend has it that it was created by Necron themself, but everyone knows that that was just propaganda spread by the Crown. In the room, the Clockwork inched its way to one more tick, and each increment it gained moved us closer to death.

My family and I had been peacefully minding our own business when the Crown’s underlings – people dressed in all white suits that by some miracle never got dirty – kidnapped us. There are many names for them (some worse than others), but I call them the Skeletons, since they don’t think for themselves and almost every single one of their actions is controlled by the Crown.

Every bump from the back of the carriage punctuated and worsened my nausea. Almost all of the gossip I had overheard in the market that week was about the growing missing persons rate, which I now knew was caused by the Crown, judging from the number of other people in here with me. I snuggled closer to my dad, while rubbing my little sister’s back with my shackled hands. It hadn’t been easy for us in the past year, with mom’s death and the coup of the Crown against the Republic. Mom’s death had been especially hard on me. I had been thrown so far into grief that I had become pious to Necron in the hopes that they would bring her back. I prayed thirteen times every day, sang cries of anguish, and even offered up jars filled to the brim with my own blood and tears. Necron, despite reigning over the living and the dead, is said to bring people back to life for his most devout followers. I had done that for months, worshipping and giving offerings to Necron much more than I grieved the death of my mom. I now regret ignoring her for so long and denying her passing.

Just when I thought I couldn’t handle the jolts and bumps any longer, there was one final almighty jerk, we rolled onto smoother ground. There was only one place in Altria permitted to have paved roads, and that was the royal palace.

What are we doing here? The Crown never has guests after what happened during the coup. After the Crown had successfully overthrown the Republic, Altria had become a tyranny. The Crown took absolute power and controlled everything from what people ate to who came and went. People did not not like that at all. They protested and threw riots. Someone even managed to sneak into the palace and tried to assassinate the Crown. They failed and were lynched. After that, no one dared breathe a word against the power of the Crown.

The tarp was suddenly ripped off the carriage. I squinted in the harsh sunlight. We were shoved up and forced up four flights of stairs so heavily ornamented that it looked like the goose that lays golden eggs had vomited all over the place. We were then shoved into a dimly lit room with a giant clock in the center.

I knew this room. Unless you were living under a rock, everyone in Altria had seen this room before. It was all over the newspapers and posters at every fork in the road. It was the Room of Sacrifice. It was quite literally what it sounded like. It was the room in which the Crown gave offerings to Necron.

In the center was the Clockwork, and a figure emerged from behind it. They were wearing the Triple Crown, the symbol of the Crown. It was the Crown themself. They were also wearing a mask, which they started taking off. In addition to my growing dread, I also felt a dark kind of excitement. No one had ever seen the Crown with their mask off! As they lifted it, I saw fangs up to their nose and two glowing red pupils. That was exactly how Necron was always depicted! The god I had prayed so much to and devoted so much to has been the oppressor of our whole land.

Presently, the Clockwork tolled, signaling my impending doom.