Rip In Time Page

"The Rip in Time isn’t a window, Elias," the man said, stepping into the light. It was Elias—older, frailer, his hands scarred by burns he hadn’t received yet. "It’s a leak. Every second you let that clock run, the present drains into the past. You’re trading your 'now' for a 'then' that’s already gone."

The first "rip" appeared over his workbench. It looked like a jagged fissure in a mirror, except instead of a reflection, Elias saw his own workshop as it had been forty years ago. He saw his younger self, vibrant and focused, soldering a pocket watch. Rip in Time

Elias spun around. Standing by the door was a man who looked like a walking shadow. His clothes were modern, but his eyes were ancient. "The Rip in Time isn’t a window, Elias,"