“Let him have it,” the Elias-part of his brain screamed. “He doesn't deserve the time he’s been given,” the Devil sang.
That night, the "Devil" introduced himself. Not with horns or brimstone, but with an extra shadow. Elias stood in his bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and noticed his reflection was three seconds behind. While Elias looked tired, the man in the mirror looked electric . He was grinning a predatory, wide-toothed grin that Elias hadn't used in a decade. the devil in me
The first time Elias touched the gears, a spark jumped. It wasn't static; it felt like a cold needle stitching itself into his thumb. “Let him have it,” the Elias-part of his brain screamed
Elias felt his vision split. He saw his own hand reach out—not to hand over the clock, but to grip Sterling’s wrist. He felt the strength of ten men coiled in his muscles. His reflection in the glass of the clock wasn't his own face; it was a void with burning, amber eyes. Not with horns or brimstone, but with an extra shadow
The mirror didn’t just reflect Elias anymore; it curated him.