The Flame Keeper

Chapter 21

"—and then the gear train transfers the energy to the appropriate hour, minute, and second hands." The man let out a breath as if he had just finished one long sentence. "Quite interesting, huh? Oh," he set down the clock and picked up another peculiar contraption that resembled a crow. "wait until I fry your minds with how this works. So, in a nutshell—"

"Um, sir," Matilda started. "We'd like to—"

"Ah, of course," the man hastily put down the crow and fished for another contraption. "Maybe this will suit your taste?"

"No, we're here to... Marion sent us," she said, and the man's expression tightened.

"Come with me," he walked over to the ladder, disappearing into the egg. "You'll want to be comfortable."

The flame flickered briefly, desperately clinging to life, before it fizzed and all that remained were a few sparks that danced on Ken's palm. As the last spark succumbed to its fate, darkness draped over us like a heavy blanket, and we stumbled toward the ladder, guided only by the moonlight and the flickering glow.

I headed up first, grabbing onto the cool metal that shifted uncomfortably as I ascended. The egg was exactly how I envisioned it to be: beige walls that curved up to form the roof, scraps strewn over the creaky floorboards, and a slanted shelf adorned with fine, polished contraptions.

A curved leather couch lined half of the interior, a crude wooden desk on the other side that smelled of sawdust and burning that tickled my nose. The little window above the desk had been fogged by the clouds of water vapor puffed from a winding pipe, groaning as the man adjusted it. On top of the desk stood a gear-jammed mechanical claw, and an arm-like device lay around a heap of dust scattered around the desk.

The man sat down comfortably on a wooden chair that was a skeleton of its former self, splinters littered on the wood like a prickly cactus and the legs buckled dangerously as he leaned back against the chair.

"Have a seat," the man gestured towards the leather-coated seats that had been furnished with a toned turquoise color. Wrinkles revealed bits of yellow foam that had seeped through the cracks, and Matilda and Ken joined me after climbing the ladder, ducking their heads so as not to hit the shelves above.

It was a tight squeeze with the four of us, but it instilled a sense of calmness and familiarity—a cozy hut that contained all the essentials: a snug workplace to bring ingenious ideas to light and a worn but comfortable couch that would hug away all the aches after a day's hard work.

I looked up at the shelves, my eye having caught a metallic cardinal that glimmered under the orange glow of the lightbulb.

A deep shade of red paint had peeled in patches here and there along the breast, revealing the shiny tint of burnished metal underneath and a glimpse of rotating gears that pumped life into the little bird. Sleek, level feathers formed a glossy tail, and golden talons had been attached along the belly with metal joints and scraps, a rudimentary resemblance to its living counterpart.

A dark pupil sat amidst amber depths, its gaze unnerving as it seemed to regard me with suspicion.

"That's Camila," the man remarked, and the cardinal stirred at the sound of her name, gears whirring as her feathers ruffled and an amber glow radiated from its eyes. "Oh, sorry for interrupting your slumber."

The cardinal seemed to give him a side eye as she puffed out her chest, touseling her feathers, and bowed her head as the light receded from her eyes.

"The crow you saw earlier was a basic prototype that was iterated into this. The red does look nice, right?"