Time Lord !link! < 95% High-Quality >

She was eleven years old when she entered the Obsidian Tower for the first time. The Tower's interior was larger than its exterior suggested—vast galleries of clockwork and crystal, staircases that spiraled into impossible distances, rooms filled with ticking sounds that didn't quite match. Elara walked for days, or perhaps for seconds. Time had no meaning inside the Tower. She was hungry and then she was not. She was tired and then she was not. She encountered versions of herself—younger, older, sideways—who offered cryptic advice and then vanished.

The figure spoke without moving its lips. “You came. I knew you would. I remembered it happening before it happened. That is my curse.” time lord

Batzorig placed the inverted hourglass in her hands. The sand began to flow downward—normally, properly—and the Tower shuddered. When Elara looked up, Batzorig was gone. In his place was a crown of rusted gears and a cloak woven from the shadows of eclipses. She was eleven years old when she entered