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Ticking of various tempos echoed across the cavernous keep known as The Long Now, bouncing off towering walls and spacious hallways until the sound managed to do a full circuit and come back to the same machinery making the noise. The ricocheting rhythm's mingled with the cacophony of clicking gears, twisting springs, and a million other small and precise pieces of delicate instrumentation that took up so much space of the Viewing Room.
The rhythms of the clocks that kept the keep running had been doing so for countless eons, fitting into the foundation of the Haunt and served as comforting background noise to its lone inhabitant.
"Yes...all is as it should be."
Framed by the massive device known as the Looking Glass floated the entity that made the Long Now so legendary. Clockwork; Ghost of Time, hovered before the ancient piece of gently ticking technology, the soft glow of the image before him reflecting off his ghostly-blue skin while casting shadows behind his flowing purple cloak. The satisfied smile resting on his face paired well with the confident glint in his unscarred red eye.
The ghost floated with certainty, back straight while his hold on his mighty staff was firm in his hand, as his image shifted to a small child or frail old man. Even through the immaterial body of a ghost, it could be seen that there was a certain degree of satisfaction, pride even, in Clockwork's body language. The images on the glass before him were the first in a series of delicate dominos he had been long setting up, partly with another - even more delicate set of dominos to make the earlier events even possible. Like a clockmaker, his tools were for the delicate things, small and intricate, but no less important than that of the flashier moments seen in so many of the lives he's viewed over the years.
A gentle hand was needed to set the butterfly in motion, after all.
Still, the imposing ghost allowed himself a moment of satisfaction in acknowledging that his little pushes and tweaks across time were paying off. That soon he'd see the rise of a new hero, one poised to bring about -
"Clockwork"
And just like that, at the peak of him reveling in the privacy of his own Lair, appreciating practically millennia of careful planning…against all odds, the Lord of Time himself found himself off-tempo.
A brief stutter, one almost unnoticeable if it weren't for his bone-deep awareness of the very machines that took up his home and their continued metronome, shuttered through all the clocks in the Haunt. His form fluttered between ages; shuffling through young, mature, and old in a flash before composing himself.
It was only for a moment, but the moment was one that went unseen by the rest of the Ghost Zone, thankfully.
For no one needed to know that it was, in fact, possible that Clockwork himself could be caught by surprise.
So exposed.
Still, from within the microseconds he allowed himself that moment of weakness, The Time Ghost collected himself as he met his sudden guest, though not with the usual warmth he offered others.
Then again, those typical guests had included one young hybrid looking for answers, and the occasional accompaniment of his equally curious companions. Danny, Tucker and Sam were (mostly) human, with human wants and needs mingled with typical and entirely predictable teenage behavior. Clockwork was all-too happy to play host and provide solace and sanctuary to the often haggard youths as they fought against the tide of ghosts, especially as young Danny fought for his way in the two worlds he found himself caught between.
When one was a ghost able to view events in Time like they're above a parade, viewing the ever-marching tide of players of ghosts and humans alike, a being such as Clockwork had nothing to worry about.
But a being outside those parameters, not in the way of Danny and Vlad, who straddled the line between living and ghost but still existed with human mentalities and very human origins...but something that existed above such petty things as "life" and "death," well...
"Well met, Lord Shaper."
Clockwork beheld his guest and was met with another jolt of surprise he had to keep hidden in the moments between the seconds.
(He could thank his mastery over time that he was able to smother those moments as much as possible, using the seconds between seconds to gather his strength and maintain his image of a ghostly ancient.)
Across from him stood one of the few entities he knew of who had existed long before him, with a reach far beyond his and more than enough creativity to keep him on edge.
Dream of The Endless. Lord Shaper. Morpheus. Oneiros. Kai'ckul. His names were nearly as numerous as the rumors surrounding him and his family, where dysfunction hardly began to scratch the surface in terms of describing them, and he stood there in The Long Now like he was simply invited in.
The Sandman arrived as a guest in his keep.
Arms crossed, his face appeared neutral as he gazed up towards the Looking Glass, allowing Clockwork the briefest of moments to take in the Lord of Dream's change in appearance.
Gone was the imposing figure in all black, from the sprawling cloak of inky darkness that ate up so much of his form, to the head of wild onyx hair that stood in all directions in direct defiance with gravity. Instead stood someone in nearly all alabaster white, from the clothes to the skin (that made some ghosts look positively tan) to the now longer hair that no longer simply sat atop his head but curled down to the bottom of his neck, with only two points that stood out from the stark figure.
One green emerald hung from his neck, somehow such a lush perfect shade of green against the stark whiteness it sat on that it made the swirling ectoplasm of the dimension look practically jaundiced in comparison...and those eyes.
The eyes remained the only thing that seemed unchanged, but still daunting. Twin pools of sprawling, yawning void sat where eyes would otherwise go, broken up with pinpricks of starlight that inspired an idea of something so vast and spacious that even the expansive room they stood in was beginning to feel claustrophobic to the time ghost.
Yes…yes the eyes were the same. Against all the other changes, he could tell that Lord Morpheus was still the being of sprawling and unbound creativity the scant few aware of him knew him as. Those eyes were just a glimpse regarding the true scope of his capabilities, his reach -
His terrible power.
"I see we share a habit of picking favorites."
Dream was still looking at the glass, face unmoving as he watched the same images Clockwork was viewing a moment ago. On it was damning evidence regarding the figure in white's statement.
Danny was flying through a city; not Amity, but the fog-choked sky of Gotham, the location Clockwork had requested he visit.
There was no evidence of any judgement, disappointment, or negativity on his guest's face or in his tone, and yet Clockwork couldn't shake the unease the longer that starry gaze held on the image.
"You better than anyone can understand when one latches onto a character in a story." He met the Lord of Stories words as he joined in watching the scene before them. Danny's tired but determined look meant he was still taking the mission Clockwork gave him seriously, though he was aware that said mission was not without some hiccups.
"I do." Dream nodded, his tone somehow dripping with more gravity than a blackhole. "I also understand the desire to write yourself into the narrative."
Clockwork's guest was like a ghost only in the sense of shape. Two arms accompanied two legs, a torso, and topped by a head. Attempting to compare him to anything even remotely mortal was like trying to compare an ember to the sun. He was no more a ghost than a human, since that would imply some degree of mortal origin, and Clockwork was one of the few who grasped the full scope of just what The Endless and their ilk truly were.
All this meant was that he knew he'd need to steel himself during this interaction; beings like these were able to move in ways that could outmaneuver even him.
Conversations were just as likely to be sparring matches (or executions to those unaware) as they were actual talks about how one's day went. The maddening thing was that it was just as likely that Dream was there to talk as he was to pick apart Clockwork's entire character from its beginning to now.
But he couldn't take that gamble. Gods were capricious enough, but The Endless, who existed so far above those in need of faith to maintain power, were prone to delivering miracles as they were madness.
He would know, being one of the only ones left who remember the City of Glass.
Morpheus was still looking up, gazing unblinkingly at the image of Danny as he made his way through Gotham, and even The Ghost of Time knew that he couldn't let the entity wait.
"Daniel is in need of a mentor, someone capable of helping him better understand his unusual connection between Life and Death."
"A role you gave yourself."
Clockwork could feel the truth beginning to needle under his skin.
"Rare are the ghosts in this realm without an ulterior motive or an axe to grind. I wasn't going to risk another using Danny in a way to fit their own desires. He needs a far more stable hand."
"And that has led him into Gotham; notorious for its stability."
"He's more than capable of handling himself. His abilities have grown tremendously since walking into the portal."
He knew what he was doing even as the words left his mouth.
Justifying his decisions. Looking to counter every word that left the figure next to him. Some long forgotten, almost vestigial, part of him stirring to life despite himself; defensive and raw when talking to an elder immortal.
He felt fallible.
"Danny's situation is a delicate one. You of all people should understand how a hero's journey requires trials before they're ready to take on greater challenges."
"Mmmm"
A nod.
A nod was all he got for his words, for all but admitting to his plans with Danny. He knew the Lord of Stories wasn't obtuse, knew that he wasn't so muddled in his realm of what ifs and never writtens and creatures that only existed in the worlds of myth and dreams, that he was unaware of the ghost's intentions. That this truly was all a simple visit to kill an afternoon was a riot.
Then again, who else would love the irony but The Sandman himself? Killing time in the Ghost Lord of Time's home.
"You're no doubt still dedicated to your role of maintaining this timeline, and all that involves."
He could feel another barb, another needle under the skin with those words, and yet Clockwork found himself unable to keep himself from speaking.
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you the importance of pruning some unwanted branches. Had things gone the way they were going, the only stories you'd have left would be tragedies."
"A grim tale to be told, but rare when it’s the only one."
Despite what those aware of him may believe, Clockwork wasn’t all-seeing. He sees far more than any ghost is capable of, or will ever see (even in their long afterlife), but to assume he saw All and knew All was a vast overstatement of his powers, far-reaching though they may be.
No, to be able to know All would imply he somehow took the book from Dream's brother, the eldest Endless; Destiny. For from within that tome sat information of all that ever was or will ever be, and it is the oldest of the grand family of immortals who bore the shackles of that heavy weight that was also his name.
But still, the pale figure had wandered onto a path that Clockwork was familiar with. Viewing and maintenance of timelines was one of his great jobs, and better than anyone, he knew that some needed to be curbed before they had a chance of taking hold and becoming reality.
"Sometimes stubborn alternatives make themselves known. Danny's destiny was on a dark path and direct interaction -"
"Yours."
Clockwork was no new ghost (unmoored as they were, form subjected to the whims of untrained emotions as they found themselves separated from a mortal body, loose in a strange dimension) and he found that years of monitoring time itself left him with a rather long fuse, but rare was it to find himself among company to have the audacity to actually interrupt him. It would be novel if it weren't so annoying.
" - direct intervention was needed to ensure that so many stories weren't snuffed out. I'm sure that would be something you'd appreciate."
He knew he was toeing the line a little too much in terms of his tone. Even so much as implying that an Endless would owe him anything was dangerous territory and, were it a different sibling, the only excuse needed to provoke a response.
"I've had the privilege of enjoying the vast library of individual stories through the eons. Self-proclaimed heroes and unaware villains dancing their destinies together.” Went Dream, continuing his musings as though a conversation with him wasn't a terrible duel in disguise. "There are more things in Heaven and Earth than what is simply viewed through your window, Chronos."
All at once, with little warning or fanfare, every piece of ticking, clicking, whirring piece of machinery ground to an absolute halt.
For the first time since its creation, The Long Now was as silent as the grave.
"Time OUT"
With the flex of his power, the ripple of frozen time rapidly spread out, pausing everything around them, trapping the two inside the keep as the only moving figures in stopped time.
Clockwork's form had ceased its gentle shift in ages, instead warping into something that matched none of the usual forms. Fingers stretched out, thick and weathered like tree bark, along with lengthening arms, broadening torso and shoulders, all while a wild beard spilled down the front of his robe. Not the usual snowy white like a gentle powder, but a steely grey, like a looming storm rolling in over the ocean.
Eyes, once red and sparkling with a knowing twinkle, sunk into sockets as the shape known as Clockwork continued to change, soon becoming so heavily shadowed that those same eyes only offered the barest pinprick of red light from inside.
When it was all over, the ghost Danny had come to know as his strange but trustworthy mentor had been replaced with a towering figure of legend.
A now massive hand curled around the silver staff, which had also transformed into something befitting its wielder's ancient appearance; the once smooth steely surface having grown gnarled and rough like an ancient tree, while the top sprouted split after split after split until it resembled less a staff and more a great silver tree bereft of leaves. Shimmering ghostly energies swirled and flowed around the now many branches, which crackled and popped with rogue power waiting to be let loose after years of resting dormant.
"And Death calls me dramatic."
"My hospitality stretches thin, Shaper." The figure formerly known as Clockwork rumbled out, voice like a cracking boulder rolling off an ancient mountain. "Even you aren't immune to when a privilege is revoked. If there's a reason for this visit, make it clear now or else you'll find yourself unable to find this particular story ever again."
Long had it been since Clockwork shed his guise of being the mysterious yet gentle time ghost in order to let his true face out. Become that known as the once feared and revered Chronos. Memories, buried under layers of dust, shook loose and flooded his mind.
The War, now only the stuff of legend and folklore, still sat raw in his thoughts. Days when the heavens shook and the earth quaked under the mighty footsteps as gods and titans alike raced into battle in a furious attempt to snatch whatever footholds they could get on the land below and its people. And oh…was it beautiful.
Visions of raging seas, thundering clouds fat with threatening bolts, and screaming armies fighting on both sides briefly filled his senses. For a moment he was back among his kin, the other titans, fighting furiously to maintain their control over the mortals that cowered to their might. That is, until those upstarts, those so-called “gods” each found their domains. Each one harnessed their strengths and soon enough beat back the tide of titans, wiping those out who weren’t lucky enough to get away. Of all things, it was Hades’s method of banishment that gave the remaining titans their new home and identities, for as he shunted them to the strange Underworld, they found a fresh playground of souls.
Though since then, Chronos could argue he’s done a lot of reflecting on his actions. It took some time for the once prideful titan to become the peaceful time keeper of ghostly legend.
And yet, even in the face of a primordial entity in his full glory, Dream remained in his position as a humble observer. Looking up at the now towering figure like he was considering what angle to best look at a strange painting.
“Call it curiosity then…I’m trying to close myself off less in this incarnation. I certainly do feel like I’ve done enough brooding, and I can’t help but wonder about a young spirit who shares my name.”
“Daniel is none of your concern.” The Titan of Time practically growled.
“Yet he occupies so much of your own.”
“His story is a delicate thing.” And a massive hand swept towards the inner section of the Lair, flying over Dream’s bone-white hair as it gestured towards every bit of precise machinery littering the tower, now frozen in time. “He isn’t as simple as something one sculpts from a pile of wet clay. Daniel is a million working pieces, each intricate and requiring a touch of a master able to perceive all outcomes, so that he may one day achieve his full potential.”
“And is that what he wants? I admit I don’t know his full story, but I was under the impression he desired to be an astronaut.”
Such placidness, such airy innocent words aimed up at the frightful figure of Time, seemed only to add fuel to his simmering ire, acting as a verbal Trojan Horse to get past his defenses. Be it either in the form of a titan or the legend that is Clockwork, the timekeeper rarely found himself handling a guest who spoke to him with such carefree impudence. But Chronos knew that there was more underneath the veneer of innocent conversation around his charge. Knew it as well as he knew that the only reason he wasn’t currently striking down at this invader in his own Lair was because even he knew he didn’t want to call down the wrath of entities that were the very cosmic tentpoles to reality.
He had heard the legends. Seen the paths. Death was able to stymie The Furies themselves.
He had no interest in challenging if she truly came for All.
And yet, he knew even his patience (as eternal as The Sands of Time), was wearing thin.
“He is young,” the titan spoke with all the gravity of a black hole. “Flights of fancy plague his mind like it does for everyone his age. But unlike the masses he lives with, the town that vaults between shunning him and praising him, the parents that forget the time it takes to raise a child - let alone two, and the friends who see his abilities as keys to a life of adventure in their mortal lives, Daniel is burdened with a grand destiny. One outside of human wants and desires.”
“I see.”
And for a moment between the two entities, there was a moment of silence. The pause that hung between them sat fat with promise, like a joke hanging in the air just waiting to be plucked like a just fruit off the vine. Chronos practically itched to look at all the potential paths the Endless before him would take; if he would consult his family, if he would seek Danny, if he would even leave the Long Now and allow the titan to resume his work, hopefully satisfied that the hybrid’s fate was at least in the hands of an expert with millennia of experience under his -
“And who placed this burden on him?”
A massive thundering crack echoed throughout the lair, the result of Chronos bringing down his mighty staff and planting the base on the tiled floor as though he were banging a gavel to deliver a deadly verdict. He may as well have been anyway, as his ability to endure the constant needling from his unwanted guest had truly been wrung out.
“There is only so much assumption on my person I can take, Shaper!” His voice thundered, louder than the noise his staff made, all while ghostly energies surged around him like an ill-wind. Even in the pocket of frozen time they occupied, the machinery around them shook with the sheer power the titan was exuding.
Yet Dream still just stood there.
“A destiny such as his needs to be held with the greatest of care, or else we’d risk losing what his future could become!” More and more his walls shook, the tiles beneath them rattling in time with the pictures on the walls as the great titan ranted. “Heroes have risen and fallen for millennia, the gods themselves toss out their chosen like pawns - and yet I have the opportunity to prune all rotten branches on Daniel’s path so that he may be a True champion! A hero unlike any other and then, then he will finally be able to take his place as king!”
He could see it, see it so clearly it was as good as reality already.
Danny, powerful, confident, poised to take on the responsibility that his nurturing mentor Clockwork had trained and prepared him to take after all these years, free of the uncertainty of youth and desire to seek acceptance from parents too steeped in their own self-interest to care about him. A king amongst ghosts and fully capable of bringing a new age to the realm as soon as he’s tied to the two most powerful artifacts crafted from primordial ectoplasm.
A hero of a new age, one tied between two realities, holding them up like the mighty Atlas once did with the world (before being retired after the humans long since stopped believing in those old stories).
Strong, impressive, capable, and all thanks to the firm but guiding hand of his most trusted mentor.
“You misunderstand me, old titan.” Dream’s voice cut through Chronos’s thoughts, halting him from saying the very words he could feel were poised on his tongue. “I’m not here to challenge you, that is not my place. I’m simply interested in a figure so certain he can do a better job in managing one’s destiny than my brother.”
“I know your family enough, Dream.” Chronos rumbled out. “Destiny doesn’t dole out one’s path, he simply bears the weight of the book.”
“We are everywhere our duties take us, timekeeper. Just as I am part of all stories, my brother walks alongside the same paths of those facing their challenges.” Dream locked eyes with the titan, red meeting those deep pools of sprawling starscapes, and Chronos found himself actually fighting the urge not to blink despite the sudden feeling of potentially being lost to that endless gaze. “How else do you think I learned about your little deviation from Danny’s story? Destiny couldn’t help but notice a few grains of sand along his path, if you catch my meaning.”
Chronos let slip a rumble of irritation, annoyed that despite his best attempts at subtlety, there truly was no way around a family that could slip themselves into every aspect of, well - everywhere. “I am with him on his path when no one is. When his family let him down, when his friends falter, when the other hybrid betrays him time and time again. Danny will know that all I do is to ensure the best future for him.”
Chronos straightened up, towering over the human-sized entity, putting as much finality into his words as he could muster for a millennia-old time titan, and yet Dream didn’t even seem to offer anything close to acknowledgement in return. Twisting on a white boot, he turned his back on the timekeeper, hands in his robes as though about to leave an old acquaintance’s home.
“I know this project is important to you, Chronos, and in a way I can see your perspective.” He stopped, not looking back but tilting his head like he had a funny thought. “There’s something to be said about wanting to see an ideal outcome, about wanting to hold the pen and draw the ending yourself. So many stories can feel unfulfilling when looking at them from the perspective of the consumer, I know that even I am guilty of letting my desires for a better ending color my actions…” His posture didn’t change, didn’t stiffen or slouch, and yet the titan could see something shift in the dream lord; a weight settling on his shoulders. He could only guess what was on the other being’s mind, as the feats of The Endless were as vast and impossible as they themselves were.
“We may all want to see what we feel is a true solution…but sometimes a story ends, and the best we can do is appreciate the time we spent with it. The emotions we felt, the roads traveled and characters met.” Dream looked over his shoulder, a strange twinkle in his eye. “Not every ideal ending is possible. It ends when it ends, and when it does we must use what we learned to act accordingly.”
And he was gone.
No leaving through any doorway. No puff of smoke or fog or stars or anything. One second Dream was there, the next he was gone in a blink.
Chronos waited a beat, listening for any sign that the being was simply waiting for the titan to let his guard down for some kind of retaliation that was seeped in centuries of long-forgotten debts or whatever else that family got up to.
But nothing happened.
Certain he was back to being alone in his keep, the being known as Chronos, one of the last titans and keeper of the timeline, folded in on himself again and again, tucking in every bit of his primordial being until it was all hidden away, and all that was left was the figure known as Clockwork. Purple cape drifting along the stone floor of his keep, he glided over to his Looking Glass, finding himself needing to check in on Danny, to see if the story he was writing wasn’t suddenly being edited by a foreign entity.
But everything was the same; Danny, still in Gotham, getting to know the local family of heroes, determined right what he felt was an error in haste, and learning from the professionals in the process. On this path, he was most certainly going to be far-more well-versed in how to conduct himself when older.
This Clockwork was certain of.
And so he watched, pouring his attention into his next steps, what characters to involve, and what pieces to push to the forefront.
Ignoring the feeling of being watched himself, of how the once echoing halls of his home now felt far too riddled with possibility for something to wait in the shadows, of wondering what was said about him in Destiny’s book.
Of how he didn’t remember restarting stopped time after Dream left, and yet ticking once again filled his Lair, bouncing down the halls and back to him with, heavier in their rhythms than before.