Tic Toc Tic Toc Tic Toc
The ticking of the clock was maddening. It stood at the far end of the library, yet Serah could hear its endless cadence as though it were as close to her face as the book she was trying to read. She had been listening to it for hours, and she wanted nothing more than to smash the sun-forsaken thing. Why they allowed something so noisy in the library to begin with, she couldn't understand. Settling for just glaring at the wooden frame, she tried her best to shut it out and focus on her book.
It was the history of Rickard Brole, an ancient user of magic who had used his powers to carve out the Kappa river which now divided the continent in half. He had done so in hopes that it would prevent a war from spreading by separating the two bitter countries, Kuro and Murasaki. But bridges were built above the rapid waters, carrying armies to battle. Brole gave his life trying to halt the marching, but—
Serah ground her teeth as she looked up once again at the cursed clock. It was difficult enough to read in the old tongue when it was peaceful and quiet, never mind when it sounded as though someone were banging sticks together. She would have thought there was a drummer in the room, except that a drum would have been quieter. Wishing for the thousandth time that she could read these books somewhere other than the library, she returned once again to the tale of Rickard Brole.
After Brole's sacrifice, one of his close friends, a swordsman who was known only by his title—Yarika, swore that he would not let Brole's death be in vain. He raised a fortress along the river's edge and trained an army of his own. Not to join the war on either country's side, but to beat both armies into returning home. It took him sixty five years, but his newly formed House Yarika eventually grew mighty enough to keep either country from sending soldiers across the river dividing them, effectively ending the war.
As Serah turned the page, she nearly tore the parchment from its binding. That incessant tic-toc-tic-toc was going to drive her mad. She very nearly threw something at it, but she stopped herself short of actually picking her inkwell up off the table. She considered stopping for the day and heading back to the quiet of her room, but she was almost through with the book. She satisfied herself for the moment by running through a mental list of spells that could obliterate the offending timekeeper, having to fight the urge not to actually speak any of them aloud. Performing magic in the library was forbidden, as was destroying nerve-grating clocks. While she kept a tally on the number of ways she could end her misery if she chose, she began reading the final chapters.
Shortly after Yarika had succeeded in ending the almost seventy year-long war, he died. He charged his descendants with keeping vigilant watch over the border between Murasaki and Kuro, knowing that the two lands would one day march to war again. He had been right, of course, and his house had still stood prepared some half a century later. However, this time the armies only sent small numbers of troops forward at a time, giving them plenty of time to replace the men that Yarika's house cut down. Meanwhile, Yarika's descendants began bickering over who had inherited his blessing as leader of the house, and their feud eventually devolved into a civil war of sorts that ultimately left the family in shambles. After that—
Gong! Gong! Gong! Serah pushed her chair away from the table viciously. She jumped from her seat and pointed an outstretched finger at the clock as though it were a nocked arrow. It let out one final Gong! before she let out a shout of frustration.
"Ignitio!"
Unnatural flames engulfed the wooden frame, reducing it to ash in seconds. Melted nubs of metal sat among the remains. Serah slowly moved her trembling hand back to her side. Looking around the library, she was dozens of faces staring at her with expressions ranging from shocked to terrified. Sheepishly sitting back down in her chair, she looked down at her book again, unable to enjoy the newfound silence. Instead, she found herself plagued by a single thought.
I'm going to have to pay for that, aren't I?