The glass shattered. A sound like a dying bird echoed through the workshop, and the shadows collapsed into dust. Sterling fled, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.
With a guttural roar, Elias didn't strike Sterling. Instead, he grabbed his heavy brass loupe and smashed it into the obsidian heart of the Chronometer. the devil in me
Just as the shadows touched Sterling's throat, Elias caught a glimpse of himself in a polished silver tray. He looked monstrous—not because of any physical change, but because of the pure, unadulterated joy on his face as he prepared to do something terrible. The glass shattered
"It’s not me," Elias would tell himself, gripping the edge of his workbench until his knuckles turned white. "It’s the best of you," the shadow would retort. With a guttural roar, Elias didn't strike Sterling
“Let him have it,” the Elias-part of his brain screamed. “He doesn't deserve the time he’s been given,” the Devil sang.