My grandfather was a transcendent who commanded time. Before he died, he left me a bronze sundial.
He said, “Don’t look at it during the Chen hour, don’t touch it during the Xu hour, and at midnight…” He never finished. He died right there.
Only later did I learn what he hadn’t managed to say: “At midnight, the creditors come calling.”
At twenty, one midnight beneath the lights of the library, Lu Ran’s shadow came to life and demanded repayment of a “time debt.”
He was forced to inherit his grandfather’s “Temporal Authority,” along with a deadly debt from the Moon Path that had entangled two generations.
Three days later, on the night of the full moon, at the summit of Mount Tai.
The creditor’s dagger already rested against the contract, and he hadn’t even finished digesting the “Timekeeper Disciple” potion.
Time whispered in his ear: become the “Dawn-and-Dusk Magistrate,” master of day and night, before the spring equinox,
or become a sacrifice when the eternal night descends.
In this world, the Sun and Moon are opposing Paths, and the secrets to godhood are hidden in the courses of the stars.
Drink the potion, follow the star trails, and gain power, but take on crushing debt as well.
Some sacrifice cities to advance. Others betray their own bloodline for authority.
Lu Ran wants only one thing:
Before the Nine Luminaries’ star trails grind him to dust, reclaim the “century of time” his grandfather owed,
principal and interest, every last bit of it.
“Remember, the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow.
When the Nine Luminaries’ star trails turn for you,
remember to ask yourself:
Can you afford the price of illuminating the world?”
