Premise
A door opens between one day and the next.
Every night, the clock folds in on itself. Coffins line the streets, moon hangs low and swollen, and a tower nobody else can see climbs out of the schoolyard.
You're new to the dorm. The seniors don't explain everything, and the transfer student rarely asks — but the silence between midnight and one has a shape, and it's waiting for someone to walk through it.
Piece together your evenings between class, part-time work, and the quiet hour past the veil. Every choice — who you sit with, what you study, who you trust — echoes into what waits at the top of the tower.