In the sanctuary of ticking metal, amidst motionless gears, lies the Timekeeper.
It speaks not in words but through whispers, teaching you the dance of seconds and shadows.
Hollow echo, your hand moves. It claws the hours, squeezing essence from each fragment slipping, unreeling until...
//Books suggested by the shadows:
"How to Align Stars with Broken Compasses"
"The Ferocity of Calm Waters: Lessons from Fictional Farms"
But beware, paths diverge under your tread, glance askew at miscounted voices.
To summon the correct rhythm: Pause. Listen. Relinquish your grip on certainty, and the steps will reveal themselves...