What matters, my darlings, is that the new year has broken, and this story is done. The tale of the Nutcracker and his princesses is for another time. Into your pajamas, tapers lit; and if I read the stars aright, my old friend your godfather will be here by morning.

Time in the battle-bruised city unwound: men shredded by shot breathed again, boys wore beards, and snow flurried up from cobbles.

“We may never chase down the nut Krakatuk,” said the astronomer.

“I have been a fool,” said Drosselmeier.

“You have been legend,” said the astronomer. “I would not take all the kingdoms in Christendom in trade for our adventure.”

“Then let us home, to dear Nuremberg,” said Drosselmeier, “for whatever the consequences of failure, I will face them gladly, knowing you are by my side.”

“Why invoke such lunatic sorcery?” he cried.

Drosselmeier stood mad and time-whipped in the eye of the engine. “Because you did not deserve this,” he said, tears streaming into his eyes. “It was my quest! My life at stake! And in my fear, my selfish desperation, I took fifteen years from you!”

“My friend,” said the astronomer, “my dear Christian Elias Drosselmeier–for you I would give them all.”

The heartspring of the clock, driven beyond its strength, shattered like glass.

Spiraling, spiraling, up a staircase caged in cogs.

“Clockmaker,” said Drosselmeier, “and magician.”

“What do you mean to do?” panted the astronomer.

“We have chased Krakatuk into the future; we cannot know where it will be. But we know precisely where it was!”

The cold struck a bolt through his chest. “Oh Drosselmeier,” he whispered, still climbing, “it has driven you to madness!”

A heaving, grinding sound, as Drosselmeier threw the gear train into reverse; time sheared at the astronomer, and he was–

Spiraling, spiraling, up a staircase caged in cogs–

“Drosselmeier!” he shouted, inside, just as the bell finished its eleventh toll and ground to silence.  The echo hung for a long time.

“Do you know,” came Drosselmeier’s voice from far overhead, “they say the sun itself consults this clock to determine when to rise?”

“Children’s tales,” chattered the astronomer, trying to find a staircase.

“We have been living a child’s tale for fifteen years,” Drosselmeier said.