The House under the Mist has stood at the end of Amber Street forever. The high fence entwined with ivy and the frayed planks of the gate deterred most passers-by. But this autumn, when the fog appeared not only in the morning but also in the afternoon, the House began to be talked about more often than ever. Nina had never believed in spooks, but something very different intrigued her. On her way back from the library, she had accidentally noticed that the clock on the turret of the House under the Mist showed a completely different time from all the others in the town. It was as if it was living a life of its own. The next day, when she passed that way again, the hands had stopped and a thicker than usual fog was floating around the house. On Friday afternoon, Nina assembled a team: Philip, who knew his way around electronics, and Daria, a specialist in all things strange and disturbing. They walked up to the gate, carrying torches, a camera and a notebook. The main door stood slightly ajar, as if someone had invited them in. The cups on the rusty bench in front of the house testified that someone had been here recently, but there were no lights on in the windows. The interior of the house smelled of dust and heated metal. Wandering through corridors full of pictures with faded faces and shelves cluttered with old watches, they felt increasingly uncomfortable. Philip noticed that none of the clocks worked, yet each of them seemed to hear a ticking every now and then. Upstairs they found a small workroom, from which a staircase led to the attic. Against the wall stood a table cluttered with mechanisms, tools and a typewriter. In the middle of the table lay a black envelope with the initial 'N' scratched into it. Nina opened the envelope with a trembling hand and saw only one sentence on the thin sheet of paper: "When the clocks cease to be silent, time will cease to exist." At the same moment, all the clocks in the house began to strike midnight simultaneously, even though the sun was still hanging high outside the window. There was a quiet murmur from behind the attic door, as if someone was whispering their names....