The bookshop "Under the Feathered Dot" smelled of dust, cinnamon and adventures yet to come. It stood on the corner of Silver Street in Copper Valley, at the foot of Heather Mountain, where in autumn the wind blew purple leaves like letters from strangers. Iga lived above the bookshop with her grandmother, a cat called Caraway and a thousand bookmarks that she kept in her pockets, in her hair and in her shoes. She was eleven years old, a feather behind her ear and a habit of asking things no one else asked. Her cousin Tymon, a year older, was a master at tying knots and gluing kites, and his pockets were full of string, paper clips and plans for tomorrow. Every day punctually at six o'clock the bell on the town hall tower rang six times. Locals said that sometimes, when the fog has a taste for metal, the bell tolls one more time. The thirteenth. However, no one had really heard it. Or at least no one who told the story. That afternoon there was a fair going on in the Valley. Honey jars, glass balls and tiny music boxes glittered on the stalls. Between them moved the cart of a certain peculiar wanderer. Mr Gil, for that was his name, had a coat sewn from maps, glasses like two puddles after the rain and a box full of objects that looked as if they remembered other people's stories. "Here's something for you." - he said when Iga stopped by his box. He pulled out a small brass key with a star-shaped head. "Keys have a good memory. This one remembers a path that doesn't like to be drawn." "And how much does a memorable key cost?" - asked Tymon, wrinkling his forehead. "Two copper ones and a smile." - replied Mr Gil. "The night will tell you the rest." Iga paid, smiled with all her might and put the key in her pocket. For a moment it seemed to her that the metal warmed up like a stone in the sun. In the evening, as her grandmother extinguished the lamps between the shelves, the mist slipped in through the gaps in the windows and lay on the counter in a thin layer of silver. Caraway sat on the windowsill and listened, as if the wall had something to tell him. Iga and Tymon had spread blankets in the back room, but no one was thinking of sleeping. "Listen." - Iga whispered. The key in her hand shuddered like a feather trying to break away from the ground. A low tone came from the depths of the bookshop - the bell on the tower rang out for the first time, then a second, a third until the twelfth. And then, instead of quieting down, the air vibrated and resounded with another deep thump, as if time had taken a step it shouldn't. "Did you hear that?" - Tymon opened his eyes wide. "I heard," Iga squeezed the key. The star on its top flared softly and pointed to a bookshelf of travel books. On the spine of one of them flicked the title: 'Atlas of Roads Not Seen'. Caraway jumped off the shelf, wagged a question mark with his tail and ran between the crates in the back. The children followed him. The wall behind the stacks of boxes seemed darker than usual, as if someone had drawn the shadow of a door there. Iga picked up a key. The metal star-shape spread sparks that settled on the bricks. The lines of light merged into the outline of an arc. "It looks like... you know." - Tymon didn't finish as the bricks moved silently. No creak, no dust. They simply slid one into the other, like a jigsaw puzzle, revealing a smooth slab of greenish stone. A shape glowed in the middle of the slab - an opening that had not been there a moment before. The key itself lifted up a tad, as if it knew what to do. Iga took a deep breath. "Together?" - She asked. "Always," Tymon nodded. She slid the key in. The lock answered with a quiet sigh, and somewhere very far away something breathed with it. The slab parted and revealed a spiral staircase going down between the roots. It smelled of bark, grated leaves and rain that had not yet fallen. "Grandma...?" - began Tymon, but Iga shook her head. "She's asleep. And besides, someone needs to check where the stairs go before they close themselves," she said, and Caraway made a sound that sounded like a 'yes'. They descended. Subtle lights, resembling skylights, lit up above their heads with each step. Roots entwined the walls like giant braids. Someone had once carved pictures on the stones: whales hovering above the fields, trees with birds' wings, bridges made up of notes. "Someone did this a long time ago," - whispered Tymon, touching the drawing with his finger. "And I think he wanted us to see it." "Or for someone to see it. Maybe not us." - replied Iga, but her heart jumped in her chest the way a ball jumps when it hits a perfect paving stone. The stairs ended in a stone terrace. In front of them stretched a grotto so high that its vault could not be seen. In the middle, as if someone had placed the sky on the ground, a calm lake was spilling out. Only it did not reflect their faces or the lamps above their heads. It reflected other stars, another moon and a key that now shone with a cool blue glow. On the other side of the taffrail one could see bands of hills that flowed like clouds. Islands with trees with glass-like leaves floated lazily between them. The shadow of something large slid across the surface - like a sailing ship, only without water or masts. "Look," Tymon pointed to the edge of the lake. Tiles emerged from the stones, one by one, forming a narrow path. Each new step shone for a moment, as if warmed by an invisible flame. "I think this is an invitation," Iga felt the key in her hand grow cool. "Or at least an attempt." Caraway stepped to the first plate and sat down, like a judge awarding a point. Iga looked at Tymon. Tymon looked at Iga. "If it's silly, at least we'll be silly together." - he muttered. "Sounds fair," Iga smiled and took a step. The tile didn't move and her foot dipped minimally into the smooth chill. She felt as if she had touched the memory of something familiar to the sea, though it had never been water. Seven paces away the path made a bend and the lake pulsed with the rhythm of their breaths. The bell on the tower, high above their heads, echoed in the stones of the cave. One. Two. Three... Iga no longer knew how to count whether she was counting the actual beats or what was bouncing off the vault. "Do you hear?" - Tymon tilted his head. There was a rustling sound from inside the lake, as if someone was turning the pages of a pitch-sized book. Then - a soft crack, like a cinnamon stick cracking. "Me too." - Iga stood on the last tile before the very surface. The water - if it was water - began to rise like stretched glass. It wasn't spilling. It was gathering into a dome, and tiny points appeared in the centre of it, forming lines and shapes. At first insignificant, then increasingly familiar. She saw the outline of the Town Hall tower, but with two clock faces. She saw Heather Mountain, whose slopes rippled as if it were breathing. "Iga," said something, not in a voice, but in a movement of light. "Tymon." The air in the cave became cooler. Caraway wagged his tail, but did not run away. The tiles beneath their feet crackled silently, and a single droplet dripped from the vault, which went out halfway, turning to dust. "Who's there?" - Tymon lifted his chin. He didn't sound brave, but he sounded honest. That was enough. The answer was movement on the other side of the dome. The shadow that had just sailed like a sailing ship stopped and sank lower. Something like a hand flashed on the surface, but made of stardust. It nudged the dome and the dome trembled, and the bell, somewhere very far away, struck once more. Once that was not on any calendar. The path began to widen, as if to make room for someone else. The key in Iga's hand suddenly pulled forward, lightly, kindly but firmly. The star at its end lit up so brightly that they saw their own reflections, and in them - something else. The shadow of a third person standing next to them, where no one was standing. "Don't turn around," the light whispered. And then the door handle, which they had not seen before, emerged from the smooth surface like the moon from the clouds. It moved the slightest millimetre, as if someone on that side had just started pressing it.