The night over Krakow was restless. The June rain was pitter-pattering on the cobbles of Dark Clocks Street as Kaja, Filip and Lena huddled together under an umbrella, trotting towards the ruined watchmaker's workshop. They had known the place for years - it stood empty, with broken windows, and the only thing left of its former owner was a faded signboard with scratched gold numerals and an image of a pendulum clock. That evening they decided to go inside. They weren't looking for fear - they were already too grown up for that. They wanted a challenge, something you don't find on TikTok or in any game. Kaja, the bravest among them, pushed the door open with her elbow. It creaked so loudly that Philip jumped up. Inside the workshop was semi-darkness and the smell of old mechanisms. Clock parts, gears and springs stood on shelves. Lena moved her finger across the table, picking up a layer of dust. Then their gaze was caught by a clock standing in the corner - a large one, with an intricately carved case, covered in symbols resembling numerals they had never seen before. - Have you seen it? - Kaja asked quietly. They walked closer. The clock was ticking, even though no one had given it a spring for years. Not only were the hands moving on its dial, but also something else - tiny luminous dots moving in a circle, as if time were flowing here in several ways at once. Next to the clock lay an old notebook. Philip opened it carefully. On the first page his hand, in slightly trembling handwriting, had written: "Not everyone who feels the passage of time can understand it. But some can experience it." - 'Maybe this is some philosophical nonsense,' Lena muttered, but rather to drown out her own uncertain heartbeat. At the back of the notebook, tucked between the pages, was a key. Kaja instinctively fitted it into the small lock on the front of the clock. The lock clicked quietly, and the pendulum suddenly stopped... and moved backwards. The light in the workshop seemed to change colour. There was a glow seeping through the broken glass that they had never seen here before. Every object gained slightly blurred outlines, and the air was filled with a ticking sound, ever faster, ever more insistent. Suddenly, the clock flared from within, spilling a cold blue glow around them. In front of them, instead of the usual wall, there appeared something like a swirling portal in which images flashed by: the market square of Krakow a thousand years ago, the January Uprising, their own faces - older and younger at the same time. - What now? - asked Filip, his voice breaking. - 'Now we decide,' whispered Kaja and took a step towards the clock, which pulsed with light, as if waiting for their choice. At that very moment, the floor began to tremble and the hands on the dial jumped violently. The portal brightened to a blinding white, and a metallic clatter sounded behind their backs, as if the workshop had left them forever....