Wiki and her cousin Maks find a strange clock hidden in a forgotten workshop. One twist of its dial sends them somewhere impossible, and the way home is suddenly gone.
Wiki loved summer in the countryside, especially now that her cousin Maks and his family had moved into his great-grandfather’s old house. Most days were slow and quiet, the kind of days that made every sound feel bigger than it should. Then the rain came.
It arrived all at once, drumming on the roof and turning the yard into a blur of silver. Wiki and Maks sprinted across the path and ducked into the workshop at the edge of the property, the one no one had entered for years. The air inside was thick with dust and old wood. Shelves leaned under the weight of rusted tools, and a pale strip of light from a dirty window cut through the dark like a blade.
That was when Wiki saw the clock.
It stood in the middle of the room, far too large to have been forgotten, with a black pendulum and a face marked not with numbers, but with strange symbols that looked like the signs on ancient maps. Maks stepped closer, his eyes bright with the same dangerous curiosity he always got when something was obviously not meant to be touched.
"Don’t," Wiki said, but he was already reaching for the small dial beneath the clock face.
The moment he turned it, the ticking grew louder. Faster. Harder. The sound filled the workshop until it seemed to shake the walls. Gold light spilled from the clock’s frame, flooding the room, wrapping around Wiki and Maks like warm smoke.
Wiki shut her eyes.
When she opened them again, the workshop was gone.
Tall green plants swayed around them, and the air smelled of earth, leaves, and something wild and unfamiliar. Birds called from the trees, their songs sharp and strange. Beyond the thick brush, Wiki could see people moving between the trunks, dressed in leather tunics, with feathered bands tied around their heads.
Maks gripped her hand so tightly it hurt.
"Where are we?" Wiki whispered.
Before Maks could answer, a boy stepped out from behind a tree. He carried a wooden bow in one hand and looked about their age, but his clothes were unlike anything Wiki had ever seen. He stared at them for a moment, then broke into a wide, easy smile.
"Are you new to the village?" he asked in Polish, though his accent sounded old, almost unfamiliar.
Wiki’s stomach tightened. She looked around for the clock, for the workshop, for anything that made sense. There was nothing.
The boy took a step closer, still smiling, and Wiki realised with a jolt that he was carrying something tied to his belt: a small brass key, shaped exactly like the one on the clock.