Ala and Bartek find a strange clock in Grandpa Leon's locked cellar and are sent straight into the past, where a crowded market and a warning stranger lead them toward something impossible.
Ala and Bartek loved spending summer holidays at Grandpa Leon's house. It stood at the end of a narrow street, with a garden full of apple trees and heavy hydrangea bushes. But the place they wanted most was the one Grandpa kept locked: the cellar.
One bright morning, while Grandpa Leon dozed in his armchair, Ala leaned close to her brother.
"Shall we?"
Bartek grinned. He did not need to be asked twice.
They slipped downstairs and pushed open the massive cellar door. It gave only a soft groan, as if even the house was listening. Inside, the air was cool and smelled of dust, damp stone, and old wood. Shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars of pickles, twisted tools, and forgotten things no one had touched for years.
At first, that was all. Then Ala spotted a shape half-hidden behind a sack of potatoes.
She froze. "Bartek... look."
He moved the sack aside.
There, in the corner, stood a clock unlike any they had ever seen. It was taller than Bartek, with spinning hands, tiny brass wheels, and buttons in bright colours that did not belong together at all. A silver plate on the front read: Professor Windmill Clock.
"It must be important," Ala whispered.
Bartek reached out and touched a lever.
A crackle burst from nowhere, followed by a burst of static, and then a voice spilled from the clock, tinny and urgent.
"If you are hearing this, you have found the Clock of the Past. Do not treat it like a toy. Choose the right date. Press the red button. And whatever you do, remember this: some answers are harder than the questions."
The voice clicked off.
Ala and Bartek stared at each other. Neither of them moved first. Then Ala swallowed, turned the dial to 1420, and Bartek pressed the red button.
The cellar vanished.
Wind roared around them. Their ears filled with buzzing light. The floor dropped away, and for one dizzy instant it felt as if the whole world had been spun inside out.
When the shaking stopped, they were standing in a market square.
Not their market. Not their town.
People in strange clothes hurried past carrying baskets, bundles, and clay jugs. Bakers called out from under striped awnings. Somewhere nearby, a horse snorted and a cart rattled over uneven stones. The smell of warm bread, smoke, and mud hung thick in the air.
Bartek grabbed Ala's hand.
A boy with a basket of eggs skidded past them, nearly colliding with an angry trader who shouted after him. Ala spun around in confusion, trying to make sense of the sounds, the colours, the crowds.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
No one answered.
A tall man in a wide dark coat stepped out of the crowd and looked straight at them. His gaze was so sharp it made Ala's skin prickle. He seemed to know exactly who they were.
He leaned closer and said, in a low voice, "You are here for the first time. Then you must be careful. Look for the sign of the clock..."
Before either of them could ask what he meant, a sudden crash rang out from the far side of the square. People gasped and turned. Something was forcing its way through the market, coming straight toward them.