When Lena and Igor find an old clock in the attic, they step into a strange world where the air shivers, the moons are pink, and something is already counting down.
Lena hated stormy evenings. The wind always seemed to find the cracks in the house, making the windows rattle and the floorboards whisper. That night she and her younger brother Igor sat cross-legged on the carpet, trying to finish a jigsaw puzzle by the light of a lamp, when a long, low creak drifted down from above.
Igor looked up at once. "Did you hear that?"
Lena did not answer right away. She had heard it, all right. She just did not like the way it sounded, as if something heavy had shifted in the attic.
"Probably just the old boxes," Igor said, already climbing to his feet.
Lena sighed and followed him, because leaving him alone was worse than going upstairs. They crept past their parents' room and stopped at the dark wooden door at the end of the hall. Igor found the key hanging on its nail, turned it, and pushed.
The door gave a tired groan. Dust swirled into their faces, carrying the smell of old paper, dry wood, and forgotten things.
The attic was dim, all slanted beams and cobwebs. Then Lena saw it: a huge clock standing by the window, tall as a wardrobe, its brass face filmed with dust. A pendulum hung motionless inside, yet something about it made her skin prickle, as if it were listening.
Igor had already crossed the room. He brushed the cobwebs from the clock door and froze.
A tiny silver key was stuck in the lock.
"It looks like a fairy-tale clock," he whispered.
"Igor, don't touch it," Lena said, too late.
He turned the key.
At once the clock shuddered. The hands spun so fast they became a blur. A blue light flashed from behind the glass, bright enough to sting Lena's eyes, and the attic floor jolted beneath her feet like a ship in a storm.
"Lena!"
Igor's voice seemed to fly away from her.
The attic vanished.
One moment they were standing among boxes and dust, and the next they were in a wide clearing where the grass shimmered in rainbow colours. Above them, three pink moons hung in a sky so deep it looked painted. Somewhere nearby, bells rang softly, and something invisible rustled through the air.
Lena gripped Igor's hand. Her heart hammered so hard it hurt.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
A rustle answered from the glowing bushes.
Something slender slid out from the leaves, with silver-green fur and eyes bright as emeralds. It stopped only a few steps away and tilted its head, as if it had been waiting for them.
Then, in a voice like music, it said, "You have chosen the path of Shadows. And the clock is already counting down..."
Far away, a bell rang once.
The sky flickered.