The Town Where Clocks Don’t Tick

The next morning, the forest didn't look the same.

The light through the branches had changed less dappled, more diffused, like the sun was unsure if it should shine here at all. Mira stood at the edge of Hollow Grove with Lucan beside her, the silver key tucked safely in her coat pocket.

She hadn't told him about the girl at her window.

Not yet.

Instead, she'd copied the message into her notebook and underlined the most chilling part.

"Bring the boy. But beware he is not who he thinks he is."

Lucan glanced at her as they stepped into the grove. "You sure this is the right place?"

"No," Mira said honestly. "But I think the key will tell us when we are."

The trees greeted them like sentinels tall, twisted, and ancient. The deeper they went, the quieter everything became. Even the birdsong faded, replaced by the soft creak of branches and the occasional whisper of something moving just out of sight.

The forest floor was covered in thick, dark moss that shimmered faintly in the shade. Mira paused to examine it more closely. Beneath the moss, thin red tendrils like roots pulsed ever so slightly, like veins beneath skin.

Lucan crouched beside her. "Velvet roots?"

She nodded. "Looks like they're… breathing."

They followed the trail of roots, which grew more tangled and vibrant as they went. Eventually, the trees parted into a small clearing circular, perfectly symmetrical, like it had been carved out with intention. At the center stood a low stone arch, half buried in ivy and earth.

The key in Mira's pocket grew hot.

She pulled it out. It pulsed with faint silver light.

Lucan stared at the arch. "That's not a doorway."

"Not yet," Mira said. "But it wants to be."

She approached slowly, raising the key. As she brought it closer to the arch, a groove in the stone lit up spiraling around a small, flower shaped lock hidden beneath the ivy.

Mira pressed the key in.

Click.

The ground rumbled.

The velvet roots began to retract, curling away from the arch like they were afraid. The center of the arch shimmered and then bloomed. Not open like a door, but like a wound, tearing into a space that wasn't forest.

Through the opening, they saw a hallway of red mist and silver leaves, glowing faintly.

Lucan stepped back. "We don't have to go in right now."

But Mira had already stepped forward.

"I think we do."

She crossed the threshold.

Lucan followed.

The air inside was heavy and sweet, like honey left too long in the sun. The silver leaves rustled with no wind. As they walked, the ground beneath them changed first stone, then wood, then something like glass that reflected stars.

And then the hallway ended.

In a chamber unlike anything Mira had imagined.

A massive tree grew from the center of the room its bark a deep violet, its leaves glowing gold. The roots spread across the floor, curling around mirrors, books, candles… and bones.

Lucan exhaled. "What is this place?"

Mira stepped closer to the tree. At its base was a pedestal, and on it, a second key this one black, smooth, shaped like a crescent moon.

But before she could reach it, the tree spoke.

Not aloud.

Inside her.

Mira… Mira, daughter of those who remembered. You have unlocked the first. But the second will cost you.

She froze.

Lucan looked at her, confused. "What?"

"You didn't hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The voice spoke again.

He cannot hear us. He was not meant to.

Mira's heart thudded. "Why not?"

The tree was silent.

Lucan took a step toward her. "Mira? What's going on?"

Before she could answer, the chamber shook.

A deep creaking echoed through the space as one of the roots moved.

And then

The pedestal cracked.

The black key fell.

And from the shadows at the edge of the chamber, something stirred.