On an inner chamber of the Castle of Eternity, a great, sprawling expanse of gears and cogs, floating pocket watches suspended in midair, each ticking to the rhythm of a life. Some strong and steady, some faint, some silent forever.

At the center of it all, Time himself sat upon his throne of turning gears, arms crossed, his metallic fingers tapping against the armrest. His heavy, midnight-blue cloak billowed slightly in the unseen currents of time itself.

He sighed.

Something was amiss.

He could feel it.

Standing, he reached out a gloved hand and summoned a single watch into his palm.

A watch he had not touched in some time.

It was small, delicate, worn with age, its once-bright shell tarnished from years of quiet endurance. A faint, greenish shimmer reflected in its glass—the mark of the Mock Turtle.

For a moment, it still ticked. Soft. Slow. Fading.

Time's eyebrows furrowed.

He turned the watch over, observing the hands. The seconds wobbled unsteadily, the gears struggling.

One last tick.

One final tock.

Then—

Silence.

The hands of the watch froze in place.

"Mock Turtle…" Time's expression did not change, but his grip on the watch tightened ever so slightly.

"…you ticked your last tock, old friend?" he murmured.

The silence stretched. The other watches continued their endless ticking, uncaring.

Time exhaled slowly, then closed his fingers around the watch.

From within the gears of the chamber, a deep, distant chime rang out. A life had ended.

Time lowered his head for just a moment.

Not for long. Not for more than a breath.

Because Time does not stop.

Not even for grief.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the Mock Turtle's watch drifting toward the silent collection—the ones that no longer ticked, the ones that would never again move forward.

It settled gently among the others.

Time stepped back, glancing toward the vast, shifting machinery of fate.

The war in Wonderland continued.

The Mock Turtle's story had ended.

But Time knew better than most—

An ending was only ever the beginning of something else.

—-

The world beyond the Forest of Mirrors was eerily silent. The thick, twisting trees gave way to crumbling ruins, their jagged silhouettes stretching into a sky that swirled in unnatural hues. The air was heavy, charged with something old, something forgotten.

The White Rabbit adjusted his golden pocket watch, ears twitching as he took in their surroundings. His pink eyes landed on a looming tower in the distance—ancient, worn by time, yet still standing strong against the decay around it.

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing urgently. "That tower! We can enter the Castle of Eternity from there!"

Without hesitation, the group rushed forward, kicking up dust as they sprinted across the uneven ground.

But before they could reach the tower, they saw him.

A lone figure sat on a half-toppled stone, staring blankly at the sky, lost in thought.

An old lizard, his green scales dulled with age, wearing a soot-stained vest and a cap that seemed far too big for him. Old Lizard Bill..

His eyes were distant—empty. He did not notice them approaching, did not even blink at the sound of their hurried steps.

The March Hare slowed, his ears twitching. "Bill?"

No response.

The March Hare frowned, then stomped forward and clapped the Lizard's back—hard.

"Oi! Snap out of it!"

Bill blinked. Once. Twice.

His head turned slowly to look at them, as if it took great effort to return to reality.

"…Ah," he finally said, voice raspy and slow. His dull eyes flickered with the smallest spark of recognition.

"March Hare… fancy seeing you here."

The March Hare crossed his arms, ears twitching impatiently. "Bill, what in Wonderland are you doing here?"

The old lizard pondered for a long moment, his weathered hands resting on his knees. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, as if sorting through fragments of a lost memory.

At last, in a slow, creaky voice, he spoke.

"Last thing I remember… I was runnin'." His cloudy eyes blinked lazily, his gaze unfocused. "Runnin' fast as my old legs could take me."

His clawed fingers flexed, recalling the urgency of a time long past.

"I had a warning… a grave warning. The undead… They were comin'."

His voice wavered. "Had to reach the Queen, had to tell 'er, before it was too late."

His breathing grew shallow, as if the weight of his own words pressed upon his chest.

"But then…" His brow furrowed, and his long tail twitched. "I fell."

Silence.

The March Hare tilted his head. "Fell? Fell where?"

Bill let out a long, tired sigh.

"A hole." His voice turned distant again. "A strange hole. One that weren't supposed to be there."

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Tried to crawl out, but the more I climbed, the deeper I fell."

His eyes, lost in recollection, turned toward the looming tower in the distance.

"When I woke up… I was here. And I ain't been able to leave since."

The White Rabbit stomped his foot, ears flicking impatiently. "Oh, we don't have time for this!" He clutched his pocket watch, nearly frantic. "We've wasted enough time already—we need to get to the tower!"

The Duchess adjusted her hat and gave Bill a sympathetic look. "Poor dear, lost for who knows how long…"

But the March Hare wasn't about to leave him behind. He grinned, offering a paw to the old lizard. "Well then, Bill, fancy a ride?"

Bill blinked in confusion. "A ride?"

The March Hare turned around, giving his back a little pat. "We're in for another adventure like the last time. Hop on, and come with us!"

Bill hesitated, then chuckled—a dry, raspy sound. "Haven't been carried like that since I was a lad…"

Still, after a moment, he climbed onto the March Hare's back, his claws gripping the hare's shoulders as securely as he could manage.

"Right then! Hold on tight," the March Hare said, ears twitching with excitement.

The White Rabbit huffed. "If you're quite done, let's move!"

And so, with no time to lose, they raced toward the tower.

Upon reaching it, the group skidded to a halt at the Duchess' raised hand. She stepped forward, eyes narrowing as she scanned the crumbling stone tower. The air around them felt thick—heavy with something unseen.

Muttering under her breath, she traced a pattern in the air with her fingers, her voice slipping into an old chant. Faint, whispering echoes responded, as if the tower itself was listening.

The White Rabbit fidgeted, ears twitching. The March Hare adjusted his grip on Bill, while the Dormouse merely yawned, drowsy but alert.

Then, after a long pause, the Duchess clapped her hands together. "Alright. We're clear. Let's go."

With a flick of her wrist, she grasped the old wooden door and pulled it open. It groaned in protest, revealing the dimly lit interior. A spiral staircase wound upward, disappearing into the darkness above.

The White Rabbit was the first to step inside, muttering about wasted seconds. The March Hare followed, still carrying Bill, and the Dormouse scurried in after them.

The Duchess took one last glance over her shoulder before slipping inside, closing the door behind them.

Their footsteps echoed against the stone walls as they rushed up the long, winding spiral staircase. The White Rabbit was at the front, his paws gripping the railing as he practically hopped up each step.

"We're late, we're late, we're so terribly late," he muttered under his breath, ears flicking anxiously. "We should have been at the castle already! Oh dear, oh dear—Time waits for no one!"

The March Hare, still carrying Old Lizard Bill, panted as he bounded up the stairs behind him. "For once, I agree! Your watch may always be ticking, but my legs certainly are not used to this much running!"

The Dormouse, rubbing his eyes, yawned loudly. "I fail to see the urgency in all this… We're in a tower, aren't we? Towers are safe."

The Duchess, bringing up the rear, let out a scoff. "Hardly. Towers are traps waiting to be sprung."

The White Rabbit yelped at that, but he didn't slow down. The shadows flickered along the curving walls as their lanterns cast long, twisting shapes, making it feel like something lurked just beyond sight.

Higher and higher they climbed. And still, the White Rabbit muttered.

At last, the spiral staircase ended in a dimly lit circular chamber. In the center of the room stood an old grandfather clock, its wooden frame covered in dust and cobwebs, yet its golden pendulum still swayed, ticking in a steady rhythm. The air felt heavier here, thick with something unseen—time itself, perhaps.

The White Rabbit hesitated, ears twitching nervously. He turned to the Duchess.

"Are you sure you've got a plan on how to deal with Time?" he asked, gripping his pocket watch tightly.

The Duchess dusted off her sleeves and smirked. "Of course I do. Don't worry."

The March Hare frowned, shifting Old Lizard Bill on his back. "See, when someone says 'don't worry' in a place like this, I start worrying."

The Dormouse mumbled something about "I'd rather be asleep than lost in a time vortex," but no one paid him any mind.

The White Rabbit gulped, eyeing the towering clock face before them.

"Hope this doesn't end with us lost in the stream of time," he muttered under his breath. Then, with a deep breath, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his wristwatch, and held it closer to the grandfather clock.

The moment the two timepieces came near—a sudden force erupted.

A violent gust of wind burst from the clock's frame, howling like a storm, pulling them forward. The golden pendulum swung wildly as if time itself was unraveling.

Then—reality bent.

The White Rabbit barely had time to scream before they were all sucked into the clock, disappearing into the swirling abyss beyond the ticking hands.

Darkness. Then a sudden rush of color.

The White Rabbit, the March Hare, the Duchess, the Dormouse, and Old Lizard Bill were hurtling through a tunnel of shifting light, twisting gears, and endless ticking clocks. Time itself spiraled around them in a chaotic dance of gold and blue, the very fabric of reality bending and stretching as they were pulled forward.

The White Rabbit's ears flapped wildly as he tumbled through the stream, clutching his wristwatch for dear life. The March Hare let out a giddy laugh, while the Dormouse, still half-asleep, mumbled something about falling into a teacup.

Then—with a sudden jolt—they were thrown out of the swirling tunnel, landing on solid ground.

The group stood upon a vast floating pathway made of interlocking clock gears and ancient stone. Below them, an endless abyss stretched in every direction, filled with drifting timepieces—pocket watches, hourglasses, pendulums—ticking in perfect synchrony.

But their eyes were drawn forward.

In the distance, beyond the floating gears and broken bridges, stood the Castle of Eternity.

The massive fortress loomed over the horizon, its spiraling towers reaching into the stormy sky. The entire structure was built from obsidian and silver, glowing faintly as gears and cogs turned within its very walls. A great clock embedded in its highest tower ticked steadily, the hands moving at an unnervingly slow pace.

The White Rabbit's breath caught in his throat. "We made it…"

The Duchess adjusted her hat and dusted off her dress. "Of course we did. Now, let's not waste any more time—Time is expecting us."

The March Hare cracked his knuckles. "Expecting us? Oh, that's comforting."

The Dormouse yawned, blinking lazily at the towering structure ahead. "Well, I suppose we ought to knock, then?"

The White Rabbit took a step forward, swallowing his nerves. "No turning back now."

The group stopped at the edge of a massive, floating clock face.

Between them and the Castle of Eternity were two treacherous paths:

The Second Hand – A thin, fast-moving path that circled the clock at an alarming speed, threatening to throw off anyone who couldn't keep up.

The Minute Hand – A broader, steadier path, but with a dangerous obstacle—every time the Second Hand swept past, it nearly grazed the Minute Hand, forcing anyone on it to duck or risk being knocked off entirely.

The White Rabbit adjusted his monocle, his nose twitching with worry. "Oh dear, oh dear... This is most unfortunate."

The March Hare cracked his knuckles. "We could stand here and debate, but that castle isn't getting any closer. I say we run the fast track—Second Hand! Quick and clean!"

The White Rabbit's ears drooped. "Quick and disastrous, more like." He looked to the Duchess. "Surely you have a plan?"

The Duchess smirked. "Naturally." She examined both paths and then turned to the others. "You may pick whichever suits your preference, but I'll be taking the Minute Hand."

The March Hare groaned. "Oh, that's the slowest, most boring—"

"Yes," the Duchess interrupted, "but also the least likely to fling me into the abyss."

The White Rabbit tapped his foot anxiously, staring at the fast-moving Second Hand. Then, sighing, he adjusted his coat. "I'll go with the Duchess."

The March Hare huffed, rolling his shoulders. "Fine! I'll take the Second Hand—bet I'll reach the castle before you even get halfway!"

"I'll go with you," the Dormouse mumbled, stretching lazily.

The Old Lizard Bill scratched his head. "Not much of a runner these days, I think I'll stick with the White Rabbit."

With their paths decided, they each prepared to make their crossing.

As soon as the March Hare and Dormouse stepped onto the Second Hand, they were yanked forward, their feet sliding against the smooth surface.

"Whoo-hoo! This is exhilarating!" the March Hare howled, sprinting to keep up with the motion.

The Dormouse, still half-asleep, wobbled along behind him. "I'm too old for this…"

The speed made every step a battle for balance. One misstep and they'd be sent flying into the void.

The March Hare kept his footing, but he had to jump over small gaps in the spinning surface, his breath coming fast. "You lot are missing out!" he shouted back.

The Dormouse nearly stumbled, gripping onto the Hare's coat. "I don't think missing out is the problem!"

Meanwhile, the Duchess, White Rabbit, and Old Lizard Bill carefully made their way across the steadier, wider Minute Hand.

"This is much more dignified," the White Rabbit said, straightening his coat.

But just as he said that, the Second Hand came sweeping past—fast and low.

"Duck!" the Duchess yelled.

All three immediately dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding being swept off. The Second Hand rushed over them before continuing its relentless cycle.

The White Rabbit exhaled sharply. "Oh, I hate this."

Old Lizard Bill adjusted his hat. "Ah, reminds me of my youth, dodging giant spoons in the kitchen."

The Duchess merely chuckled. "Keep moving, gentlemen. Our window of safety is brief."

"Told you this one's better!," the March Hare yelled while obviously struggling to balance himself on the rapidly spinning Second Hand.

Either way, both groups pressed forward, racing toward the Castle of Eternity.

The March Hare and Dormouse were making fast progress, but their struggle against balance and momentum made every second risky.

The Duchess, White Rabbit, and Old Lizard Bill were slower, but their careful timing and precision ensured they stayed on course.

exact moment, breathless but victorious.

The March Hare huffed proudly, stretching his arms. "Told you we'd get here first!"

The White Rabbit adjusted his coat, ears twitching. "Technically, we arrived at the same time."

The Duchess, unbothered by the debate, strode toward the towering gates of the Castle of Eternity. Massive, ornate doors loomed before them, adorned with golden filigree that shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Without breaking stride, the Duchess placed a hand on the door, prepared to push it open.

"Wait!" The White Rabbit suddenly stepped forward, ears perked. "Shouldn't we knock first?"

The Duchess turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? I thought you said earlier that we're late."

The White Rabbit's ears drooped. He opened his mouth to argue—then promptly shut it. His nose twitched anxiously, but he offered no further objections.

The Duchess smirked before turning back to the gate. With a decisive push, the heavy doors creaked open, revealing the dim, sprawling halls beyond.

The others hesitated for just a moment before following her inside, stepping cautiously into the Castle of Eternity.

As the Duchess stepped through the grand doorway, the vast hall beyond was eerily still—until a few seconds later.

Suddenly, a flurry of movement erupted around them. Small, clockwork-like creatures, gears clicking and whirring, scrambled away in a frenzy of panic.

"The Duchess is here! The Duchess is here!" they screeched, their tiny metallic feet clanking against the floor as they darted into the shadows, vanishing behind pillars, beneath tables, or even into the gears embedded in the walls.

The White Rabbit flinched, ears standing stiff. "Oh dear, that's not ominous at all," he muttered under his breath.

However, amidst the chaos, one figure remained still. A tall, spindly man with copper-colored skin and an elaborate waistcoat, his face partly hidden behind a monocle of spinning clock hands, calmly approached the group.

The Duchess's lips curled into a smirk as she folded her arms. "Ah, Wilkins."

The man—Wilkins—gave her a slow, measured bow. "Duchess," he said in a voice as smooth as polished brass.

She waved a hand, cutting to the chase. "Where is Time?"

Wilkins adjusted his monocle, the tiny clock hands within it ticking rhythmically. "Time does not appreciate unannounced guests," he said, his tone polite but firm.

The Duchess chuckled, placing a hand on her hip. "And yet, here we are."

Wilkins let out a small sigh, then turned on his heel. "Follow me, then. If you must."

The White Rabbit exchanged a glance with the March Hare, who simply shrugged before they all followed Wilkins deeper into the Castle of Eternity.

The hallways were lined with massive gears, swinging pendulums, and shimmering hourglasses suspended in midair, their sands flowing in unpredictable directions. The air itself thrummed with a strange energy, as if the very walls breathed in the rhythm of time itself.

As they moved forward, a large golden door loomed ahead, engraved with the symbols of the sun and moon intertwining. Wilkins stopped before it and pressed a single gloved hand against the surface. The gears beneath his fingers clicked and whirred, unlocking the heavy door with a deep, resonating chime.

He stepped aside, motioning toward the entrance. "Time awaits."

The Duchess strode forward without hesitation, her confidence unwavering.

The others, however, hesitated for just a moment. The White Rabbit gulped audibly. "Well… here goes nothing."

One by one, they stepped through the doorway—into the very heart of Time's domain.