The White Rabbit, the Duchess, the March Hare, the Dormouse and Old Lizard Bill all emerged into a vast surreal expanse unlike anything they had ever seen. The ground beneath them was a mosaic of fractured stone and shimmering glass, as if reality itself had split apart and tried to piece itself back together. Floating gears, ancient hourglasses suspended in midair, and distorted clock faces slowly drifted through the space, ticking and tocking out of sync. The air was thick with a strange hum, a sensation that made the hairs on their arms stand on end.
"So... where do we go from here?" the White Rabbit asked, his ears twitching as he looked around warily.
The Duchess, hands on her hips, let out an exasperated sigh. "How should I know? This is my first time here too."
The March Hare glanced around, ears flicking. "Well, isn't that just wonderful."
The Dormouse, still slightly drowsy, peered at a floating pocket watch that whirled past. "Are we sure this is even real?"
Old Lizard Bill, lagging behind as usual, scratched the back of his head. "Uh, is everyone seeing that?."
The others turned at Old Lizard Bill's hesitant words, following his trembling claw as he pointed toward the shifting landscape.
At first, it seemed like just another oddity of the Rift of Time—a swirl of golden dust hovering in the air, twisting and curling like a living thing. But as they stared, the shimmering particles began to take shape, morphing into figures, translucent and flickering.
Silhouettes of people.
Not just any people. Themselves.
Scattered through the rift, shifting in and out of existence, were eerie, distorted reflections of the White Rabbit, the Duchess, the March Hare, the Dormouse—each frozen in a moment yet to happen, their faces warped in expressions of terror, desperation, or pain.
One version of the White Rabbit was kneeling, clutching his chest as if struggling to breathe.
A flickering Duchess was screaming in fury, firing shadow bolts into the void.
The March Hare was sprawled on the ground, unmoving.
The Dormouse, eyes wide with fear, was reaching for something—or someone—just out of sight.
And worst of all, their own voices—whispered echoes of words they hadn't spoken yet—drifted through the air like a ghostly warning.
"We were too late..."
"No—NO! This isn't how it was supposed to go!"
"RUN! RUN NOW!"
The March Hare's fur bristled. "What in the name of madness is this?"
The White Rabbit swallowed hard. "It's… a warning."
The Duchess exhaled sharply, shaking off the eerie visions before them. "Enough gawking. We don't have time for this."
She strode forward with purpose, her boots barely making a sound on the unstable ground. "The Chronosphere is here somewhere. We have to find it now."
The March Hare cast a wary glance at the flickering echoes of themselves. "And what if these… things are showing us the future?"
"Then we make damn sure it doesn't happen." The Duchess didn't look back. "Standing around won't change a thing. Move!"
The White Rabbit clenched his fists, forcing himself to step past his own dying reflection. "Well..you're right."
"Then we make damn sure it doesn't happen." The Duchess didn't look back. "Standing around won't change a thing. Move!"
The White Rabbit clenched his fists, forcing himself to step past his own dying reflection. "Well..you're right."
With that, they pressed on, deeper into the heart of the Rift of Time, the eerie whispers of their possible fates trailing behind them like ghosts.
Time itself was unstable here—fractured into fleeting visions, swirling distortions, and eerie projections of moments yet to pass.
The March Hare suddenly let out a startled yelp as the ground beneath him flickered out of existence for a split second. He stumbled, nearly falling forward, but the Dormouse caught the back of his coat just in time.
"Careful there," the Dormouse muttered, shaking her head. "This place looks like a death trap."
Ahead of them, a floating mirror shimmered into existence, reflecting not their current forms, but older versions of themselves—weathered by time, battle, and loss. The Duchess paused, her gaze locking onto her own reflection. Her future self stood tall, regal, but with deep scars across her arms, her eyes hardened with experience.
The White Rabbit turned pale when he saw his own reflection. His ears were tattered, his once pristine coat burned and dirtied. His future self looked exhausted, but there was a steel-like determination in his eyes.
"Not all futures are set in stone," the Duchess finally murmured, breaking the silence. With a sharp exhale, she turned away. "Let's keep moving."
As if the Rift itself was trying to test them, a pocket watch the size of a boulder suddenly came crashing down from above, slamming into the shifting ground with a deafening boom. Old Lizard Bill yelped, diving out of the way as gears and clock hands scattered like shrapnel.
"Oh, bloody hell!" he gasped, clutching his chest. "This place is gonna be the end of me!"
The March Hare grimaced as the ground beneath them rippled like water, forcing him to steady himself against the White Rabbit. "I don't like this. I don't like this one bit."
The Duchess, unshaken, surveyed the ever-changing horizon. "Then let's hurry up and find the damn Chronosphere before this place decides to eat us alive."
They pressed on, the echoes of time distorting around them, visions flickering in and out of existence—glimpses of battles not yet fought, betrayals that hadn't happened, and victories they hadn't won. The only certainty was that the longer they stayed, the more unstable everything became.
Then, a thundering voice echoed through the Rift, shaking the very fabric of the unstable realm.
"Fools! You've just let Wonderland march to its own destruction!"
The air around them cracked like shattered glass, and suddenly, figures began to materialize—their forms flickering between shadow and light, their outlines shifting as if they existed in multiple timelines at once.
The White Rabbit, the March Hare, and the others flinched, instinctively stepping back.
The March Hare was the first to speak, raising his hands. "What? We just got here!"
One of the figures, cloaked in tattered robes and radiating an aura of time-worn sorrow, stepped forward. "But you led him here!"
"Him?" The Duchess narrowed her eyes. "Who are you talking about?"
A second figure, their voice colder and sharper, growled out: "The Executioner."
A suffocating silence followed.
The White Rabbit's ears stiffened. "No… that's impossible." His voice wavered. "We made sure —"
"Fool." The first figure cut him off, their tone sharpening. "We hid the Chronosphere here, in the Rift of Time, to keep it out of his reach! But now…"
They all turned their eyes to the shifting expanse ahead.
The very air fractured like a splintering mirror, jagged cracks of pure darkness cutting through the Rift. A deep, suffocating presence loomed beyond the fissure, unseen but undeniably there.
The March Hare swallowed hard. "Oh… oh no."
Then, with a slow, deliberate force, a dark figure stepped through the rupture.
His armor was black as night, battered but unbroken. His stance was rigid, yet eerily smooth. And in his grip, he held a greatsword slick with crimson mist, its very presence distorting the space around it.
But where his head should have been, there was only emptiness.
The Headless Swordsman took a slow step forward, the air around him distorting as if time itself recoiled from his presence. His voice, an unnatural echo that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, cut through the Rift.
"Give me the Chronosphere… and I will spare all of you."
The second figure stepped forward defiantly, their spectral form flickering with determination.
"Never."
A moment of silence stretched between them—tense, suffocating. Then the Swordsman tilted his body ever so slightly before lunging forward, his greatsword slicing through the space between them like a rift through time.
The figures reacted instantly. One of them thrust their hands forward, ancient incantations spilling from their lips in a desperate chant.
A wave of blistering cold erupted outward, freezing the Swordsman mid-strike. Frost crawled over his armor, encasing him in thick layers of glacial ice.
The White Rabbit staggered back, gripping his chest. "Did… did that work?"
For a fleeting moment, the Rift stood still.
Then—
A sharp, jagged crack splintered through the ice.
Another.
Then another.
A deep, rumbling pressure filled the air as the Headless Swordsman's prison fractured—until, with an earsplitting shatter, he broke free.
Frost-drenched armor gleamed in the Rift's eerie glow. His sword whirred to life once more, the red mist thickening around its blade.
The Swordsman turned his headless gaze toward them.
"Futile."
And then, he attacked again.
Another one of the figures—a cloaked specter wreathed in shimmering blue light—thrust their arms forward, ancient symbols spiraling into the air as they chanted.
"You led him here!" their voice rang, reverberating through the Rift. "Now you must stop him!"
A surge of energy exploded outward, wrapping around the White Rabbit, the Duchess, the March Hare, the Dormouse, and Old Lizard Bill.
The Duchess gasped, feeling the sudden rush of strength. Her muscles tensed, as if she had just downed an entire pot of raw energy.
The White Rabbit's ears stood on end as newfound power coursed through him. His hands no longer trembled, his stance firmed.
The March Hare clenched his fists, feeling lighter, stronger. "Hah! I feel like I could tear through time itself!"
The Dormouse flexed her tiny arms. "…I actually feel awake."
Old Lizard Bill looked down at his wrinkled hands, now steady and sure. He exhaled sharply. "I haven't felt this young in decades."
The spectral figure's glow began to fade, weakened by the spell. Their voice trembled but held firm. "Now fight! The Headless Swordsman cannot be allowed to take the Chronosphere!"
The Duchess gritted her teeth, drawing her weapon. "Tch. Guess we don't have a choice."
The White Rabbit took a stance, gripping his pocket watch tightly, his eyes burning with determination. "Let's finish what we started."
The Headless Swordsman tilted his body ever so slightly—turned his attention to them.
A sickening crack shattered the air—the ice barrier finally broke.
The Headless Swordsman lunged forward once more, blade raised high.
Just as the Headless Swordsman's blade came crashing down, the very air between him and the figure rippled and tore open.
A hole—dark and shifting—manifested out of nowhere, as if time itself had folded.
For a brief moment, the Headless Swordsman hesitated, his motion stuttering as he instinctively reeled back.
But then—
BOOM!
A blur of fur and motion sprang from the void.
The March Hare, mid-leap, twisted his body and swung down with all his might—his enormous mallet colliding with the Headless Swordsman's blade.
CLANG!
A deafening shockwave blasted through the Rift of Time. The force sent cracks crawling across the ground beneath them, and dust and shimmering motes of displaced time spiraled into the air.
The March Hare, teeth gritted, held his ground, pushing against the sheer weight of the Headless Swordsman's strike. His enchanted strength burned within him, muscles flexing, ears twitching wildly.
"Tch! You hit like a bloody boulder!" the March Hare grunted, his feet skidding slightly.
The Headless Swordsman did not speak—he merely pressed down harder, the jagged edge of his massive sword grinding against the surface of the mallet.
Sparks flew.
For a split second, it seemed as though the Headless Swordsman's brute force might win out—
But then, the White Rabbit charged forward, his pocket watch clutched in one hand, the other curling into a fist.
"Now!" he shouted.
The White Rabbit lunged in, his enchanted strength surging through his limbs. With a fierce spin, he smashed his pocket watch against the Headless Swordsman's blade, the impact sending another burst of energy crackling through the air.
"Tick-tock—you're out of time!" he growled, his pocket watch glowing faintly from the impact.
The Headless Swordsman reeled slightly, his blade jolted from the combined force of the Rabbit and the March Hare.
But before he could recover—
THWACK!
A tiny, furious blur shot forward and smashed her fist right into the Swordsman's armored side.
The Dormouse.
Despite her small stature, the enchantment made her strike land like a sledgehammer. The impact dented the dark steel of the Swordsman's side, sending a hollow, metallic groan echoing through the Rift of Time.
"Ha! That actually worked!" the Dormouse blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "Let's see if it works again!"
She twisted and aimed another punch—
But the Headless Swordsman moved unnaturally fast.
He swung his arm and batted her away like a ragdoll.
"GAH!" she yelped, flying backward—until a green-scaled hand caught her.
Old Lizard Bill.
The old reptile set her down and drew his rusted sword. His grip was tight, but his knees shook slightly.
"I reckon it's about time I start swingin'," he muttered, then charged in.
The Headless Swordsman pivoted, blade raised—
BANG! BANG!
Two gunshots rang through the Rift.
The Duchess, dual pistols smoking, had fired directly at the Swordsman's chest. The enchanted bullets slammed into his armor, forcing him to stumble backward slightly.
She smirked. "Well, look at that. Even the 'unstoppable' executioner can be pushed back."
The Headless Swordsman stood still.
His armor rattled, almost… amused.
Suddenly, a low, eerie laughter echoed from within the empty void where the Headless Swordsman's head should have been.
A hollow, unnatural sound.
The air grew thick with something vile—something ancient.
Then—black smoke erupted from his armor.
"Fall back!" the Duchess barked.
Instinctively, they staggered backward, shielding their faces as the dark fog billowed outward, swallowing the Swordsman whole. The Rift itself seemed to tremble, the very fabric of time distorting around the cloud of shadows.
Through the shifting blackness, his shape began to change.
His frame stretched, warped, twisted.
The metal of his armor groaned and cracked as his form grew larger—his arms lengthened, his fingers sharpened into jagged claws.
From within the darkness, two burning embers of red light flared to life—eyes where there had once been nothing.
The black fog began to coil inward, tightening around his new form.
When the last wisp of smoke dissipated, he stood before them, fully transformed.
No longer just a Headless Swordsman—
But a nightmare clad in jagged black steel, his towering form crackling with dark energy.
His blade had changed too—longer, serrated, pulsating with unnatural power.
The laughter came again, deeper now. Hungrier.
And with one sudden movement, he vanished—
—only to reappear right behind them.
"MOVE!" the White Rabbit screamed.
The White Rabbit barely had time to react.
A chill ran down his spine as the dark presence loomed behind them.
SHING!
The newly transformed Headless Swordsman's blade swung in a vicious arc—aiming to cleave them in two.
CLANG!
The March Hare intercepted just in time—his massive mallet slamming into the sword's edge, knocking the strike aside.
But the force sent the Hare skidding backward, his feet scraping the ground.
"Tch! He's even stronger now!" he spat.
The Dormouse didn't hesitate.
With a flash of movement, she leaped forward—her fist glowing as she drove it straight into the Swordsman's chest.
BOOM!
The impact sent out a shockwave, the Swordsman barely flinching.
The Dormouse's eyes widened. "No way…"
Then, in a blur, the Swordsman grabbed her by the face—lifting her off the ground.
"GAH—!"
Before he could crush her skull, a blade slashed through the air!
Old Lizard Bill!
The old reptile lunged in, his sword flashing, aiming straight for the Swordsman's exposed side.
A direct hit—!
But—the blade stopped cold.
It didn't cut.
It didn't even scratch.
The Headless Swordsman turned slowly, his fiery eyes narrowing.
Then—he swung the Dormouse's body like a club, slamming her into Bill.
CRASH!
Both of them went tumbling across the ground, groaning in pain.
The Duchess gritted her teeth, pulling out her pistols.
"Oh, screw this."
She raised both guns—BANG! BANG! BANG!
Bullets rained down.
They pinged uselessly off his armor.
The Headless Swordsman didn't even flinch.
Instead, he vanished again.
The White Rabbit's ears twitched.
His eyes snapped to the right.
"DUCHESS, MOVE!"
She barely had time to react—
The Swordsman reappeared, blade raised.
A downward swing—!
The Duchess rolled aside at the last second—just as his sword crashed into the ground, splitting the earth beneath them.
"This isn't working!" The March Hare growled.
The White Rabbit clenched his fists.
And then…
CRACK!
A pillar of ice erupted from the ground—sharp, jagged, and relentless.
The Headless Swordsman had no time to react.
The freezing tendrils of ice snaked around his armor, locking his limbs in place.
His blade froze mid-swing.
For the first time since the battle began, he was truly trapped.
The air was thick with frost as mist coiled from the ice prison.
The figure who had cast the spell turned toward them.
Their breath was heavy, strained. They couldn't hold this forever.
"We have no choice!"
With a sudden motion, they hurled a glowing object through the air—
A brilliant orb, shimmering with golden light.
The Chronosphere.
The White Rabbit's eyes widened as it spun toward them.
He leaped forward—his paws catching it just in time.
"Protect that with your life!" the figure barked. "Now GO! Leave before he breaks free!"
The March Hare hesitated. "But—!"
"GO!"
The ice around the Headless Swordsman began to crack.
A low, chilling growl rumbled from within.
The White Rabbit clutched the Chronosphere to his chest. His ears twitched.
They had no time.
He turned and bolted.
"MOVE!" he shouted.
The Duchess, the March Hare, Dormouse, and Old Lizard Bill didn't need to be told twice.
They ran.
As they disappeared out of the Rift of Time, the last thing they heard was—
The ice shattering.
And the Headless Swordsman's unearthly roar.
The air around them shimmered as they burst through the portal, the fabric of time itself twisting before snapping them back into the treasury.
The moment their feet hit the ground, the White Rabbit staggered, his breath ragged. The Chronosphere pulsed faintly in his grasp.
The March Hare rubbed his temples. "What will we do now?"
The Duchess spun to face him, eyes blazing. "We find the rest of the key's fragments."
She jabbed a finger toward the White Rabbit. "Rabbit! Get us out of here."
The White Rabbit blinked rapidly, his ears twitching. "To where?"
"To anywhere for now! We just need to escape from him!" The Duchess's voice was sharp, urgent.
The White Rabbit swallowed hard. He could still feel the lingering presence of the Headless Swordsman, like a shadow looming just beyond the veil of time.
No arguments. No second guesses.
With a flick of his pocket watch, the world spun once more. And with that, they fell into another hole.