Steampunk Adventure: Mollie Enters Clockwork Land

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It began with a sound that didn't belong in a garden. A faint ticking, like that of a pocket watch—only bigger. Mollie, the humanoid mole with dark fur and sunglasses, raised his head from his notebook. The tea was still steaming, the grass was damp with morning dew. But something was wrong. He stood up. His copper-colored vest crackled softly as the light reflected off the rune buttons. A bronze monocle automatically folded over his left lens. The small gears on it began to whir. He listened. The sound came from the lavender bed. Slowly, Mollie approached. With every movement, the circuitry suspenders clicked softly, the boots sank a little into the soft ground. And then he saw it. A single gear—half hidden in the grass, half glowing. It was spinning. Not like something mechanical, but like something thinking. Above it: a thin strip of light, like a crack in the air. Mollie bent down, touched the gear—and immediately the world snapped shut. A portal opened. Oval. Glowing. Fine, golden gears turned at the edges. Runes flickered, as old as stories. The rift widened until it was almost two meters high. Beyond it: another world. Towers of metal and moss, floating platforms, a giant clock in the sky, running backward. Mollie tightened his small tool belt, smoothed his vest, and stepped through. The air was different—not cold, not warm. It hummed. Mollie immediately heard the rhythmic pounding of a distant machine. Bronze trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves shimmering like glass. Small creatures with metal wings buzzed among steaming ferns. Something stepped out of the mist. A creature—half human, half clockwork. Eyes like shimmering gears, a transparent chest, within which a slowly beating heart of steam. It didn't speak. But from within, a melody sounded—like a piece of music someone had forgotten to continue playing. Mollie lowered her sunglasses slightly and looked closely at the creature. "Are you the Guardian?" it asked. The creature nodded. Then it pointed at Mollie's chest—where a tiny gear was now turning, just beneath her vest. "You're connected," it said. "To what?" "To the Clockwork of Transition. It chose you." Mollie smiled. "Then I suppose I should find out what it wants from me."