Alice's fingers hover over the pocket watch. The glass is warm, humming faintly. She doesn't touch it. Not yet. The watch lies open in the center of a mushroom ring—a perfect circle of glowing caps, each one pulsing with a soft, phosphorescent light. The hands of the watch are moving. Backward. Faster now. The ticking is wrong. Instead of a steady beat, it stutters, like a heart that has forgotten its rhythm. "Tick tock, my dear." The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. Alice's head snaps up. There is nothing there. But then—a curl of pinkish-purple fur materializes in the air to her left. It fades. A pair of yellow eyes blink into existence, then vanish. And then the grin appears, hanging alone, impossibly wide. "You've been losing time without knowing it," says the Cheshire Cat. Alice pulls her hand back. "I haven't lost anything. I'm looking for the way home." The grin widens. "Home? Why, you've been walking in circles for hours. The Queen's trial is in three minutes. Or was it three years ago? Hard to tell. Time is... flexible here." Alice looks at the watch again. The hands are spinning so fast now they're a blur. The ticking becomes a high-pitched whine. She feels a pull, like gravity tilting sideways. The mushroom ring glows brighter. "Don't touch it," the Cat says, the grin flickering. "Unless you want to find out what happens when time runs out." But Alice's hand is already moving. Her fingers close around the watch. The world lurches. The forest stretches and twists. The grin dissolves into laughter. And Alice feels herself falling—not down, but sideways, into a space that has no name. When she opens her eyes, she is standing in a courtroom. The Queen of Hearts is staring at her. The Knave is in chains. And the White Rabbit is frantically checking a watch that is no longer in his hands. "The trial," the Rabbit whispers. "You're late." Alice looks down. The pocket watch is still in her grip. Its hands have stopped. At exactly six o'clock. The Queen's gavel slams down. "Off with her head!" But Alice is no longer sure whose head she means. The watch ticks once, backward, in her palm.