She blinked. Gone.
Then nothing.
Steam hissed from the bathroom as the shower kicked on. Lasi stood still in the middle of the room. Her eyes fell to the wrapped bundle on her bed—soft, neat, waiting.
It felt placed.
Not just set there. Presented.
She sat, fingers trembling, and peeled back the cloth.
Inside: a pendant with a chipped green stone. Faded photographs of strange moons and cities that didn't exist. A child's drawing—two figures, hand in hand, beneath a triple sun. Each item struck her like déjà vu sharp enough to draw blood.
A note, folded and refolded:
To be, to be not, to be you nor to be me, to be ourselves, to be one.
It meant nothing.
And yet—her heart skipped, a pulse of knowing she couldn't trace.
Beneath it all, a small, worn journal.
The handwriting made her stomach twist.
It looked like hers. Or someone trying very hard to be her.
She opened it.
Year 2250 – Cycle 743 – Passage Begins.
The entries weren't normal. They read like transmissions from another reality. Descriptions of a rite—Bright of Light Passage.
Two weeks. Alone. At twenty-five, everyone took it.
And came back… different. If they came back at all. Myth. It had to be.
But the specificity unnerved her.
She read, half-hypnotized, until the sound of the shower cut off—abrupt.
Startling.
She shoved the journal under her mattress just as Scarlet emerged, toweling off, blinking through damp hair.
"Please tell me you didn't open it without me."
"I waited," Lasi lied.
They unwrapped the rest together.
Photos. Metal keys. Flowers sealed in resin like trophies.
One letter in an alien script. Not gibberish—Lasi could almost read it. Like it was written just out of reach.
…a sealed envelope labeled Only When the Stars Go Quiet, and an old paper map of a coastline neither of them recognized.
There were red pen marks overlaid—circles, lines, symbols that looked half like coordinates and half like nonsense.
Scarlet frowned.
"Is that—where is that? Doesn't look like Earth."
Lasi shook her head, staring at the twisting lines that seemed to shimmer if you looked too long.
"Maybe it's not supposed to be a place. Maybe it's a memory. Or a code."
Scarlet raised an eyebrow.
"Lasi, people don't just get mystery boxes full of alternate identities and dream-notes about 'passages.'
This is straight out of a weird cult initiation."
Lasi stared down at the chipped green stone pendant.
"Maybe I'm already in one."
The dorm lights dimmed slightly, reacting to ambient stress levels.
Scarlet exhaled and sat cross-legged on her bed.
"Okay. Real talk. That woman from the hospital—she knew something. And now she's dead. Or… glitched. I don't know what to call what we saw. You're seeing stuff that isn't there. You're holding relics that might be from some alternate timeline—"
"Not might," Lasi cut in. Her voice was steady. "They are."
Scarlet stared at her for a long moment, then leaned back against the headboard.
"Then what the hell do we do?"
Lasi picked up the sealed envelope. Her thumb ran over the wax seal—an unfamiliar insignia. It pulsed faintly under her touch, like the chip in her pocket.
"We follow it," she said. "All of it.
Whatever this is—it started already. That chip, this journal, the visions—none of it is random. It's waking me up."
Scarlet glanced at the journal again, unease flickering across her face.
"You realize this is how horror sims start, right? 'Oh look, a haunted diary, let's just dive headfirst into the interdimensional maze and never tell the adults.'"
Lasi didn't smile.
"This isn't fiction. This is me. I don't know how I know that, but I do."
She looked out the window, where the sky shimmered with artificial auroras and glitching clouds. Somewhere beyond the city, beyond the noise, something called to her.
The pendant in her hand felt warm now.
Scarlet sat up slowly, brushing damp hair from her eyes.
"Then I'm coming with you. If you fall into another vision or start speaking in tongues or grow a second head, someone's gotta pull you out."
Lasi gave a slow nod.
"Thanks."
"No big," Scarlet said, grabbing her boots.
"Besides, if this is going full prophecy-mode, I want to make sure I get a cool title. Something like 'Watcher of the Lost' or 'Queen of Backup Plans.'"
They both laughed—but the moment was thin, like glass stretched too far.
Outside, a low hum moved across the horizon. Not a drone. Not traffic.
Something older.
Lasi turned toward the bundle one last time. Inside the journal, a second folded page had slipped loose. She hadn't noticed it before.
She opened it slowly.
It was a hand-drawn image—her own face, but older. Eyes different. Marked with something like starlight.
Beneath it, a single sentence:
When the sky breaks open, step through. Not away.
She stared at it, pulse quickening.
Scarlet leaned over, reading it with her.
"So… what the hell does that mean?"
Lasi looked up, the stars behind her eyes beginning to realign.
"It means," she said, voice like a match just struck, "this is just the beginning."
Scarlet lifted a photo and cackled.
"Is this a cape?" she said.
"With glowing gloves?"
"You'd look amazing," Lasi said.
"I'd look possessed."
They laughed. They both needed the laugh.
"I mean," Scarlet said, stifling a yawn, "if this is a secret time-travel cult thing, I just hope they give us cooler shoes."
"And matching jackets."
"Obviously."
Scarlet collapsed onto the floor pillows, stretching out like she hadn't slept in days.
"Wake me if we get haunted."
Her eyes shut. Sleep found her fast.
Lasi sat still, listening to the dorm hum.
Far off, the holo-interface blinked faintly—off.
But for a second, she thought she saw a shimmer.
Like the edges of Mother's smile never really left.