The sun had barely touched the sky, yet Koyi sat still by her desk, staring at the small cedarwood box. Its heart-shaped clasp glinted softly in the morning light. She hadn't touched it since she placed it there hours ago, and yet it had haunted her thoughts the entire night.
The letter's words echoed: "When you're ready to remember…"
She didn't know if she was ready. But maybe readiness was a myth — maybe some truths couldn't wait.
With a trembling hand, she lifted the clasp.
Click.
The lock gave way.
Inside lay a delicate, pale-blue envelope — aged at the corners — and beneath it, a single, smooth silver locket with no chain. Her name, Koyi, was engraved faintly on the back of the locket in tiny cursive.
Her throat tightened. She didn't recognize it.
Not yet.
She picked up the envelope. It smelled faintly of lavender — a scent that immediately pulled her backward into a forgotten time.
She opened the letter.
---
**"Dear Koyi,
You have forgotten more than you remember.
This isn't your first time walking this path. You've made choices before — ones that shaped your world in silence. I am writing not to warn you, but to awaken you.
The locket belongs to a version of you that once dared to change everything. But time has a cost.
Your dreams are not dreams. They're shadows of the truth.
Your fears are not fears. They're echoes of decisions once made.
Put on the locket. You'll see.
But be warned…
Some memories do not return gently.
With love,
— Tomorrow's Keeper"**
---
Koyi let the letter fall onto her lap. Her heart thudded painfully inside her chest.
This isn't your first time walking this path...
What did that mean? Was it metaphor? Reincarnation? A loop in time?
The words "Tomorrow's Keeper" stirred something unfamiliar in her. It felt… close. Like someone she used to know.
She lifted the silver locket, staring at her name etched into the metal. It felt warm in her hand, unnaturally so.
As if it remembered her.
---
🌙 Scene Change: Koyi's Dream — Or Was It?
The moment the locket touched her chest, her vision blurred. Her body sank backward — not physically, but inwards.
Darkness. Then light.
She stood in a field of tall bluegrass beneath a violet sky, stars glowing unnaturally bright above her. In the distance, she saw a version of herself — same eyes, same lips — but dressed in white, her hair longer, her gaze sharper.
That version turned and looked straight at her.
"Koyi," the other her said softly, like a sigh.
She stepped closer.
"Who are you?" Koyi whispered.
"You," the other answered. "Or rather… the version that chose to forget."
"I don't understand."
"You will. You had a choice once — to rewrite your future, to stop something terrible. And you did. But in doing so, you sacrificed the memory of it. The letters, the locket, the box… they're fragments. Clues leading you back."
Koyi's chest tightened. "Why bring me back now?"
The other version stepped forward and touched Koyi's forehead with two fingers. "Because time is bending again. And you're the only one who can set it right."
In a flash, the field vanished.
---
🌤️ Scene Change: Morning — Back in Her Room
Koyi woke with a start. The locket still rested on her chest, but her room felt colder, as if something had just passed through.
Was it a dream? Or something more?
She reached for the blue letter again, reading the words over and over. The handwriting looked familiar now. Almost like hers — only… older. More practiced.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Had she written to herself?
She stood abruptly and grabbed her journal. Flipping to a blank page, she began to write everything she could remember — the field, the sky, the other version of her, the word "rewrote."
When she paused to breathe, something caught her eye.
There, tucked between the pages of her journal, was a fresh note. Crisp. White.
She hadn't placed it there.
Her fingers shook as she unfolded it.
---
**"You're close now.
Memory is like light — even when gone, it leaves a trace.
Find the mirror that doesn't show your reflection.
The truth hides behind it.
— Yours, Always"**
---
Koyi stared at the note, heart hammering.
Find the mirror that doesn't show your reflection?
It sounded insane. Like something out of a myth. But something inside her — maybe the same force that had guided her to the first letter — believed it.
She turned, eyes scanning her room. Only one mirror hung in it — the old oval-shaped one on her wall. She approached it slowly.
Her reflection stared back. Wide-eyed. Pale. Real.
She sighed. "Of course it's just—"
Then she noticed it.
Her reflection blinked late.
Not a trick of the light. Not a delay. Just… off.
Her stomach dropped.
She reached forward and touched the glass.
It rippled.
---
🌌 Scene Change: The Hidden Room
Koyi stepped through the mirror, her breath catching in her throat.
On the other side was a dim, circular room — the walls lined with floating shelves holding more letters, each labeled with her name and dates that hadn't come yet.
2063.
2064.
2065.
She swallowed. Some were addressed not to "Koyi," but to "The Changer." Others said "Version 3," "Version 4," and "The One Who Chose Silence."
This wasn't a dream. This was a library of time.
In the center of the room was a pedestal. Upon it sat a final envelope — black, sleek, and heavy.
It was labeled: Final Option. Open Only If You Remember Everything.
Koyi stepped closer but didn't touch it. Not yet.
This was too much. Too fast. She had gone from an ordinary girl to someone surrounded by fragments of futures she couldn't remember.
She backed away, her breath catching. She wasn't ready.
---
☀️ Scene Change: Later That Day
Koyi returned through the mirror, hands cold, head spinning. The locket pulsed lightly against her chest like it had a heartbeat of its own.
She didn't tell anyone. Who would believe her?
Instead, she walked to the riverbank behind her school — a quiet place — and sat with her journal, writing everything she'd seen.
The dates. The words. The versions of herself.
And then she wrote:
I think I've been here before — not just in this town, or in this life… but in this very moment. Like I'm chasing my own shadow across time.
She looked up at the sky. It had turned gold with the setting sun.
And in that moment, a new realization struck her:
The letters weren't just messages from the future.
They were memories she'd sent to herself.
Reminders. Warnings. And maybe, eventually… a choice.