Threads of the Past

The world shifted with every step Aya took alongside Kael. The familiar streets blurred into unfamiliar alleys, the warmth of the morning sun swallowed by creeping shadows. Aya clutched her notebook tightly. Every page felt heavier now, as though the truth inside it might burst free at any moment.

“Where are we going?” Aya asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kael glanced at her, crimson eyes softening. “Somewhere safe. Somewhere you can remember.”

The air thickened. Aya felt the weight of Kael’s words pressing against her chest. Remember what? And why did the thought of remembering fill her with dread?

The destination was a small building hidden between towering apartments. Its faded sign read: Memoria Café. The scent of coffee and old books drifted from within. Aya hesitated at the threshold.

“I’ve… been here before.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Kael nodded. “You came here every week.”

Aya’s fingers tightened around the notebook. Every week. The phrase echoed, so similar to Riku’s claims. But this place felt different—like stepping into a dream half-forgotten.

The inside was warm, dimly lit by soft lamps. Shelves lined the walls, filled with worn books. A few patrons sat in silence. But one table near the back stood out.

A photograph lay there.

Aya approached slowly. Her breath caught. It was a photo of her—laughing with Kael. No sign of Riku.

“I don’t remember this,” Aya whispered, brushing her fingers over the glossy surface.

“You will,” Kael said. “But memories come at a price.”

The room at the back of the café was small, lined with mirrors. Aya stared at her reflection. The girl in the glass looked back with wary eyes. But behind her, Kael stood still, watching.

“This room holds fragments of you,” Kael said. “Touch the mirror. See for yourself.”

Aya hesitated. Then, slowly, her fingers brushed the glass.

A rush of images flooded her mind—

Laughter under cherry blossoms. A silver-haired girl standing by her side. A voice whispering: “Don’t forget me.”

But then—

Darkness.

Riku’s voice, sharp this time: “She can’t remember. Not yet.”

Aya stumbled back, gasping. The room spun.

“Riku…” she breathed. “Why—why did he say that?”

Kael caught her, steadying her. “Because he’s hiding something. And you’re not ready for all of it yet.”

Aya shook her head. “No. I need to know.”

Kael looked away. “Then you need to come with me. There’s someone you have to meet.”

The streets blurred into forests. The city faded behind them. The path ahead twisted through towering trees. Aya’s heart pounded with every step.

“Where are we going now?” she asked.

“To the place where it all began,” Kael said.

The forest opened into a clearing. A small cabin stood there—weathered but intact. Aya’s breath hitched. She knew this place. The ache in her chest confirmed it.

Kael stepped aside. “Go on. It’s waiting for you.”

Aya approached the door. Her hand trembled on the knob. With a deep breath, she pushed it open.

Inside, dust hung in the air. Furniture lay covered with white sheets. But in the center of the room stood a large, locked chest. Its surface was carved with intricate symbols.

Aya knelt beside it. Her fingers traced the carvings. A keyhole glinted in the dim light.

“I… don’t have the key,” she whispered.

Kael joined her. “You did. But you gave it away.”

“To who?”

Kael didn’t answer. But Aya already knew.

Riku.

The truth was close—Aya could feel it. But with every step forward, the shadows of doubt deepened. Why did Riku have the key? What lay inside the chest?

Aya turned to Kael. “We have to find him.”

Kael nodded. “But be careful. The truth isn’t always what we want it to be.”

Aya took a deep breath, notebook clutched tightly. The journey wasn’t over. The past waited to be uncovered.

And this time, Aya vowed, she wouldn’t forget.

To be continued...