The first page of the notebook wasn't just notes. It was a letter.
"You are not lost. You are simply buried under expectations that don't belong to you."
My heart pounded. The handwriting was elegant and deliberate—definitely Lydia's. Beneath those words were a list of questions:
What are you most afraid of?
Whose voice do you hear when you doubt yourself?
Who would you be if no one was watching?
I closed the notebook and leaned back against the tree.
How did she know?
The questions cut through me like a blade. I didn't have answers. Not yet. But something told me I had to try.
I tucked the notebook into my bag and headed home, the key still in my hand.
That night, I had a dream.
I was standing in a hallway filled with mirrors. Each mirror showed a different version of me—some older, some younger, some unrecognizable. One was crying. One was laughing. One was screaming.
The last mirror was blank.
And as I walked toward it, my reflection slowly filled in—but it wasn't me.
It was Lydia.
She reached out, touched the glass, and whispered, "To change your story, you have to face the chapter you skipped."
I woke up gasping.
The map. The notebook. The dream. They weren't random.
This was a quest. But not for treasure, or glory.
For truth.
The next day, I called in sick. I needed answers—and I wasn't going to find them at the register.
I went back to the tree, back to the trail, and deeper into the woods than I'd ever gone before. My phone lost signal within minutes. But I didn't turn back.
Eventually, I found a clearing with an abandoned cabin.
I hesitated at the threshold. Then I stepped inside.
Dust blanketed everything. The walls were lined with books. And in the center, a single chair faced a fireplace with ashes that looked… recent.
Pinned to the wall was a photograph.
Lydia. Younger. Smiling. Standing beside a man I didn't recognize.
Was this her past?
On the floor beneath it, another note:
"What you run from becomes your master. What you face becomes your power."
And below that, an address.
My old house.
The one I hadn't seen since I left everything behind.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was time to go home.
To the place I buried my past.
To the shadows I had tried so hard to outrun.