Crossroad!?

"Ivy, honey, you're not skipping breakfast. Come and eat something before you go."

Her father echoed from the dining table, "It's Sunday, dear. Five more minutes won't make you late."

Reluctantly, Ivy nodded and set her bag down, the weight of the morning's urgency momentarily lifted by the familiar domestic scene. As she joined her parents at the table, there was a warmth and laughter that filled the room, the kind that makes ordinary moments feel imbued with something more.

She smiled, picking at her food, but a strange sensation tugged at her heart. As she looked at her parents—their faces bright with the morning light, talking about mundane things like the weather and the neighbors—Ivy felt a sudden, inexplicable sadness. It washed over her in a quiet wave, leaving her with a haunting feeling that this simple family breakfast could somehow be the last.

With a deep breath, she pushed the thought away, focusing on the warmth of the moment. But as she laughed and chatted, that small part of her couldn't help but memorize every detail, just in case.

Ivy slipped behind the wheel of her car, her heart still heavy with unspoken goodbyes.

As she pulled out of the driveway, the streets seemed unusually busy, the traffic dense with the hum of engines and the blur of passing vehicles. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard, her fingers tightening around the steering wheel. Late, she thought, even though she had left on time.

Was it just her anxiety playing tricks on her, making the world seem more chaotic than it actually was? Or had the universe conspired to make every light turn red, every slow driver pull ahead of her this morning? Ivy shook her head, trying to clear the fog of her thoughts and focus on the road.

But as she drove, the odd sense of dissonance grew stronger. The familiar route to the university, which she could navigate almost absentmindedly, now demanded all her attention. Every stoplight and intersection felt like a barrier, every minute ticking by increased her urgency.

Still, she pressed on, the weight of the ancient stone in her bag a constant reminder of why she couldn't afford to be late. Its presence was both a comfort and a curse, grounding her in the reality of her mission yet magnifying the surreal feeling of the morning.

As the university gates came into view, Ivy exhaled a sigh of relief mixed with apprehension. She parked her car with a final glance at the congested road behind her. Was it all in her head? Perhaps, but it didn't matter now. She grabbed her bag, the stone secure inside, and hurried toward the building where new truths awaited.

.

.

.

.

Rushing through the university's bustling corridors, Ivy's mind raced with the implications of her impending meeting. Clutching the amulet's stone tightly in her hand, she navigated the sea of students with single-minded focus, her steps quick and determined.

Suddenly, without warning, she collided with a broad-shouldered figure stepping around a corner. The impact was jarring, sending a shockwave through her arm. The stone in her hand pulsed fiercely, as if reacting to the contact, and emitted a blinding light that enveloped everything.

.

.

.

Ivy's eyes widened in shock, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. The hallways, the noise, the people around her—all dissolved into a void as the light from the stone grew overwhelmingly bright. Then, as quickly as it had flared, the light extinguished, plunging her into darkness. The world around her fell silent and blank.

For a moment, Ivy stood frozen, disoriented, her breaths shallow. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, but the darkness persisted. Where am I? What's happened? The questions spiraled in her mind, unanswered.

The firm hand of the stranger steadied her. "Are you alright?" a voice asked, deep and resonant, cutting through the void. But Ivy could neither see who spoke nor understand how this could be happening. Was this another layer of the amulet's magic, or had she stepped through a doorway to somewhere—or somewhen—entirely different?

As Ivy stood enveloped in darkness, her senses dulled by the abrupt shift, a cacophony of distant voices began to fill the void. The sounds were muffled at first, like echoes through a long tunnel, growing clearer and more distinct as her mind struggled to find footing in the unfamiliar reality.

She could hear the bustle of a crowd, the clatter of wheels on cobblestones, and the distant calls of market vendors—none of which belonged to the university hallway she remembered.

Confusion spiraled into a surreal sense of detachment as scenes from her childhood flickered before her eyes like old film reels played in reverse. There she was, a little girl with scraped knees running up the hill near her home; moments later, she was blowing out candles on a birthday cake, her young face lit with excitement and joy.

These memories cascaded around her, each slipping away as quickly as it appeared, leaving her grasping for a reality that seemed to be slipping through her fingers. Am I dreaming? she wondered, a sense of panic rising as the weight of her disorientation grew. Yet, she could do nothing but stand and watch as the fabric of time seemed to unravel, pulling her further away from everything she knew.

Slowly, the darkness began to dissipate, revealing glimpses of a world that was decidedly not her own. The air smelled of smoke and spices, and the ground beneath her feet felt uneven, paved with stones worn smooth by centuries. The voices coalesced into a vibrant tapestry of life that could belong only to another time.

As Ivy wandered through the ancient marketplace, the vibrant stalls and lively chatter of the crowd formed a stark contrast to the confusion swirling within her. With each step, she grappled with the reality of her situation, alone and unguided in this unfamiliar world.

Suddenly, faint distant cries sliced through the marketplace din. A deep, mournful voice resonated above the rest, heavy with grief, proclaiming, "She is dead. I am sorry, my lady." The words echoed, carrying a weight that seemed to press directly on Ivy's chest.

Overwhelmed by the piercing sounds, Ivy clapped her hands over her ears and shouted, "Stop it!" Her voice cut through the noise, bringing an abrupt silence to the bustling market.

All eyes turned towards her, expressions shifting from curiosity to shock. "Whaaaat? How can the dead come back to life?" someone whispered loudly, the murmur spreading rapidly among the crowd. Steps backed away as fear flickered over their faces.

Yet, in the midst of the retreating crowd, one woman pushed forward. Her face, streaked with tears but marked by an undeniable conviction, broke through the hesitation around her. She ran to Ivy, throwing her arms around her in a tight embrace. "I knew it; you can't die. The Mother Goddess told me. You aren't dead," she sobbed, her voice a mixture of relief and joy.

The woman's embrace provided a grounding force amidst the chaos, her warmth and the sincerity in her voice calming the storm inside Ivy. Though the situation was surreal, the woman's surety suggested a deep connection, as if she truly believed Ivy was someone she knew—someone believed to be long gone.

"Who am I supposed to be?"

Ivy asked quietly, desperate to understand the identity that had been thrust upon her so unexpectedly.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pulled back to look Ivy in the eyes, her expression one of heartbreak mixed with hope.

"My child, you don't remember us?"

she cried out, turning to the gathered crowd as if to find support or confirmation.

"She has lost her memories! The gods must have spared her life but taken her past!"