In the fading light, Sarah recalled the scent of rain-soaked asphalt, though she had never walked those streets. A distant echo of laughter danced on the edge of her memory, belonging to someone she had yet to meet.
The attic was filled with boxes of forgotten things. Old toys, yellowed letters, and photographs of people with unfamiliar faces. Among them, a tiny music box that played a tune she couldn't recall ever hearing, yet felt undeniably hers.
Thomas found a journal in the library, its pages filled with dreams he had never dreamed. Stories of strange lands and peculiar creatures, written in a script that seemed to flow like water. A mirror reflecting not his past, but a shadowy future.
At the edge of the forest, a forgotten path emerged under the twilight. It whispered secrets of a journey untaken, leading to a door in a tree that promised to be opened, even if no key was found.