Chapter One – A Letter from the Past

Today marks the start of everything.

'Everything' sounds broad, which belies the truth of the matter. My life begins today. Technically it officially began fifteen years, three hundred sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, fifty-nine minutes, and twenty-six seconds ago, but the metaphorical idea of my life begins today. Sixteen-year-olds like me get to finally go off on their own, which basically means I'm a real person now.

I roll over onto my stomach and stare at the clock on my wall. The second hand slows as it approaches the twelve. It obviously wants to mock me. But then it stops altogether, twitching endlessly at fifty-nine seconds.

"I'm missing it," I say. "Stupid batteries."

With a huff, I kick all of my covers off me and stomp over to my clock. Of course the batteries would die the very second I turn sixteen. 7:12 in the morning, down to the second, my mom always told me. She tells me that's the exact reason why I'm a morning person. As a baby I would sleep through the night, but I'd be wide awake by six and ready to play.

The batteries spill across the floor when I open the back of the clock. One darts under my bed, and the other fits perfectly under my door to the hallway. I sigh but go for neither. Instead, I reach for a pair of new batteries from my top desk drawer and fit them into place. The second hand hasn't resumed moving, I notice when I flip the clock back over.

"Happy birthday to me," I mutter and dump the clock onto my desk. "Piece of junk."

I leave with a sigh and kick the battery that made its way out into the hallway back into my bedroom. The house is quiet; my mom hasn't woken up yet. The second you learned how to prepare your own breakfast was the second I began sleeping in again. Of course, that was until I nearly burned the house down making eggs in the toaster. Then she changed to saying, The second you turned twelve and could be trusted not to destroy the house was the second I began sleeping in again.

The clock over the stove reads 7:16. I definitely missed it.

Well, it doesn't matter one way or the other. All that it means is that I'm officially sixteen and can stop by Professor Elm's lab for a Pokémon—the start of everything.

"Lyra?" my mom's groggy voice calls from the top of the stairs. I skid out of the kitchen and wave from the living room. "Happy birthday… you're up so early…"

"The clock in my room bit the dust. I had to check the time," I say. I turn when she begins making her descent down the stairs and walk back into the kitchen. There's an envelope on the island I hadn't noticed before with my name on it. I grab it and slide my finger under the flap, then hesitate when I hear my mom's soft footsteps.

She walks past me and heads right for the coffee pot. It's only after she gets the pot going that she comes over to me and kisses my head. "Can't believe my baby is sixteen."

"Can I open it?" I ask, wiggling the envelope in front of her face.

My mom snatches it from me, though probably only to stop me from waving it an inch from her face. "Who's it from?" She flips it front and back several times as if expecting the name of the sender to magically appear.

I take the letter back from her and try the same thing with similar results: no other names; just mine. "I thought it was from you. Guess it's probably Ethan or Professor Elm."

The water stops dripping from the coffee maker, and Mom's face brightens. She swats a hand at me in an indication that I can open the envelope, and then takes a swig off black liquid from the mug under the coffee maker. I don't know how she does it; I've tried coffee black and with an additional cup of sugar, and neither taste good.

I finish opening the envelope but accidentally tear a corner off in my eagerness to read whatever is inside. It's not a birthday card, like I expect, but a plain piece of lined paper folded three times to fit into the envelope. The scrawl on the inside resembles my own, almost completely, but I don't remember ever writing to myself.

"Who's it from?" my mom repeats.

"Looks like it's from me," I say. "It's probably one of those school projects I don't remember—the ones where they tell you to write advice to yourself."

But the smile I bear quickly diminishes into a grimace as I dissect the information on the page: information that does indeed give advice, but not advice that I would have known before now. This is no school project.

Lyra,

I apologize for not introducing myself in person. There isn't much time, and the methods are unclear. Besides, you already know me.

Something terrible has happened where I am, Lyra. I don't know all of the details in regards to the others, but I know one thing for sure: I'm not the only one of us who failed. So I thought it fair to warn you of the dangers that lie ahead. Maybe then you'll have a chance at succeeding where we didn't.

Things will begin happening quickly. You woke up this morning thinking that this is the start of everything, and you're right. It IS the start, but not the start you wanted.

The clock in your room stopped working at 7:11:59. That is the official start time.

It begins with Team Rocket, but things get worse if you fail to stop them. They're more powerful than the last time, and if they succeed in reuniting with Giovanni, there will be serious hell to pay. And the price is not one that you want to pay. Trust me on that.

There's no time. I'll try to get another correspondence out to you. In the meantime, find Silver. The expression, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend," applies directly to him. Make him your friend. He'll help you. He's the redhead staring in Professor Elm's window at the lab by the forest's edge. He's trying to steal a Pokémon to take on Team Rocket for personal reasons, but only when there are two left.

Choose wisely.

I believe in you. Just, please, believe in me. This is all I can do to help. Happy Birthday.

Good luck,

Lyra

My fingers tighten around the paper, and I turn away from my mom before she can see my face. It's my handwriting, my name… she knew that my clock had stopped, knew what I thought about when I woke up this morning…

Normally I'd say this is a joke, but I can't see how that's feasible. Unless someone took the time to copy my penmanship with extra care, there's no way I can not believe it. This letter arrived from me—me, where, when, how, I don't know. Me from another time? The me who failed to stop Team Rocket and in turn failed to stop some cataclysmic event?

No, not possible. Why would a sixteen-year-old be responsible for stopping a criminal organization?

Besides, a ten-year-old stopped them three years ago. From what I understand, they have been completely dissolved since then, and the chances of them returning after their major financial and political losses would be…

I mean, that would be crazy, right?

"I have to go get ready," I say quietly, and before my mom can say anything in response, I dart up the stairs back to my room.

Because my clock doesn't work anymore, I can't tell what time it is by the time I finish showering and dressing. But when I run down the stairs, my mom informs me that I've already had two visitors in whatever amount of time I took.

"Ethan stopped by, and Professor Elm called. He wants to see you."

"I'm on my way, then!" I shout when I'm already halfway out the door.

I know I should go see Ethan first and show him this piece of paper weighing down my pocket. But I'm too curious about the letter to make my way towards my friend's house. Instead, I head directly for Professor Elm's lab. It's warm out today, and sweat glistens on my forehead. I don't stop running, though, until I see the lab come into view around the trees.

Then I sneak. It hurts to hold my breath after running, but I do anyway. The breeze makes more noise than my footsteps, and I keep close to the building to hide my shadow. When I make it to the far corner past the front door, I lean around the edge and spot a person on the other side: a redhead, just like the letter said, peering in the window.

"Hey!" I hiss.

The boy jumps, and he looks over his shoulder at me. When our eyes meet, something in my head aches—I groan in pain and press my palm against my right temple.

"Get lost," the boy snaps.

"Are you…" I stop and groan again, and this time I lean forward and press my eyes shut. The pain subsides as quickly as it came on. I peek an eye open and look at the boy again. "Are you Silver?"

His expression, lit by a momentary panic, indicates that my guess hit the mark; his answer, however, contradicts this. "No." His curtness, though, only serves to prove me even more correct. His eyes search mine for a minute, but I doubt he finds anything of value. And far below my stoic façade, my hands shake fiercely.

My seriousness must have churned something within him because after a moment he gives an exasperated sigh. "Well, who's asking?"

"My name is Lyra, and I—"

There's a sudden clamor within the lab, and Silver turns back to face the window again. He grumbles, shoots me a dark look, and then lowers himself so only his eyes and top of his head press against the window. "I don't have time for you. Get out of here, kid."

"Kid? I look older than you."

"Doubtful."

"Maybe by a year," I snap, but my attitude doesn't earn his attention back. Stupid brat. He just wants to make this really difficult for himself, doesn't he?

I step forward and take ahold of his shoulder. When I spin him and press his back up against the building, he shouts, "Hey! Let go!" I note that it's a good thing that something busy is going on inside the lab, otherwise he might have given away his position.

"Listen up," I bark. "What do you have against Team Rocket?"

His eyes go wide, and he splutters for a moment before choking out, "What?"

"You're going to steal a Pokémon from Professor Elm's lab, aren't you?" Silver's eyes are so wide now that they're practically bulging out of their sockets. "So that you can fight Team Rocket? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and Team Rocket is my enemy. That makes you my friend, right? Because you're fighting Team Rocket?"

Silver doesn't say anything. He stares at me, and with each passing second his eyes return to normal. When everything I've said seems to catch up with him, he reaches a hand up slowly towards mine and loosens my grip from his shoulder.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say friends."

"Well, I could either go to the authorities and tell them that you're causing a disturbance and possibly trying to steal a Pokémon, or you can be my friend." It's not a great threat, especially because I don't know why they would believe a teenage girl like me even if I went to the cops, but I don't care.

Silver scoffs and rolls his eyes. "You're annoying."

"Well, I'll tell you this: I was planning on taking Chikorita for my starter Pokémon, which leaves you with Cyndaquil or Totodile. But since you were planning on just breaking and entering, you were just gonna take the first one you could get your grimy little hands on, right? Based on the probability and location of the two left, I'd guess you'd end up with Cyndaquil." I jab a thumb towards the clearly behind us that leads to the front door. "What if there was certainty? What if you could choose? Just ask Elm when I go in. He's not going to say no."

"I'm not sixteen yet."

Ha, knew it. I am older than this snot-nosed ginger.

"Then lie. You were planning on breaking the law, anyway."

Silver contemplates this with a pained expression, though I'm not sure why. I'm giving him a better alternative than his first intentions. And even if he prefers to be alone, which I'm guessing is the case by his lack of conversational know how, a teammate will ultimately help him achieve his goal.

And the fact that he never denied that stopping Team Rocket is his true goal hints that the Lyra from the letter held some truth in her words. Plus, she got his name right and knew exactly where he would be hiding.

What if I can change everything? If not in her world, or apparently the others, then at least in mine? What if what is destined to happen can be altered completely?

"Fine." Silver slips out from underneath my hand entirely and pushes me away from him. I stumble backwards but catch myself before I fall. "Then let's do this thing. Get me in there and get me a Pokémon, and we'll work together."

I rub the spot on my shoulder blade where he pushed me for effect; it doesn't particularly hurt, but I want to give him the impression it does. "Push me again, and I'll push you back harder."

Silver likes this; he smiles, though not entirely genuine, and chuckles. "Don't they say not to fight hate with hate?"

"Oh, I don't hate you," I coo, and I hope the tone comes off patronizingly. "We're friends, after all. Friends who share a common enemy. So, if you want to get this show on the road, then we're going to need to do one more thing before I uphold my end of the bargain. I need to confirm with someone that I'm not going mad."

"Aren't you?" Silver asks and chuckles again.

"A quick detour," I assure him. "And then we can get you what you want."

Frankly, I'm not one who goes around believing in destiny or fate or any of that crap. But I know when to believe myself. Teenagers either have the world's highest self-confidence or the world's lowest. And, well, I had a lot.

So, destiny or not, I may hold the key to fixing the world before disaster strikes. And who am I to ignore even the possibility of that being the case?


Author's Note: Because I like stories with letters.

Welcome, friends.

Updates with this story will likely be irregular. I started grad school full-time on top of my normal day job, so my schedule will be busy and kind of generally funky. As you cool kids say, "Hashtag-YOLO."

Just kidding. But I hope you'll follow along for this story regardless of the irregular updates. It would mean a lot to me, as would any comments or reviews you have for me! Enjoy!