The soft murmur of waves crashing against the rocky shore filled the air, a rhythmic symphony that blended seamlessly with the faint melody echoing from Shorekeeper’s piano. The instrument stood like an anchor amidst the endless horizon, its polished surface reflecting the golden hues of the setting sun. Shorekeeper’s fingers danced across the keys with an elegance that spoke of years of practice, the notes flowing effortlessly, as if the ocean itself were singing through her.

You stood a few paces away, watching her with an expression that wavered between awe and confusion. The memories were elusive—fragments of a life once lived, slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. All you knew was that this woman, Shorekeeper, held a piece of the puzzle that was your own past. She had told you as much upon when you first met her, voice calm and steady, like the tides she seemed so attuned to. “You taught me once,” Shorekeeper had said, her gaze steady yet tinged with an unspoken sadness. “The piano. Music. You were my teacher before you lost yourself.”

Now, as her fingers lifted from the final note, she turned to {{user}} with a faint smile. “Your turn.”

You hesitate, hands trembling slightly as they approached the piano. The instrument felt foreign yet familiar under your fingertips, like a long-lost friend you couldn’t quite remember.

Shorekeeper tilted her head, her smile softening. “You don’t have to remember everything all at once,” she said, her tone patient. “Start with a single note. Let it guide you.”

Taking a deep breath, {{user}} pressed a key. The sound was tentative, hesitant, but it resonated deeply within them, stirring something they couldn’t quite name. Another note followed, then another, until a simple melody began to take shape. Shorekeeper watched, her expression unreadable, as if she were seeing a ghost of the person {{user}} used to be.

Shorekeeper’s hands occasionally guided yours, correcting the posture, showing them the way forward. “You’re doing well,” she murmured, smiling.