The letter felt like a loaded gun in his pocket. Crammed with cryptic warnings and tantalizing hints about the future – or, rather, his past – it was both a roadmap and a minefield. He’d already verified several of its predictions, small things mostly. A spilled coffee on Mrs. Davison's new blouse, a pop quiz in history class that focused entirely on the Punic Wars (a section Ethan had conveniently skimmed over in his first life), and even the lottery numbers for the state draw – though he hadn't dared to play them, fearing the ripple effects.

But the letter wasn't just about petty inconveniences and potential windfalls. It spoke of "resonants," individuals tethered to the past just as he was, albeit with varying degrees of awareness. They were experiencing glitches in reality, flashes of memories that didn’t belong to this timeline, a disconcerting sense of déjà vu that went beyond the ordinary. Identifying them was crucial, the letter warned, as their actions, driven by half-remembered events, could destabilize the already fragile equilibrium.