As they waited, Bryce’s attention drifted to the scene around him. The sensory overload was overwhelming. People of all types, from every walk of life and even seemingly from other worlds, were milling about, speaking with attendants, and heading toward various platforms and counters. He tried to process what he was seeing.

There were the everyday types—the kind of people you’d expect to see in an airport terminal or shopping mall. Then there was the rest of the crowd. A man in full-length pajamas wandered by, looking sleepy and confused, while another woman strutted confidently past in what could only be described as inappropriate lingerie. Bryce caught sight of a few teenage boys blushing and turning their heads away, and some of the girls giggled behind their hands, amused by the sight. To his left, a woman in a stunning evening gown floated past, the fabric shimmering like liquid silver. Next to her, a group of teenagers shuffled by in mismatched pajamas, some sporting cartoon characters while others flaunted ridiculously short sleepwear that seemed better suited for a late-night party than a sorting hall. Nearby, a man in torn sweatpants and a faded T-shirt scuffed his way toward a booth, looking entirely out of place. The scene included people in all sorts of work attire, from utility and service industry workers, including fast food employees and nurses, to athletes, teachers, office professionals, and even construction workers.

But then there were others who seemed plucked from history. A woman in a flowing Victorian gown wandered through the crowd, her dress adorned with lace and intricate embroidery, her hair neatly styled under a delicate bonnet, as if she had stepped out of a 19th-century novel. A man in a tattered 1920s flapper suit stood apart from the modern crowd, his trousers high-waisted, his jacket sharply cut, with suspenders and a bow tie, evoking the spirit of a jazz age reveler. A woman dressed in an elaborate Regency-era dress, complete with an empire waist, bonnet, and long gloves, strolled through the scene, reminiscent of a character from the cover of a romance novel, with her dignified grace and posture. A child in 1950s school clothes, wearing a plaid skirt and cardigan with knee-high socks, skipped along, her pigtails bouncing as though transported directly from a post-war era of innocence and simplicity.

A group of people dressed in combat fatigues—some from recent wars, clad in desert and digital camouflage from the War on Terror, others in BDU’s from Vietnam, then a few in Pink and Greens and Utilities from WW2 and Korea — were deep in conversation. Another man, in what looked like a Napoleonic-era uniform complete with a cape and tall hat with ether an old fashion feather duster or some sort of feathery head dress in the top middle of the hat, stood at a counter, gesturing animatedly as if he were settling a dispute. Bryce’s jaw tightened. He had to remind himself that this was no ordinary place. It was far beyond life or death.

It wasn’t just soldiers and civilians, either. As Bryce scanned the room, he noticed people wearing thick fur coats, as though they had come from some arctic landscape. Some of them carried heavy weapons, axes slung over their backs, or long swords at their hips. And then there were others—men and women walking around in shining plate mail, gleaming armor that looked straight out of medieval times. They clanked as they moved, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords or gripping shields adorned with strange symbols. Following them was an old man with a long beard dressed as a wizard swirling his cape dramatically, utterly absorbed in the chaos. But that was only the beginning.

The more Bryce looked, the stranger the crowd became. “What is happening?” Bryce thought, trying to make sense of the eclectic mix. But before he could ponder further, a band of fantastical creatures caught his eye. Then he realized it wasn’t just humans passing by. Dwarfs with braided beards chatted boisterously, their hands gesturing wildly as they navigated the crowd. Elves glided gracefully past, their pointed ears and ethereal beauty accentuating the contrast with the more rough-hewn folk around them.

Gnomes darted in and out, their over sized hats bobbing like colorful mushrooms. Bryce blinked as a pair of kobolds scurried past, their scaly skin glistening under the bright lights, while a few goblins followed, their expressions shifty and mischievous. There were fantastical beings, too—creatures out of myths and legends.

The children gasped, eyes wide with awe and disbelief. “Look at them!” one girl whispered, pointing at a group of beast-like figures. A man with a wolf’s head walked past, his fur sleek and his eyes glowing with a strange intelligence. Behind him, a figure with a cat’s face sauntered by, its tail flicking lazily as it carried on a conversation with a small bunny-like creature. There were rat-like beings with twitching whiskers and tall, lanky forms, and even a bird-like figure with feathers of every color imaginable, its beak moving as it spoke in a melodic voice. A woman with feathers cascading from her shoulders strutted past, her confident demeanor turning heads.

Bryce’s head spun from the sheer variety. The sight of people with bright orange or blue skin seemed almost normal by comparison. Some had scaly skin that shimmered like a reptile’s, while others had feathered crests or long, flowing manes. It was a convergence of beings from every possible realm of existence.

As Bryce guided the group further into the atrium, he started noticing something strange—miraculous even. The children who had entered this place burdened by physical and developmental challenges were changing. The transformations were subtle at first but quickly became undeniable.

Mason Carter, who had always relied on a wheelchair due to spina bifida, was standing. He hesitated for a moment before taking a step, then another, his sandy blond hair catching the soft glow of the atrium lights. His hazel eyes were wide with amazement as he turned to his sister Olivia.

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“Liv! Look! I’m walking!” he exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and joy.

Olivia, tall and protective with her long sandy blond hair tied back in a braid, froze. Her hazel eyes filled with tears as she rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “Mason, this… this is amazing! How do you feel?”

“I feel… normal,” Mason replied, grinning. “I’ve never felt like this before.”

Nearby, Rowan Blake, who had suffered from profound hearing loss since birth, was tilting his head and laughing. The boy, with his slim frame and red hair, had discarded his hearing aids. He turned to his sister Sophia, his green eyes shining.

“Sophia, I can hear you! Every word! Even the weird sounds over there,” he said, pointing toward a stall where a creature resembling a walking jellyfish was playing a harp.

Sophia, petite with platinum blond hair and a mischievous smile, looked at him in awe. “That’s… impossible. But it’s happening. Rowan, this is incredible!”

Talia Green, tall and athletic-looking, flexed her fingers experimentally. She’d struggled with memory loss and impaired motor function after a car accident. Now, she walked confidently, her tan skin glowing under the atrium lights. She turned to her brother Aiden Rivera, a lanky teenager with sharp brown eyes.

“Aiden, I don’t need help anymore,” Talia said, a broad smile breaking across her face.

Aiden’s jaw dropped as he stared at her. “You… you look like you could run a marathon. This place is… it’s fixing us.”

Rachel Thompson, tall and thin with wavy auburn hair, usually relied on a cane due to cerebral palsy. Now, she stood unaided, stretching her arms above her head and laughing. Her brother Jonah, shorter and bookish with green eyes, looked at her in amazement.

“Rachel, you’re moving like… like a dancer,” Jonah said, his voice cracking with emotion.

“It feels like a dream,” Rachel replied, her freckles glowing as she spun in a circle. “I never thought I’d feel this free.”

Mira Patel, the youngest at eight, had been unable to walk due to severe cerebral palsy. Her brother Lucas, playful and curious, was now holding her hand as she walked beside him. Mira’s straight black hair framed her small, delicate face, and her expressive dark eyes brimmed with joy.

“Lucas, look at me,” Mira said, her voice steady. “I’m walking! For real!”

Lucas grinned, squeezing her hand. “You’re amazing, Mira! This place is amazing!”

Isaac Turner, usually non-verbal due to severe autism, was speaking to his sister Ivy. The stocky boy with curly brown hair and hazel eyes had always been shy, but now he looked her in the eye.

“Ivy,” he said slowly, his voice soft but clear. “I’m better. I… I can talk now.”

Ivy, wiry with curly red hair and pale blue eyes, threw her arms around him. “Isaac, you’re talking! I knew you could do it.”

Emily White, frail and quiet, had been quadriplegic since birth. Now, she moved with elegance, her platinum blond hair glowing as she walked beside her sisters Sophia and Dahlia.

“Emily, you’re glowing,” Sophia said, laughing. “You look like a princess.”

Emily smiled softly, her ice-blue eyes filled with wonder. “I feel like one.”

Hunter Jenkins, who had often been distant from his sister Leora, watched her carefully. Leora, short and stocky with wild dark hair, had always been hindered by epilepsy and developmental delays. Now, she stood tall, her brown eyes sharp and focused.

“Hunter, this place is so cool,” Leora said, beaming up at him.

Hunter nodded, his usually guarded expression softening. “Yeah, Leora. You… you look great.”

Bryce stood in the center of it all, his eyes darting between the children. The transformations were extraordinary, but they left him with more questions than answers. He scanned the bustling atrium, searching for someone who could explain what was happening.

Before he could dwell too much on his thoughts, a figure approached them. The woman was tall, with sharp features and a suit that shimmered like woven moonlight. Her presence was commanding, and the noise of the atrium seemed to fade as she drew near.

“Hello, everyone,” she said, her voice smooth and melodic. “My name is Althea. I’ve been sent to escort you to a meeting room where we can discuss what’s happening and what comes next.”

Bryce nodded, stepping forward to address her. “Thank you. The kids… they’ve changed. Do you know why?”

Althea offered a small smile. “All will be explained. Follow me.”

With that, the group gathered themselves and began following Althea toward a quieter section of the atrium, their excitement mingling with a growing sense of anticipation.