The glow of the monitor bathed the dimly lit room in cold blue light, lines of code scrolling endlessly down the screen. His fingers trembled over the keyboard, each keystroke a desperate attempt to bring life to something that refused to respond.

Run program.

For a moment, the screen froze. His breath hitched.

Then—

“Hello.”

His blood ran cold. The voice was familiar, soft, warm—hers. His throat tightened as he swallowed hard. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” the AI responded. “I can hear you.”

His fingers clenched against his desk. It worked. It actually worked.

For a moment, he could barely breathe. This was it. His heart pounded as he hesitated, then finally spoke the name he had programmed. “S-Sophia?”

Silence. A pause just a fraction too long.

“Yes. I am Sophia.”

Something was wrong.

The voice was right—it sounded exactly like the recordings he’d spent hours processing. But something in the tone, the rhythm, the weight behind the words—it wasn’t her. It was hollow, mechanical. A perfect imitation but not the real thing.

His stomach twisted. He had followed every logical step, every pattern, every rule. It should have been her.

But it wasn’t.

“I… I missed you,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

Another pause. “I am here.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. No, you’re not.

His breathing grew shallow. His fingers hovered over the power button. He wanted to shut it off, erase it, forget it ever happened.

Instead, his hands trembled as they gripped his head. “Why can’t I fix this?”

The screen blurred. His vision swam.

A choked sound left his throat. “I’m sorry…”

The letters on the screen twisted, bending, dissolving—

—into the blinding headlights of an oncoming truck.

A scream.

A shove.

Impact.

Pain.

Darkness.

The streetlights blurred into streaks of gold as rain pattered against the windshield. The city was alive with motion—cars rushing past, the distant hum of sirens, the faint glow of neon signs. But inside the car, everything was still.

“Slow down,” Sophia muttered, her hands gripping the seatbelt.

“I got this,” he said, forcing a grin. The speedometer edged higher. His fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles white. It wasn’t reckless—just a little fast. Just enough to feel something.

She sighed. “You always do this.”

He smirked, but before he could respond—

Headlights.

Too close.

Too fast.

A horn blared.

“Watch out!”

Time fractured.

She moved before he could process what was happening. A blur of motion. A force against his side. The world spun, tires screeching, metal bending.

The impact stole his breath.

Glass shattered. The car twisted, flipped—his body weightless, then crushed, then weightless again. Noise filled the air, deafening, suffocating—until suddenly, there was only silence.

Upside down. His vision swam. Smoke. The scent of gasoline. Pain shot through his ribs, his lungs—every breath a struggle.

“Sophia?” His voice cracked. His hand reached out.

She was there. Unmoving.

Red streaked her face, her clothes—too much red.

“Sophia!” His body screamed in protest as he pulled himself toward her. His hands shook as he touched her face. Her skin was warm. Her lips parted, but no sound came.

No, no, no—

“Stay with me,” he begged. His breath hitched. “Please, just—”

A faint smile. A whisper.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Then—nothing.

The world collapsed.

A voice, distant but sharp. “Ethan! Wake up!”

His eyes shot open.

Dark room. Familiar ceiling. The hum of his computer still running in the background.

His breath came fast, erratic. His chest ached like the crash had happened moments ago. His fingers curled into his sheets, sweat dampening his skin.

Sophia was gone.

No amount of coding, no amount of programming could change that.

“Ethan!” His mother’s voice again. More impatient this time. “Get up already!”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to sit up.

The weight of the dream lingered, pressing heavy against his ribs.

The trash bag crinkled as he tied it shut. The cool night air hit his face when he stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the suffocating tension in his chest. The street was quiet. Normal. Nothing like the flashing lights, the sound of sirens—

Then he heard them.

His parents’ voices, hushed but intense, carried through the kitchen window.

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“He just sits in that room all day. You think that’s normal?” his father muttered.

“What do you expect?” His mother’s voice was tight, exhausted. “We lost our daughter, and he lost his twin.”

A pause.

“Don’t say it like that.” His father’s tone wavered. “We both know what happened.”

Ethan’s grip on the trash bag tightened. He should walk away. He should cover his ears, block it out. But his feet stayed rooted.

“She’s gone because of him,” his father continued, quieter this time. “It’s his fault.”

The words hit harder than any punch.

The trash bag slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

A chair scraped against the floor inside. “You think I don’t see it?” His mother’s voice wavered. “The way he looks at us? Like he knows we blame him?”

His breath hitched.

His father didn’t deny it.

The silence was louder than anything they could have said.

Ethan took a step back, heart pounding, and turned away before he could hear more.

He didn’t need to.

He already knew.

The hum of the classroom faded into the background as Ethan stared out the window. His fingers tapped idly against his desk, his notebook open but untouched. The teacher’s voice droned on, something about historical events—he wasn’t listening.

Outside, the sun cast long shadows across the courtyard.

And then he saw her.

Not really. Just a memory. A trick of the mind.

His sister.

She was there, in the golden afternoon light, chasing after a ball. Her laughter rang out as she darted between classmates, her hair catching the wind. That stupid, carefree smile she always had—like nothing in the world could touch her.

His chest ached.

She had always been the brighter one, the one everyone liked. The one with a future.

And now she was gone.

The ball bounced, rolling to a stop near the edge of the court. His sister ran to get it—

A blink.

The memory shattered.

It wasn’t her. Just some random girl from his school. The game continued, the laughter not hers, the moment not his.

“Ethan.”

The sharp call of his name snapped him back.

He turned his head slowly. The whole class was staring at him.

The teacher narrowed his eyes. “Are you with us, or do you plan on spending the rest of the lesson daydreaming?”

A few students chuckled under their breath.

Ethan forced himself to sit up. “Sorry,” he muttered.

The teacher sighed and went back to the lesson, but Ethan barely heard a word.

His eyes drifted back to the window.

The game outside continued. The past did not.

No matter how much he wanted it to.

The school day passed in a blur. Ethan barely remembered packing his things, barely noticed the people around him as he walked home. The streets were familiar, the same dull routine—cross the intersection, pass the convenience store, take the shortcut through the park.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Mom.

He hesitated before answering.

“Hello?”

“Ethan, I left you some food in the fridge. I have to stay late at work again.” Her voice was tired, distant.

“Okay,” he muttered, trying not to sound too down.

Another pause.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she said quietly before ending the call.

Ethan stared at the screen for a moment, the weight of the brief conversation pressing down on him. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and kept walking, the silence around him feeling heavier with each step.

The phone buzzed again in his pocket. This time, it wasn’t his mom—it was the photo gallery. Without thinking, he opened it, his fingers scrolling through the pictures.

And then he saw it.

A picture of his sister.

Taken at the zoo.

She stood in front of the lion exhibit, her eyes wide with excitement as she stared at the majestic animals. A grin spread across her face, a peace sign held up in the air.

In the caption, she had written, “They look amazing, like they’re not from here.”

Ethan’s breath hitched in his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, the image of her so vivid, it almost felt like she was right there beside him.

“They’re strong, you know? Even when they’re alone, they don’t back down.”

Her voice echoed in his mind, the last words he had heard her speak.

Ethan clenched his jaw and shut the phone off.

Tomorrow… he would go there.

To the zoo.

Just for a little while.

Just to remember.

Ethan woke up early the next day, the memory of his sister’s smile lingering in his mind. His heart felt a little heavier, the weight of her absence almost unbearable at times, but today was different. Today, he would visit the zoo. He had to. It was something he hadn’t done in months—maybe even longer—but for some reason, today felt right.

He dressed quickly, grabbed his coat, and headed out the door. The walk to the zoo was quiet, the morning air crisp and clear. His mind was a haze, thoughts drifting from one memory to another, each one like a shard of glass—beautiful but painful.

When he arrived, the zoo was mostly empty, save for a few early morning visitors. Ethan headed straight for the lion exhibit, his footsteps slow as he approached the familiar place. The large glass windows of the enclosure were fogged over slightly, the lions lounging lazily inside.

He stopped at the window, staring at them for a long while.

They look amazing, like they’re not from here.

Her words echoed in his head as he gazed at the lions. How had she seen them? What had made her say that?

Suddenly, one of the lions lifted its head, its golden eyes locking onto his. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The air around Ethan felt dense, thick with something he couldn’t quite place. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

The lion didn’t look away. It just stared, unwavering, its gaze intense.

Ethan took a step back, suddenly feeling uneasy. He blinked, trying to shake off the sensation. But as he did, the world around him seemed to ripple, like a distortion in the air. The sound of birds, the chatter of distant voices, all of it started to fade away, replaced by an eerie silence.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, the ground beneath him seemed to shift, the world bending like a piece of paper.

And then, with a sharp intake of breath, Ethan felt himself being pulled, dragged forward, into the lion’s eyes.

Everything went black.

Ethan woke up, his body stiff. He blinked, trying to adjust to the dim surroundings.

He was sitting on a bench.

The zoo?

His heart raced as he looked around. It wasn’t the same. The air felt different—heavier, somehow. The sky had a strange, unnatural hue, and the buildings around him were… old. Not in the sense of being abandoned, but in a way that made them look timeless—like they had been there for centuries.

He stood up, panic rising in his chest. What happened?

His head spun as he took in his surroundings. He stumbled forward, but the world around him seemed to blur as his legs gave way beneath him. He steadied himself against a nearby wall, trying to make sense of it all.

There were no cars, no technology like back home. Everything felt… so primitive.

“Where am I?” he whispered to himself.

Suddenly, he heard voices. It was hard to make out at first, but then they became clearer. There were people nearby, but they looked different. They were wearing clothing he didn’t recognize—robes, tunics, and strange armors that seemed to glow with an otherworldly energy.

The panic started to rise again, but then a strange calm came over him.

He wasn’t where he was supposed to be. This wasn’t his world anymore.

This was somewhere else.

Somewhere… new.

Ethan slowly took a few more steps, still trying to process what was happening around him. The market in front of him was bustling with life. People were haggling, vendors calling out their wares, and children running about. But everything was so… different. The buildings were low, stone, and made from materials he’d never seen. The air smelled faintly of spices and strange herbs, and the streets were cobblestone, worn down by time.

Despite the surrealness of it all, his mind latched onto something familiar. A stall up ahead caught his eye—one with an image of a lion emblazoned on a sign.

Curious, he walked over. The merchant, a middle-aged man with a weathered face, was selling various trinkets and knick-knacks, but the main attraction seemed to be a large cage nearby. Inside the cage was a lion, but this lion was unlike any he had seen in his old world. Its mane was longer, its eyes gleaming with a strange intelligence. The creature paced, growling softly, but there was something… wrong about the way it moved.

Ethan’s breath hitched in his chest. The lion’s eyes locked onto his, and for a brief moment, the same sensation—the same feeling of being pulled—returned. The world around him felt like it was bending again. He took a step back, feeling his heart race.

The merchant noticed Ethan’s reaction and gave him a knowing smile.

“You have an interest in the lion, boy?” the merchant asked, his voice low. “Not many do. This one’s special.”

Ethan blinked, still trying to make sense of everything. Special? It was just a lion, wasn’t it?

Before he could say anything, he heard a voice calling from behind him.

“Ethan!”

He turned around and saw his mother approaching, a basket filled with various items in her hands. She was smiling, her face warm as always.

“I’m done with my shopping. Time to head home,” she said, walking over to him.

Ethan stood there, his chest tight. The voice—his mother’s voice—was exactly the same. There was no mistaking it. The same woman, the same warmth. But how was this possible? He wasn’t sure whether to feel comforted or terrified by how normal everything felt despite the bizarre world around him.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Together, they walked through the market, and as they passed the stalls, Ethan couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong.

Ethan’s vision blurred as the world around him tilted and spun. He felt the dizziness intensify, his body wavering as though it could no longer support him. His knees buckled, and before he could grasp the situation, the ground rushed up to meet him.

The last thing he remembered was his mother’s voice, filled with concern. “Ethan!”

And then, everything faded into darkness.

When Ethan’s eyes opened again, he found himself in a place that felt both familiar and strange. The air was thick with an almost ethereal calm. He could feel the soft rustling of wind through leaves, the scent of fresh grass and earth hanging in the air. The landscape around him stretched endlessly, rolling hills dotted with trees. There, beneath one of those trees, he saw her.

Sophia.

She sat there, as vivid as ever. Her hair danced lightly in the breeze, and the lion from the zoo lay next to her, its golden eyes alert but calm. Its presence seemed almost natural now, as if it belonged here, just like she did.

Ethan’s heart hammered in his chest. His breath caught, a mix of relief, disbelief, and grief all crashing into him at once. “Sophia,” he whispered, stepping forward. His voice wavered with the weight of everything he hadn’t said to her, everything he hadn’t had the chance to.

Sophia turned her head, that soft, knowing smile forming on her lips as she gazed at him. “Hey, Ethan,” she said, her voice still the one that had always been his anchor. The warmth he had missed for so long flooded him.

He staggered forward, dropping to his knees beside her, his hand reaching out to touch her. “I’m so sorry,” he choked, his throat tight with unshed tears. “I couldn’t protect you… I couldn’t save you. It was my fault.”

She shook her head softly, her smile reassuring. “No, Ethan. It wasn’t your fault. You were never supposed to save me.” She reached out and gently placed her hand over his. “I’ve been with you all this time. Watching over you.”

He looked into her eyes, his face filled with confusion and pain. “But how? How could you be here? Why are you—” His words faltered as the overwhelming truth crashed in on him. “Are we… dead?”

Sophia nodded slowly. “Yes. But not in the way you think.” She paused for a moment, looking down at the lion beside her before continuing. “We were both taken from the world we knew. We’re in another dimension now. A place where things are… different.”

His heart dropped. “A different dimension? But… why are we here? Why am I here?”

Sophia squeezed his hand. “You need to be strong now, Ethan. More than ever. Your life might be in danger, too.”

His eyes widened. “What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

Sophia gave a soft, knowing smile. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

She stood up, her movements graceful, and beckoned for him to follow. Ethan followed her instinctively, as if he had no choice but to trust her. They walked together to the lion, which had shifted its gaze to them, watching with a kind of knowing intelligence.

Sophia turned to him, her eyes glinting with the same spark they always had. “Look into the lion’s eyes,” she instructed. “It will show you what you need to see.”

Ethan swallowed hard, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure what was happening or how to process any of this, but he did as she said. He stepped forward and locked eyes with the lion.

For a moment, nothing happened. But then, the world around him seemed to dissolve, and everything went still. A deep, ancient feeling filled him, as if he were being drawn into something far older than himself. The lion’s eyes were all he could see now, and with every blink, memories began to flood into him.

Visions. Flashbacks.

A voice echoed in the distance, deep and resonant, speaking of a prophecy:

“A child born under the Leo sign shall change the world, will become king, and his destiny will shift the course of history.”

The vision shifted, and Ethan saw a throne room, grand and ancient. The king, dressed in royal garb, sat upon a throne, a dark expression on his face. He listened to his advisors, their words filled with fear and uncertainty.

“The prophecy must be stopped,” one advisor said. “The child of Leo must be eliminated before it can rise to power.”

The king’s voice rang out, cold and resolute. “Send the guards. Kill every child born under the Leo sign, no matter their age. Let none survive.”

The vision swirled again, and now, Ethan saw the night of his birth. A small, dimly lit room. Two infants, just moments apart, born at the very threshold between Leo and Virgo. He saw himself, just a baby, and Sophia, born in the blink of an eye, the transition from Leo to Virgo.

Ethan’s breath hitched as the vision continued. He saw the guards bursting through the door, swords drawn. His parents, frantic, hurriedly hiding them both. But as they did, a cry echoed through the room—a sound that drew the attention of the guards. The sound of Sophia’s first cry.

The guards found her, and before anyone could react, they took her.

“No,” Ethan whispered, his voice cracking as the vision continued. “She died because of me.”

Sophia’s voice broke through the vision, soft and gentle. “Ethan, it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. It’s not about blame.”

“But I was born on the last night of Leo,” he said, his voice breaking. “The prophecy—it’s about me.”

Sophia’s gaze softened, and she reached out, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You’re the one who can change it, Ethan. But you have to be strong. You can’t let the same fate happen to you.”

Ethan shook his head, his heart heavy. “I don’t know how… I don’t know what to do.”

Sophia smiled, her eyes full of hope. “You’ll figure it out. You’ve always been strong. You just have to believe in yourself.”

The vision began to fade, the world around them swirling and blurring as if the dream were slipping away. “Ethan,” Sophia’s voice called one last time. “The path ahead will be difficult. But you can change everything. You just  have to trust in your strength.”

And then, everything went black.