There was a moment—just a flicker, really—when the world was perfectly, enchantingly ordinary.
Christopher Nolan had just clicked the final button on his laptop, sealing away another company's tangled web of numbers with the decisive precision of a wand stroke. He rose from his chair with the quiet dignity of a man who had mastered his craft and tucked his chair in without a sound. As he adjusted the cuffs of his buttoned shirt, thoughts of dinner with his family fluttered into his mind like owls to a windowsill—meatloaf perhaps, or Sofia's roasted vegetables, followed by a father-son engineering session to tweak the RC hovercar prototype that George had been so excited about.
Far across the bustling sprawl of New York, in the sunlit halls of Westbridge Medical University, Sofia Nolan waved cheerfully to her final student of the day. Her laughter echoed softly in the marbled corridors like bells in a cathedral, her heels tapping a farewell rhythm upon the floor. She cradled a folder of notes in one arm, and in her heart danced a tune she could never quite hum aloud. Her thoughts were of home—George's endless sketches of robot Pokémon, Isabella's fiery passion for MMA, and the hope that tonight, perhaps, she'd get to steal a kiss from Chris before the children made faces and shouted "Ewwww!"
And at home, nestled in the warmth of a house that pulsed with familial joy, Isabella and George ascended the staircase toward their bedrooms. Isabella's ponytail swung in time with her confident gait, her backpack slung with martial flair. George clutched his notebook—pages full of dreams and schematics—and cast his sister a look that was part mischief, part triumph. A glance passed between them: one part secret code, one part sibling pride.
We nailed it today.
And then—
Everything stopped.
There was no crack, no thunder, no flash.
Just white.
Blinding, absolute white.
The kind of white that swallowed sound, sensation, thought itself. It was not the white of hospital walls or blank pages—it was the white of a world unmade.
Chris blinked. Once. Twice.
His hand, which had been reaching for the doorknob, now hovered in air—air that felt like nothing. There were no walls, no carpet, no ceiling above. Only a vast, chilling void, stretching in every direction like an endless canvas waiting to be painted.
"Sofia?" he called, his voice clipped and calm, echoing strangely—not across the space, but through it, like it had been etched into the bones of time.
"Chris?!" came a reply—familiar, bewildered, and close.
Out of the blankness stepped Sofia, her eyes wide and searching, her folder clutched like a shield. Her heels made no sound, but she walked all the same, pulled by something unseen.
And then—
"Mom? Dad?" piped up a young voice, sharp as a whistle.
Isabella appeared, fists curled slightly at her sides, eyes darting with trained suspicion. She moved like a cat—alert and ready, even here. Behind her, George stepped into view, remote control in hand, as though he might switch off this place with a button press.
"This isn't VR, right?" he said quickly, frowning. "Isabella—this isn't your projector thing?!"
"No," she replied, eyes narrowing. "This isn't anything I made."
The family stood together then, four souls against the void, instinct drawing them into a tight circle. Chris placed an arm protectively around Sofia. The children leaned in close.
"Everyone okay?" Chris asked, his voice steady, yet sharpened with an edge of tension.
"Fine," Sofia replied, but even her warm tone trembled slightly with the uncertainty of it all.
"Where are we?" George asked.
The void answered not with words, but with sound. A low hum began to rise—not mechanical, but alive. Ancient. Elemental. It pulsed through the space, vibrating in their chests like the murmur of some great being taking its first breath in a millennia.
Then came the voice.
Deep. Resonant. Magical.
"Christopher Nolan. Sofia Nolan. Isabella Nolan. George Nolan."
It spoke not from above or around, but from everywhere and nowhere, echoing not just in their ears—but in their very bones. The sound carried the weight of prophecy, of legend, of something older than stars.
Chris squared his shoulders and stepped forward, his face calm, eyes narrowed.
"Who's there?" he demanded, not with fear, but with resolve. "Where are we? What do you want?"
Then, as if pulled from the very fabric of this place, he appeared.
A figure cloaked in shadow and majesty, tall and commanding. His armor was like obsidian, drinking in the light, and a violet cape rippled behind him like a banner of dusk. His eyes burned—not with fire, but with purpose, like two crimson comets caught in orbit.
He was not man.
He was Alpha.
You are in the Realm Between Realities, the voice replied—calmer now, almost kind. Alpha's lips had not moved, but the words rang from his being like a bell tolling in a forgotten cathedral.
The white around them shimmered, peeled back, and changed.
Suddenly, they were standing on a floating island suspended in an endless sky. Beneath them, ancient stone paths were overgrown with luminous vines. Around them, towering peaks floated like drifting ships, and in the distance, winged creatures soared. Wyverns. Dragons. Elegant, deadly, beautiful.
They bowed in flight toward Alpha, circling high above his citadel—his domain.
Here, he was king.
The Nolan family stood in silent awe as the void gave way to a surreal, breathtaking realm.
The floating island beneath their feet was vast and ancient, its stone paths etched with glowing runes that pulsed gently with a magic none of them could name. Strange plants shimmered with colours not found in their world—soft indigo, burning gold, and whispering green. Above them, dragons circled lazily through the air, their scales catching the light like living jewels. The wind smelled faintly of thunder and lilacs.
Isabella let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Okay… that's cool," she muttered, wide-eyed, inching closer to her mother.
George stared, mouth slightly open, his fingers twitching as if longing to sketch everything he saw. "Are those real dragons? Like… real-real?"
Chris put an arm out, guiding the children behind him and Sofia. His instincts had shifted, honed by the gravity in Alpha's voice. The family might have been pulled into a storybook, but the stakes were already far beyond fairy tales.
Alpha stood before them, every part of him radiating power that felt ancient—elemental. Though he looked like a man clad in armor, there was something far more primal beneath his form. His wings shimmered faintly at his back, folded like a cloak of night sky.
Then he spoke.
"You have been chosen," Alpha said, voice even and unwavering. "To aid in the liberation of humanity."
Chris didn't flinch, but the muscle in his jaw tightened. "Liberation? From what?"
Alpha's crimson gaze swept across the family. If there was any warmth in his stare, it was buried deep beneath layers of experience and sorrow.
"From those who seek to rule over them," he replied. "You are not the only ones chosen. Others will stand beside you in this struggle."
The words hit like cold iron. Chris felt the weight settle over him—not like armor, but like chains. Chains that reached not only for him, but for Sofia, for the kids. He stood taller.
"What if we refuse?"
There was a pause.
And then—for the first time—Alpha's expression shifted. Not anger. Not scorn. But something far more haunting.
Pity.
"You cannot refuse," he said simply. "If you were to return home now, it would only be to wait for the day your world, too, falls into the hands of another species. A day when your family would no longer have the luxury of choice."
A silence followed, heavy as stone.
Isabella's fists clenched, but she said nothing. George looked between his parents, eyes clouded with confusion.
Sofia took a breath, her voice quieter than usual, but laced with steel. "Why us? Why not… you? If you're this powerful—why not just stop them?"
Alpha's head tilted slightly, as though he'd heard this question a thousand times in a thousand different languages. And perhaps he had.
"A fair question," he said. "And not cowardly. Life isn't so simple."
His gaze softened—just barely.
"Let me explain in a way you can understand. We, the guardians, exist to protect the balance of realms. But if we act directly in favor of humanity, the forces who oppose our decision—those who wish to take the resources of your universe—will retaliate. They will descend upon your kind not for your planet, but for everything in your cosmic thread. Every world connected to yours would fall. And humanity would be erased as collateral."
"We are strong," he added, "but not enough to fight all of them together."
Chris looked to Sofia. Her hand had found his, fingers lacing tight.
"Then what can we do?" he asked quietly.
Alpha stepped forward, and with him came a rush of wind. The dragons above bellowed faintly in the distance.
"That's where you come in," Alpha said. "You are outsiders—people not of the invaded worlds. Which is why we may help you instead of your native humans."
"We will grant you abilities—unique, awakened—along with companions to walk with you. You will not fight alone. With time, you will rise in power to a level where you can influence the future of humanity."
"You don't have to become the strongest. But you must become... relevant. Make allies. Make enemies. Carve a path that others will notice. Show the forces beyond your world that humanity is not prey."
He looked at them—truly looked now—and for a moment, the terrible power behind his eyes gave way to something more... hopeful.
"This is why you were chosen. Not because you are perfect. But because you are good. You have the strength to grow. You have the will to protect. And that, in this realm, is a seed we can nurture."
Sofia's brow furrowed. "But if we go back… can we?"
Alpha nodded slowly.
"You could return. But it would not be the world you left. Your Earth has already begun to evolve. We sent a pulse—an awakening. Dormant gifts, old magics, sleeping souls... will begin to stir. Your planet will grow stronger, stranger. And others will be watching."
George blinked. "So… Earth's becoming a fantasy world?"
"Something like that," Alpha replied.
Chris looked at his family.
Sofia's hand was still in his. George stood quietly, his sketchbook now held tight to his chest, and Isabella—her chin tilted up, the faintest crease between her brows—was watching Alpha with the wary eyes of someone trying to measure the weight of their future.
There was no way out of this.
Even if they turned away now… even if they asked Alpha to return them home… Chris could already feel the shape of what awaited them. A world that might no longer accept them. A world that, even before all this, had grown too narrow for something greater.
And worse still, what if Alpha wasn't lying?
What if this being—this immortallike dragon garbed in shadow and fire—was telling the truth? If they turned their backs now, and this guardian was truly trying to help… would their refusal brand them as threats?
Would they die anyway, just by walking away?
Chris's thoughts churned like storm clouds. Sofia's eyes met his—sharp, intelligent, and filled with the same weight he carried. So they stepped back for a moment, letting the children linger close to the glowing runes while they spoke quietly, just the two of them.
"He's giving us a choice," Sofia whispered, folding her arms. "But not really."
Chris nodded slowly. "We're cornered. This is a gilded cage… but maybe a safer one. At least for now."
He thought of his firm—his reputation, his years of building something that mattered. It would go on without him, perhaps, but not for long. Without its spine, it would bend or break. And worse, if the company he'd defied ever got wind of his disappearance, it might be dismantled just to erase his legacy.
"My firm will probably fall," he said. "And the employees… they won't put their lives on the line for something without its head. They're loyal. Not suicidal."
Sofia nodded. "And my position at the university… even if I came back, there'd be questions. I'd be discredited. Disappeared without a trace? They'd write me off as mentally unstable or worse."
Chris glanced at the children.
"They'll lose their education," he murmured.
"Maybe," Sofia said softly. "But maybe they'll gain something far greater."
She looked around the island again, eyes dancing with the silent hum of impossible technology and strange creatures gliding through the sky like living legends. "This place is far beyond our Earth. If they learn here… they won't just get degrees. They'll surpass the world."
Chris exhaled deeply, the final knot inside his chest loosening.
This is the new reality.
And perhaps… the beginning of something greater than any courtroom or lecture hall could offer.
With that, they returned to where Alpha stood waiting—still as a statue carved from cosmic flame and shadow, his dragons coasting overhead like sentinels of fate.
Chris stepped forward.
"We're ready to accept your decision," he said, voice firm but respectful. "But we ask one thing—guide us. Arm us properly. We're not thrill-seekers. We don't intend to run into death like fools chasing glory."
Alpha's eyes, glowing crimson and deep as stars, narrowed—not in disapproval, but with a faint gleam of understanding.
He inclined his head.
"Wise," he said. "Too many believe courage is the same as recklessness. It is not. And you… are not here to die. You are here to grow."
He extended a hand, and the air before them shimmered, four golden cards appeared before them, floating effortlessly in the air, pulsing with a strange, radiant energy.