But elsewhere, far beyond the physical realm, in a place untouched by time or life…
A flame danced endlessly in the void, shifting and flickering until it formed the shape of an 11-year-old boy. His hair was snowy white, streaked with strands of dark red. His eyes held no emotion as he raised his hand, summoning a floating book that flipped open on its own.
"This has gone far too long," the boy said, his voice distant and eerie. "No one has been able to entertain me."
An old man with eyes full of ancient wisdom bowed deeply. "B-but My Lord… Only one of the brothers has died. What of the other?"
The boy's eyes narrowed. "It doesn't matter. He will not be able to live either way."
And the book began to burn.
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Wing B – General Ward
Night fell quietly, cloaking the hospital in an eerie silence. Time was an unknown blur. The only sound that dared to break the stillness was the rhythmic pulsing and beeping of an ECG monitor—its echo danced down the empty corridors, a soft but steady reminder that life, however fragile, still lingered within these walls.
At the nurse's station, under the dim glow of a flickering fluorescent light, a lone duty nurse sat slouched over her paperwork. Sleep tugged heavily at her eyes. Her head dipped forward as her eyelids lost their battle—until she jolted awake with a sharp gasp, barely missing the edge of the desk with her forehead.
"Man… I don't get paid enough for these night shifts," she muttered, rubbing her face. Her body protested every step as she made her way toward the water dispenser, trying to shake off the haze. She glanced down the hall, instinct drawing her toward the patients' rooms.
She opened the door to Liam's room, expecting the usual. But something felt wrong—off. Her eyes snapped to the ECG. The heartbeat pattern was erratic, uneven. Panic settled in her chest.
"No, no, no…" she breathed, then turned on her heel and sprinted back to the desk. With shaky hands, she picked up the receiver and pressed the emergency button. "Code blue! I need the duty doctor now!"
Within minutes, the Duty Doctor arrived, coat flapping as he rushed in. The moment he saw the monitor, his face turned pale. He moved quickly, performing chest compressions, checking vitals, administering medication—all while barking orders. But no matter what he tried, the beeping slowed… and slowed…
…until it stopped.
A heavy silence swallowed the room whole.
The doctor let out a slow, defeated breath, his hands hovering above Liam's now-still chest. He looked over at the nurse, eyes dark with sorrow, and quietly said, "Call the patient's parents."
Ten Minutes Later…
The hallway filled with hurried footsteps and panicked breathing. Liam's mother and father arrived, still clinging to a shred of hope—only to have it shattered the moment they saw the doctor's expression.
The mother's legs gave out beneath her. She collapsed to the floor, a cry caught in her throat. Her face twisted with a pain too deep to scream. Her hands trembled as they reached out, searching for something, anything, to hold on to. But there was nothing.
The father stood frozen for a heartbeat before rage surged through his veins. He stormed toward the doctor, fists clenched, grief mixing with fury. He grabbed the front of the doctor's coat and shoved him against the wall.
"You said Liam could live!" he shouted, voice cracking. "You said he could live if he had Asher's heart. You killed him! You let him die! You killed him!"
The doctor didn't resist. He stared into the man's eyes, his own voice soft and broken. "I understand, sir… I truly do. Please… calm down."
The father's strength gave out, the fire in his chest replaced by hollow sorrow. He let go, falling to his knees beside his wife. His arms wrapped around her trembling body as they wept together—two broken souls mourning the loss of the last piece of their family.
After some time, the father numbly stood and went to fulfill the formalities. Papers, signatures, documents—each stroke of the pen felt like betrayal. Meanwhile, the mother remained seated on the cold floor, her eyes fixed ahead, wide and unblinking. Her gaze seemed to pierce through time itself.
She looked alive, but something in her had died.
Dead Realm – The Higher Plane
Far removed from the grief-stricken world below, an endless void stretched across eternity. Darkness and light danced together in silence, neither winning nor losing. Here, time flowed differently. Souls drifted aimlessly, unanchored and unknowing—until two faint glimmers began to move toward each other.
No eyes could see them, yet something in the fabric of this plane responded to their presence. The souls drew closer, circling each other, their motion instinctive and intimate—two halves of the same whole, recognizing one another beyond time and death.
Above them, a boy watched. No older than eleven, he stood barefoot in the air, robes flowing around him like wind-touched water. His eyes, ancient and deep, bore the weight of countless centuries.
He raised a single finger and uttered a phrase no mortal ear could comprehend: "#$%^%$$)*$&^%$#."
It was the divine tongue—known only to the few who dwelled in this high realm. The command pulsed through existence, summoning forth a radiant throne behind him, his form shimmered… and split.
Two 11-year old boys emerged- eerily alike, their eyes glowing with ethereal energy. In front of them, the twin souls had begun to stir.
The one of the Two 11-year old boys flicked his finger again.
The twin souls shuddered… then reignited, Awareness flickered like candlelight in their eyes..
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