The morning sun slipped through the thin curtains, laying stripes of gold across the small kitchen floor.
Outside, gulls cried over the Thames, their voices mixing with the low hum of the waking city. The smell of coffee and toast filled the air, drifting in from the counter where a battered kettle whistled.
"Papa Bear, you're gonna be sooo late again."
Mira stood in the bathroom doorway, arms folded, her long hair still messy from sleep. At eight years old, she already spoke like she was in charge of everyone's schedule.
Arin spat toothpaste into the sink and grinned at her through the mirror. "Morning Light, I've got plenty of time."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's what you said yesterday. And then you ran like a silly penguin."
From the kitchen came Lina's voice, warm and teasing. "She's right, you know."
Lina was leaning against the counter, hair tied back in a loose knot. She wore her favourite plaid pajama pants and held a steaming mug. The soft light caught in her eyes as she smiled.
Today, she wasn't rushing out the door. She had taken a day off from her job at a small publishing company, where she spent most days reading drafts and correcting other people's mistakes.
"I even made your lunch," she said, lifting a paper bag. "Don't forget it this time."
Arin took the bag and kissed her cheek. "Starling, you make me sound like I'm hopeless."
She smirked. "That's because you are."
Before he could answer, the flat's hallway shook with the thump-thump-thump of little feet.
"Papa Bear! Papa Bear!"
Leo burst in, roaring at the top of his lungs, a plastic dragon clutched in one hand. At five years old, he was all energy and no volume control. "Dragon's on patrol! We saw a squirrel, and it was THIS big!" He held his arms out far too wide.
Arin bent down, ruffling his son's hair. "That's huge, Little Fang. Did you scare it off?"
"I chased it!" Leo announced proudly. "But it ran in the tree, so the dragon's gonna burn it out later."
Arin laughed, shaking his head. "Only you, Little Fang. Only you."
---
The table was already a battlefield of crumbs, jam smears, and mismatched mugs. Mira sat cross-legged on her chair, sketching on the corner of a page instead of eating her toast. Leo chewed with his mouth wide open, making sound effects for the dragon's "squirrel battle."
Lina took a sip of coffee and looked at Arin. "We're going to Greenwich Park after lunch. Morning Light's bringing her sketchbook, and Little Fang's bringing…" She glanced at Leo's toy. "…chaos."
Leo's eyes went wide. "The dragon's coming too!"
Arin smiled. "If you get lost in the park, remember — just listen for your nicknames. That's how we'll find each other."
Mira swallowed her toast and gave him a look. "I'm not gonna get lost, Papa Bear. I'm big now."
Leo puffed his chest. "I'm super-fast! Monsters can't catch me!"
Lina grinned. "You're talking to the man who loses his wallet twice a month, his keys every week, and his lunch whenever I'm not here to pack it."
Arin raised his hands in surrender while the kids giggled. "Okay, okay. But the rule still stands. If you hear your nickname, you shout back. Deal?"
"Deal!" Mira and Leo said together, voices bright.
---
When breakfast was done, Mira slid a folded sheet of paper across the table. "Here, Papa Bear."
Arin opened it carefully. The drawing showed the four of them standing in the park, a huge bird with a flaming tail flying above.
"It's us," Mira said proudly, "and the sky bird that's gonna protect us forever."
"It's perfect," Arin said, tucking it into his bag.
Leo ran up and placed the plastic dragon beside the paper. "For you. So you can scare the boring away when you're at work."
Arin chuckled and added it to his bag too. "Two treasures. I'll keep them safe."
---
The hallway smelled faintly of old paint and the neighbour's frying bacon. They hugged at the door, each goodbye using only nicknames.
Arin stepped out into the cool morning air. The narrow street was lined with red-brick houses and flower boxes spilling with colour. A light breeze carried the mixed scents of river water and fresh bread from the bakery down the road.
He passed the shop, nodded to the baker setting out warm loaves, and crossed toward the entrance of the Greenwich Foot Tunnel. Cyclists wheeled past, and tourists stopped to take photos under the curved stone arch.
Halfway across the square, a pigeon in front of him froze mid-step. Its head jerked once, then it moved again as if nothing had happened.
Arin frowned, then shook his head. "Weird," he muttered, and kept walking toward the station.
---
By the time Arin reached Canary Wharf, the glass towers were glowing in the soft light of mid-morning. The air inside his office building smelled faintly of coffee and printer ink. People hurried through the open-plan space, carrying folders and half-finished cups.
His desk was tucked away near the back. He fixed a password issue for one person, found a missing file for another, and set up a headset for a third. All of them gave quick "thanks" without really looking at him. It was normal. He was the sort of person who only stood out when something broke.
At lunch, he unwrapped a sandwich at his desk. His phone buzzed. A message from Lina:
Photo: Greenwich Park. Mira was sitting cross-legged on the grass, her sketchbook open, tongue sticking out as she concentrated. Beside her, Leo was halfway up a short railing, grinning like he was on a mountaintop.
The picture made Arin smile, but also ache. He wished he were there instead of here.
He put the phone down and turned back to his computer.
The screen flickered.
For a heartbeat, faint blue symbols spun in a perfect circle on the monitor. Then they vanished. The desktop looked normal again.
Arin blinked at it. "Weird graphics bug," he muttered, and went back to work.
---
Work finished with the same hum and shuffle it always did. Outside, the sky over the Thames was painted gold and deep orange. Arin took the riverside path toward Greenwich. The water flowed dark and steady, carrying the colours of the sunset across its surface.
Ferry horns called from far away. A jogger passed him. Two kids raced each other on scooters.
He stopped by the railing near the pier and leaned on it, letting the cool metal rest under his palms. From his bag, he pulled out Mira's drawing.
The paper was a little crumpled, the pencil lines faint in places, but the image stood clear—the four of them standing together under a huge bird with a tail like fire. He traced the bird's wing with his thumb.
A low vibration thrummed through the ground beneath his shoes.
Arin froze and looked around.
The hum faded. The sound of the river and distant traffic returned. A breeze tugged at the drawing's edge.
He folded it carefully and slid it back into his bag.
---
The hum came again—stronger, sharper. This time, a thin ring of blue light etched itself into the pavement around Arin's feet. Symbols shimmered within the ring, moving like they were alive.
A calm, unfamiliar voice spoke inside his head.
System Initialization: Transmigrant Confirmed.
Arin stumbled back, but his legs didn't leave the circle. People nearby gasped. One woman tried to move and couldn't. A man dropped his coffee cup, and for a split second, it seemed to hang in the air before it fell and splashed across the ground.
"What is this?" someone shouted.
And then, across the world—
In Tokyo, crowds at a crossing stood frozen mid-step, blue rings glowing at their feet.In a Marrakesh market, a boy tossed an orange to his friend, and it stopped mid-air.In Times Square, neon lights flickered as glowing symbols formed under the crowd.
Above every city, the sky filled with strange patterns—circles and lines shifting and locking together like some vast, alien puzzle.
The voice returned, steady and without feeling.
Taming Protocol initializing. Do not resist the Transfer.
---
The blue rings grew brighter, pulsing against the ground. The air felt thin, like it was being pulled away.
Arin yanked Mira's drawing from his bag and clutched it to his chest.
"Starling! Morning Light! Little Fang!" he shouted, his voice breaking.
The world tore apart. Colours stretched into blinding light, the air around him turning into cold mist. His body felt weightless, as if the ground had dropped away entirely.
His mind spun.
What's happening? Where's Lina? Where are the kids? Are they safe?
The light swallowed him whole.