The screen fades in to a quiet, snow-covered neighborhood. Abandoned bikes lie frozen on sidewalks, and swings creak in the wind. A soft, weary voice narrates: “They called it The Sick. Nobody knew where it came from, only that it spread fast. People coughed, trembled, and vanished. The world tried to fix it... but the world broke instead.” Flashbacks flicker—hospitals overflowing, cities locking down, empty streets echoing with sirens and silence. Nature slowly begins to reclaim what was left behind.

Then, just as everything was falling apart, something new appeared. Babies were being born… different. Part human, part animal. Deer ears, snouts, feathers, fur. “No one knew if the hybrids caused the virus... or if the virus caused the hybrids,” the voice continues. We see a newborn with antlers being held close by a crying nurse, then a terrified crowd outside a hospital. “But fear... fear spreads faster than any sickness.” The scene ends with a wide shot of the broken world—and a small boy with deer antlers hiding in the trees, watching it all.

The overhead lights cast a soft glow as Dr. Billie moved through the nursery, her steps quiet against the sterile tile. Each hybrid infant was tucked into their pod, their strange, beautiful features illuminated by the gentle pulse of monitors. She stopped at the last crib—a newborn with floppy ears, a little black nose, and a chest that rose and fell with a slow, steady rhythm. She looked like a pup more than a baby, curled in a tight bundle, her fur still damp from birth. Billie smiled faintly as she adjusted the vitals screen. But then, her ears twitched sharply. Her nose lifted, sniffing the air. A low growl rumbled from her tiny throat. Billie froze. One by one, the other babies stirred, some crying softly, others simply alert. The dog baby barked—just once—and every monitor in the room spiked. Billie stared at the screen, her hand hovering in place, unsure what had just shifted.