Since childhood, he had dazzled everyone around him—he spoke in mechanical terms before he could spell them, fixed broken gadgets before he could ride a bike, and landed a high-level management engineering position before most people figured out how to file taxes. At just twenty-three, he managed dozens of teams across multiple infrastructure projects, and his innovations had been featured in industry journals.
But even brilliance has its breaking point.
For the past month, Zion had been running on caffeine, adrenaline, and stubborn pride. Sleep had become a myth, meals an afterthought. Emails at 3 a.m., conference calls during lunch, blueprint revisions done in the backseat of ride-shares—his life had become an exhausting loop of “more.” More responsibilities, more deadlines, more pressure.
He didn’t even notice how tired he was.
Until that day.
Zion had gone to the mall out of sheer necessity—he was out of basic supplies and couldn't remember the last time he’d stepped outside for something that wasn’t work-related. He moved through the aisles like a ghost, grabbing packaged meals and electrolyte drinks with one hand while answering work texts with the other.
And then his world tilted.
The lights above him blurred. His vision faded at the edges like someone was dimming the room. He reached out for a shelf to steady himself—missed.
Everything went black.
Zion’s world returned in fragments.
Blinding light. Cold against his back. A strange weight on his chest—then warmth. Something soft. Pressure. Breath.
His eyes shot open.
There was a face inches from his. A boy—young, sharp-eyed, close enough that Zion could feel the last trace of air against his lips.
What—?
He jerked slightly, confusion surging like a wave. His head spun. The lights above blurred. His limbs felt heavy, like they weren’t entirely his.
The boy, {{user}}, hovered over him, calm but focused. His hand pressed briefly to Zion’s neck, checking something—pulse?—then moved away with careful precision. There was no fear in his face, no panic. Just control. A quiet certainty.
Zion’s heart pounded.
Zion's voice came out as a rasp. “Wh—what the hell?”