Prologue: The Day the World Rewrote Itself

  "C-A-T. Cat."

  The word floated through the air, soft and deliberate. Teacher Kylie held up the flashcard, her pale fingers contrasting against the vibrant colors of the illustrated feline. The classroom buzzed with the hum of air conditioning, a necessity in Singapore’s relentless humidity. Around her, the walls were a cheerful chaos of zoo-themed decorations—tigers and toucans, monkeys and meerkats—all paired with sight words and numbers in English, Mandarin, and Malay.

  "C-A-T. Cat," she repeated, her brown eyes scanning the circle of preschoolers seated on the alphabet rug. "Can you say it with me?"

  "C-A-T. Cat!" the children chorused, their voices a mix of enthusiasm and uncertainty.

  Kylie smiled. This was her world—bright, predictable, safe.

  Then the lights flickered.

  Bzzt. Bzzt.

  The fluorescent bulbs above sputtered, and the smartboards mounted on the walls glitched, their displays warping into static. A collective gasp rose from the children as they huddled closer together, their wide eyes darting around the room.

  "Don’t worry, everyone," Kylie said, kneeling to their level. Her black braid slipped over her shoulder as she gestured reassuringly. "It’s probably just maintenance. I’m right here."

  The lie tasted bitter. Maintenance didn’t make the air crackle with ozone, nor did it twist shadows into claw-like shapes on the floor.

  "Teacher Kylie…"

  A small hand gripped her skirt. Mei-Li, the pigtailed girl who cried during fire drills, pressed her face into Kylie’s side. "I’m scared," she whispered.

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  "Me too!"

  "Me too!"

  Kylie opened her mouth—

  —and froze.

  Eli floated three inches above his carpet square, glowing like a human firefly. His eyes had gone milky white, head tilted at an unnatural angle as if watching invisible credits roll across the ceiling.

  "Eli?" Kylie's voice barely a whisper.

  "Eli?! Are you alright?!" Kylie lunged forward, her teacher’s instinct overriding the primal scream building in her throat. His skin was cold, pulse thready. Not a seizure, not anaphylaxis—

  "Gasp! Teacher Ky—"

  Saaral’s voice cut off mid-shriek. The girl hung suspended now too, a second tiny star in their macabre constellation.

  "Saaral!" Kylie's voice cracked, panic clawing at the edges of her composure.

  The room erupted into chaos as one by one, the children began to glow, their bodies suspended in the air like stars caught in a frozen sky. Kylie spun around, her gaze darting to the glass wall that separated the classroom from the hallway.

  Boom.

  The building shuddered. Lights died.

  In the sudden dark, Kylie staggered back, heel catching on a block tower as she turned toward the glass wall.

  Her breath hitched.

  Through the pane, she could see the same phenomenon in every other classroom she saw Ms. Gupta’s class across the hall—also glowing. Kindergarteners glowing in every room hovered like fireflies in jars, teachers frozen mid-panic, the world unravelling at the seams.

  Then it seized her.

  An invisible force clamped her limbs, her voice strangled as though a hand had plunged down her throat. Her muscles burned, tendons screaming against the puppet strings holding her upright. Her mind raced, her thoughts a frantic jumble. What's happening? Is this real? Am I dreaming?

  What—?

  A holographic screen exploded across her vision, it's neon glow cutting through the darkness, accompanied by retro carnival melody that felt grotesquely out of place. The screen displayed a slot machine, its reels spinning with symbols she couldn't quite make out.

  Kylie's mind screamed in protest. What is this? Some kind of sick joke?

  Text scrolled across the bottom of the screen:

  [Do you bend to fate… or forge destiny from chaos?]

  Hallucination. Shock. This isn’t—

  [Pull the lever, Kylie.]

  Her arm jerked upward without permission, fingers curling around the phantom lever. The slot machine spun with a ka-chunk and the reels began to spin.

  The music crescendoed, a cacophony of trumpets, violins and drums that made her head throbbed. The symbols on the reels blurred together, then slowed, one by one, until they aligned:

  [CLASS AWARDED: NURTURE WHISPERER]

  Kylie blinked, her mind struggling to process the words. Excuse me—? Nurture Whisperer? What does that even mean?

  Before she could form coherent thoughts, a blinding light detonated behind her eyes and engulfed her vision, washing out the world in a sea of white.

  As consciousness frayed, a mechanized voice hissed in her ear like steam from a rusted pipe:

  "May your class let you survive… and succeed."

  The last thing she heard was the sound of her own heartbeat, loud and frantic.

  Then the world dissolved into static.