People always made it out like the void was supposed to be cold. Empty.
A lifeless nothing stretching forever.
But they were wrong.

It was warm. Almost... comforting. Like sinking into a bath that had remembered your exact body shape. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I wasn’t in pain.

Wait... if this is death—why can I still feel?
Can you feel anything in the void?
A dull ache began to bloom behind my eyes. Throbbing. Persistent.
Of course. Leave it to life—or death—to welcome me with a headache.

Then, out of the dark, a small pinprick of white light flared into view. Distant. Inviting.
Oh. So this is it. The afterlife. Maybe God finally showed up to say sorry.
He better.

The light swelled, growing larger, brighter—too bright. It pushed through the darkness like a sunrise that refused to be ignored. Then came the sound.
At first a whisper. Then voices. Then everything.
They crashed into my ears, incomprehensible and deafening.

And suddenly—panic.

An invisible hand clutched what would be my chest. No. No no no.
Had some miracle-working paramedic pulled me back? Was I... still alive?
The once-gentle glow now scorched my vision, burning through my retinas like a white-hot blade.

Is this a hospital ceiling?

Then everything hit. All at once. A million senses detonating like fireworks in a sealed room.
Sight. Sound. Smell. Taste. Touch.
It was overwhelming. Like learning how to exist all over again.

The sharp voices resolved into speech, but not in any language I recognized. Harsh syllables, rhythmic tones, completely alien.
My eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly.
Above me: a high, cracked brick wall.
Iron-framed windows blurred by dust and age.
A single ray of light cutting across the room like a blade.
Everything was unfamiliar.

And then—I was moving.

Arms wrapped around my tiny form. I was being lifted, cradled. I couldn’t fight it, couldn’t even control the way my head lolled limply to the side.
I tilted toward the figure holding me—and met his gaze.

A man in his mid to late twenties. Pale shaggy hair, a faint five o'clock shadow across a sculpted jaw, eyes like tempered steel. Strong, tired, and handsome in that rugged, accidental way.

Well. At least I’ve landed in the arms of a looker.

I tried to raise my hand. It flailed awkwardly. Boneless.
I opened my mouth to speak, to ask what was happening.
Only a soft gurgle escaped.

And then it hit me.

My body. My movements. The way I couldn’t control anything—
I’m... a baby?

A chill rippled through me that no blanket could ever fix.
How? Why? What kind of cosmic joke was this?

Questions exploded in my brain, each one louder than the last. My headache returned full-force, like my infant body resented my adult-level overthinking.

Suddenly, a sharp wail pierced the air—shrill and furious.
A baby crying. But it wasn’t me.

I turned in the man’s arms just as he shifted his gaze toward the sound.
Standing nearby was a woman. Young. Serene. Cradling a newborn in her arms, her long snow white hair clinging to her temples from sweat. Her smile was tired but warm.

Another baby.

I’m a twin.