Morgana hurried out of the apartment and down to the street. She broke into a run, her heart pounding from more than just exertion. As she reached the school gates, she slowed to a walk, trying to catch her breath and compose herself.

The morning sun broke through the curtains, casting soft light across Morgana’s desk. Her laptop was open, slides neatly arranged, and notes aligned in perfect order. Her title gleamed at the top of her presentation:

"The Reanimation Threshold: Neural Decay and the Limits of Biological Revival."

It was a subject she had spent months perfecting, a study that bridged her scientific curiosity with the world she had grown up fearing— the world of the dead.

When her name was called, Morgana walked to the front of the hall with calm confidence. Her voice was steady, her gestures sharp but controlled. Every question from the panel, she met with clear, well thought out answers. She cited her sources, explained her findings, and defended her thesis like someone who had lived through it, who had seen death and life blur together and still chose to understand it instead of fear it.

When the lead panelist finally smiled and said,

"Congratulations, Miss Vale. You’ve passed,"

Morgana’s heart leapt. She exhaled for what felt like the first time in months, bowing slightly before leaving the room.

By the time she stepped outside, her hands were trembling with relief and pride. She texted Big D first— no response, then smiled softly and sent a message to Sid:

"It’s done. I passed! Going home with food. We’re celebrating."

She even stopped by a bakery, buying Sid’s favorite pastries and a tub of ice cream she knew he loved. For the first time in a long while, she was excited to go home. But when she opened the door to Sid’s apartment, the sight that greeted her froze her smile.

Sid was already dressed— hoodie on, sneakers tied, his brace hidden beneath loose pants. The crutches leaned against the wall, untouched. His bag was slung over his shoulder.

"Sid?"

Morgana asked softly, setting the food down. "

Where are you going?"

Sid turned with a small grin.

"Hey. You’re back early."

"Yeah, I just finished my thesis defense."

"That’s great,"

Sid said quickly, adjusting his jacket.

"Congrats."

His tone was polite, distracted.

"But, uh, Big D called. There’s a Dead World Online

tournament downtown. He says it’s insane—real pros showing up. I thought I’d go watch for a bit."

Her smile faded.

"You’re joking, right? You can’t even walk properly yet."

"I can manage. I took something for the pain."

Her eyes darted to the table and there it was. The half empty bottle of painkillers. Morgana’s stomach twisted.

"Sid, you took more again? You promised you’d stick to the dose!"

"It’s fine,"

Sid replied, trying to brush past her.

"It helps me move. Don’t start."

Her voice rose.

"You’re not supposed to move like that! You’ll ruin your leg even more!"

He stopped and looked at her, frowning.

"Why are you being so strict lately? You’re worse than my mom!"

The words hit her like a slap. Morgana froze, staring at him as the color drained from her face. Sid realized what he had just said and exhaled sharply, guilt flickering across his eyes.

"I didn’t mean to yell at you like that... sorry. I was actually about to invite you to come over—"

"No need. I’m fine,"

She cut in quickly, her voice tight.

"Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, okay? If you don’t want to come, I won’t push you. I’ll be back before dark. Don’t wait up."

The silence that followed was heavy. Morgana stood there, eyes trembling, her hands still clutching the grocery bag. The tub of ice cream slid from her grip and landed softly on the floor. She sank down beside it, knees folding under her as the melting ice cream pooled around the plastic.

Her breath hitched. She looked toward the closed door, the sound of Sid’s fading footsteps echoing in her chest like something breaking apart.

She had imagined walking in, telling him the good news, seeing him smile again but instead, she was alone, her celebration melting away on the floor, and tears streaming quietly down her face.

She sat on the floor for a long while, staring blankly at the puddle of melted ice cream. Her eyes were red, but eventually, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and forced herself to stand. Her voice came out low but steady.

"Maybe he’s right... I’ve been too strict. I’ve been treating him worse than a mom. I just— I just wanted him to live carefully now. Because if something bad ever happened to him again, I don’t know what I’d do. I’m so stupid..."

She looked at Sid’s empty chair, at the faint glow of his computer screen still on standby.

"And I was the one who pulled him into that world. I was the one who told him to escape."

Her jaw tightened with resolve. She walked to the desk, opened the computer screen, and let the familiar hum of Dead World Online fill the room. The screen flared to life, washing the dark apartment in cold blue light. Her fingers moved instinctively, logging in and loading her account.

In the dead cityscape of the game, Morgana’s avatar stood alone amid the fog and decay. She looked at the zombies slowly wandering across the cracked streets. Their faces were pale, sunken, yet oddly human. Morgana found herself studying them again— every twitch, every motion of their hands. Her mind drifted back to her thesis, The Reanimation Threshold. She whispered to herself,

"It’s strange... the way they move, it’s like their nervous systems are still remembering what life used to feel like."

She moved her camera closer to one zombie wearing a torn business suit. Its fingers twitched near an old cellphone. Morgana watched, fascinated, her analytical mind taking over.

"That hesitation... it’s almost like muscle memory. They’re dead, but something still... lingers."

The sound of rain tapping against the apartment window faded into the background as she sank deeper into the game. The glow of the monitor painted her face in soft, ghostly light.

Then, behind her, the faint sound of the door unlocking broke the silence.