Far up in the Arctic Archipelago, alone and distant from any mainland, lay Meighen Island.
From above, it looked almost like someone had dropped a shoe into the frozen sea, then pressed a smaller child's shoe against the upper side of it until the two shapes melted together. The island itself was mostly flat, a barren stretch of loose stone, frost, and scattered snow, with little vegetation beyond patches of moss stubborn enough to cling to life in the cracks. Toward its center, the land rose gradually, sloping upward over tens of kilometers until it reached the island's highest point.
There, at the heart of the island, stood the ancient stone circle.
A smooth circular plateau of dark stone lay exposed beneath the snow, marked with strange carvings whose meaning had long since been swallowed by age. Around it, twelve standing stones rose in silence, weathered and blackened, their surfaces still scarred by the impossible heat that had struck them from the sky.
Not far above the circle, set into the side of the island's highest peak, was a small cave. Snow had begun to gather around its mouth again, slowly burying the entrance beneath soft white layers as the Arctic resumed its quiet work.
Inside that cave, behind a large stone near the wall, lay the only human being for hundreds of kilometers.
At least, Sam thought she was human.
She wasn't completely sure anymore.
All she knew was that she had been killed, dragged through something that felt like death, forced into a new body, shot through the Sun, and thrown into this frozen wasteland as a baby girl in a full-body fluffy bunny suit.
And now she slept.
Curled on a bed of moss between the cave wall and the large stone, she dreamed of home. Not of grand things. Not of money, revenge, or answers. She dreamed of cereal.
Chocolate-flavored cereal, specifically.
A whole bowl of it.
Cold milk.
Her table.
Her rental apartment.
Somewhere impossibly far away, that simple breakfast waited for her as if the world had not lost its mind.
In the dream, she sat alone at the table in her current body, small and round-cheeked, happily spooning endless cereal into her mouth and drinking cool milk like it was the greatest treasure on Earth.
Then her stomach growled.
The sound rumbled through the cave, low and uncomfortable, and the dream shattered.
Sam's brows furrowed. Her long lashes fluttered as her eyes slowly opened, and the first thing she saw was not the wall of her apartment, but the dim stone wall of the cave coming into focus in front of her.
For a moment, she didn't move.
She lay there, caught in the heavy softness between sleep and waking, still hoping that if she blinked enough times the cave would vanish and her apartment would return.
It didn't.
She yawned, small and unrestrained, then stretched instinctively. Her tiny body curled and extended like a lazy cat waking from a long nap, the thick bunny suit shifting softly around her.
Another rumble passed through her stomach.
She went still.
"…oh."
The realization came with a quiet sigh.
"Oh man," she murmured, her voice soft and gentle in that still-unfamiliar baby-girl tone, "I could really go for a bowl of cereal right about now…"
She shifted slightly onto her side, and as she did, something in front of her caught her attention.
There on the moss, glowing faintly in the dim cave light, was the Lightstone.
The thing she had somehow made.
Sam stared at it for a moment, still not entirely sure what to think. It definitely had not been there before she came into the cave. That much she knew. So unless stones in the Arctic normally decided to turn into glowing crystals overnight, the only reasonable conclusion was that she had somehow transformed an ordinary little rock into this.
A stone of light.
Its surface looked like pale glass, smooth and white, with a faint translucent depth to it. At the center, barely visible unless she focused, a tiny point of light pulsed like a heartbeat.
Sam blinked.
Her expression softened almost immediately.
"…oh. Hello there, Mister Lightstone Number One."
The stone pulsed once.
Brightly.
Sam paused.
"…or should I call you Neo, the Chosen One?"
The Lightstone pulsed again, as if approving of the name.
Sam stared at it.
Then, despite herself, she smiled.
That was amazing.
Ridiculous, maybe. Impossible, definitely. But amazing.
Still, as the wonder settled, other truths came with it. She could feel the connection between them now more clearly than before. Somewhere inside her chest, around that strange core of light wrapped around her heart, something reached outward toward the stone. It was not only emotional or spiritual, though it was those things too. It felt almost physical, like an invisible thread stretched from her heart to the small crystal in front of her.
A magical thread.
Thin.
Bright.
Alive.
The thought should have terrified her more than it did. Maybe it would have, if there had been time. But with that realization came the much worse, much more immediate truth.
She was not home.
She was still here.
In a hole in the side of a frozen island, in the middle of nowhere, with no food, no people, and no idea what had happened to the world.
For a second, the fear tried to rise again.
Sam pushed it down.
She was still Sam.
That name still felt right, even if the body no longer matched it. She still thought like Sam. Still remembered being Sam. Still had the same stubborn, annoyed, half-panicked inner voice that had carried her through one disaster after another.
So fine.
She would deal with this.
One problem at a time.
First, she carefully reached out and picked up the Lightstone—Neo, apparently—cradling it in both mittened hands. Warmth seeped into her fingers immediately, gentle and comforting. With it came that same quiet presence, faint but unmistakable, responding to her touch as if happy to be noticed.
"Yeah," she said softly, looking down at it. "I guess it's just you and me here."
Neo pulsed.
Sam gave it a serious look.
"Oh, Neo, you wouldn't happen to know some way for me to get something to eat, would you? Because honestly, I have no idea what babies eat other than milk." She glanced around the cave, then down at the moss. "Can I eat moss? Or stone? No. No, I don't think that's part of my baby capabilities at the moment."
Neo answered with two bright pulses.
Sam felt the encouragement in them immediately. It was warm, positive, almost motivational.
Unfortunately, it did not come with food.
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered. "Inspirational. Not helpful."
Still, the glow steadied her.
With a small huff, she began pushing herself upright. It was still awkward, still clumsy, but easier than before. Her body remembered a little more this time, or maybe she was getting better at working with its terrible balance and useless little limbs.
As she rose into a seated position, her eyes drifted down to the moss beneath her.
It looked different.
Subtly, but clearly.
The patch had widened. It was thicker now, softer, its green deeper and healthier than she remembered. The frozen stiffness from before was gone, replaced by something damp and alive, as if Neo's warmth had not only protected her, but helped the moss recover too.
"…huh."
Her gaze lifted toward the cave entrance.
Snow had drifted inward during her sleep, piling along the opening and partially blocking it. A faint breeze still slipped through the gaps, carrying the distant cold of the outside world, but it no longer felt quite as overwhelming.
Then her stomach growled again.
Louder.
Sam winced and brought one mittened hand down to her belly, rubbing it through the thick fabric of the suit.
"Yeah, yeah… I hear you."
The humor faded quickly.
There really was nothing to eat here.
The cave was empty. The moss was probably not food. The stone was definitely not food. Her best option was to go outside and search the island, which was an awful plan, but also the only plan available. Maybe there was water. Maybe fish. Maybe some kind of Arctic snail existed, though she had no idea if that was real or if her brain had just made it up under stress.
She was not a survival expert.
Not even close.
The thought of stepping back out into that frozen wasteland sent a flicker of unease through her. The memory of the cold was too fresh: the way it pressed into her skin, burned her lungs, and made her body feel like it was slowly shutting down.
Then she looked at Neo.
The small Lightstone pulsed softly in her hands, steady and reassuring.
"…right."
She took a small breath.
"I've got you, Neo."
The stone glowed.
"That counts for something."
With some fumbling, she pulled open the collar of her bunny suit just enough to slip the Lightstone inside. For a moment it sat awkwardly against her chest, uncomfortable and not exactly secure, so she shifted it carefully down through the suit until she managed to guide it into her right mittened hand.
Warmth settled around her fingers immediately.
Better.
Much better.
Using the large stone beside her for support, Sam pushed herself to her feet. It took effort, and her balance was still uncertain, but she managed. After a moment of wobbling, she steadied herself and turned toward the cave entrance.
Step by step, she made her way forward.
The snow piled at the opening rose nearly to her waist, but for once her tiny body worked in her favor. She was so light that she didn't sink deeply into it, and after a bit of awkward climbing, pressing her hands into the packed surface and dragging herself upward, she reached the top.
Sunlight hit her face.
She blinked, blinded by the sudden brightness, and immediately tipped forward.
"Ah—!"
She slid over the other side of the snowbank without dignity, tumbling onto her stomach as gravity took over. The world opened around her, bright and white and vast, as she slipped down the snowy slope toward the stone circle.
The descent was smooth.
Fast.
Much faster than she expected.
A startled laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it.
She slid straight into the center of the ancient circle, coming to a soft stop among the twelve snow-covered stones. For a moment she simply lay there, giggling in her high, bright little voice, not bothered by the cold nearly as much as before. Between Neo's warmth and the bunny suit doing whatever miracle work it was designed for, the outside air felt almost tolerable.
Almost.
Sam pushed herself upright, brushed loose snow from her front, and walked toward the edge of the stone circle.
For a moment, she only gazed out.
The island stretched before her in every direction, a vast white emptiness beneath the pale Arctic sun. The snow reflected the light so sharply that she had to narrow her eyes, and above her, the heavy clouds were drifting apart, leaving behind a washed-out blue sky that reached all the way to the horizon.
Snow no longer fell.
The world was still.
Too still.
Just like before, there was no real sound. No wind strong enough to howl. No animals calling. No distant engines. No proof that anything existed beyond this island but ice, sky, and silence.
She wondered again how long she had slept.
There was no way to know.
Then her stomach growled, loud enough to break the spell.
"…right," she muttered. "Stop gawking at the nothingness and go find something."
Her gaze moved over the island more carefully this time, searching for anything that stood out.
And then she saw it.
Near the far edge, where the land met the sea, there was a strip of darkness cutting through the white. The ice had not fully returned there. A narrow stretch of open water still separated the island from the surrounding frozen expanse.
Actual water.
Maybe fish.
At the very least, something other than stone and snow.
Her eyes lit up slightly.
"That's… something."
Without overthinking it, she started moving.
Her steps were still uneven and slightly clumsy, but more confident now as she left the stone circle and headed down toward the lower ground. She made it only a short distance before one foot slipped out from under her.
"—oh!"
She dropped forward onto her stomach and immediately began sliding again.
This time, she didn't fight it.
The snow carried her downhill with surprising speed, her small body gliding easily over the surface while gravity did most of the work. A laugh escaped her, bright and delighted, cutting through the silence as she sped toward the distant shoreline.
"Yippee—!"
The sound rang out absurdly small against the enormous white island.
"Oh my God—I'm so fast!"
Cold air rushed past her as she slid, the island stretching ahead, wide and empty and unknown.
And for just a moment, despite everything, Sam smiled as she slid. However the slide lasted longer than she expected.
Much longer.
At first, Sam thought she would slow down after a few seconds, maybe hit a flat patch, roll over, and have to drag herself back upright. Instead, the island kept carrying her. The snow-covered slope dipped gently downward for what felt like forever, smooth enough that her small, light body skimmed over it like a loose feather caught on ice.
She slid until the stone circle vanished behind her.
Then she walked when the land flattened.
Then she slid again when the ground dipped.
The island was vast in a way she hadn't understood from above. What had looked like a simple stretch of white from the cave now became endless ground beneath her, kilometer after kilometer of snow, stone, and shallow frozen ridges. The sun stayed above the horizon, never truly setting, only drifting behind passing clouds now and then before returning to glare across the white world again.
Time became difficult to measure.
There was only movement, walk, slip, slide, climb, slide again.
Her body grew tired, but Neo's warmth stayed steady inside her mitten, and whenever the cold tried to creep too deeply into her, the little Lightstone pulsed against her hand as if reminding her to keep going.
So she did.
For what felt like the entire day, Sam crossed the island one awkward stretch at a time. Sometimes she moved upright, wobbling over uneven patches of stone hidden beneath the snow. Other times she dropped onto her stomach willingly and let the slope carry her, sliding over the white surface with her arms tucked close and her bunny ears trailing behind her.
By the time the land finally began to flatten properly, her excitement had worn thin. The cave was far behind her now, so far that when she turned and looked back, she could barely make out the high center of the island at all. It was just a distant rise in the white, small and uncertain, swallowed by space.
That realization made her pause.
She was far from the only shelter she knew.
Far from the stone circle.
Far from anything familiar.
Her stomach growled again, weaker this time, but sharper somehow.
Sam pressed a mittened hand to her belly and grimaced.
"Yeah," she muttered. "I know."
She forced herself onward.
The ground ahead lifted slightly into a small snowy ridge near the coast. It wasn't tall, but after the long journey it felt like a mountain. Sam climbed it slowly, using her hands as much as her feet, digging her mittens into the snow and hauling her little body upward inch by inch.
Then she heard something.
She froze.
At first it sounded like voices.
Not human voices, exactly. Rougher. Stranger. A mixture of barking, grumbling, and wet, throaty complaints carried over the cold air from somewhere beyond the ridge.
Sam lifted her head.
"…what is that?"
The sounds came again, a living sounds. Her heart quickened, both of them.
She scrambled the last bit of the way up the ridge, pushed herself over the crest, and stopped.
Below her, the sea stretched out dark and cold where the ice had not yet closed back over. The shoreline was rough, a strip of gravel, stone, and half-melted snow where the island met the water.
And there, lounging near the edge of the shore, were five fat seals.
Sam stared.
For a few seconds, her mind simply refused to do anything useful with the information.
There were seals, actual seals, five of them.
Two smaller ones were flopped near a larger seal, sleeping close together in a lazy pile of smooth gray bodies. The largest one lay on its back like some kind of ridiculous king, belly exposed to the pale sun, eyes closed in what looked like complete satisfaction with life.
A little farther away, two medium-sized seals appeared to be arguing. They faced each other with their heads raised, barking and grumbling in strange bursts, occasionally shuffling their heavy bodies over the gravel as if whatever disagreement they were having was both urgent and deeply stupid.
Sam blinked.
"…seals."
Relief came first.
Then confusion.
Then the practical part of her brain caught up and ruined the moment.
"What am I supposed to do with seals?"
She looked down at herself.
Tiny body. Bunny suit. Mittens. No tools. No weapons. No rope. No knife. No fishing line. Nothing.
The seals were enormous compared to her. Even the smaller ones looked big enough to flatten her by accident, and the largest one might as well have been a living boulder. Hunting them was impossible. Fighting them was suicide. Even bothering them too much seemed like a bad idea.
Then again, they were alive.
That alone mattered.
They knew how to survive here. They knew where food was. Maybe they meant fish. Maybe they meant water. Maybe they meant something other than endless stone and snow.
Sam exhaled slowly.
"Well," she said, not sounding convinced even to herself, "it's better than nothing."
She lowered herself onto her stomach again and slid down the snowy ridge toward them.
The descent was short but quick, carrying her almost all the way to the edge of the snow. She came to a stop where the white gave way to dark gravel, then pushed herself upright with a small grunt. Her legs wobbled under her, but she steadied herself and looked toward the seals.
They were only a few dozen meters away now.
The two arguing seals noticed her first.
Their barking stopped.
Both heads turned.
Large black eyes fixed on her.
Sam froze, one mittened hand half-raised.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then, trying to look as harmless as possible—which was not difficult, given everything about her current appearance—she lifted her hand a little higher and called out, "Hello. I'm Sam."
Her voice carried softly across the shore.
The seals stared.
One blinked.
The other tilted its head.
Then they turned back toward each other and resumed making irritated grumbling sounds, as if she had interrupted an important private conversation but was not interesting enough to address.
Sam lowered her hand.
"…yeah," she murmured. "Fair."
She started forward again, moving carefully now across the rough stone. The gravel was harder to cross than the snow, uneven beneath her padded feet, and she had to focus on every step to avoid falling flat on her face.
The seals watched her approach with varying degrees of laziness.
The large one on its back opened one eye as she came closer, blinked at her, then closed it again as if deciding she was not worth the effort. The two sleeping seals stirred, lifted their heads slightly, then settled back down. The two arguers paused only long enough to check that she was still small and unimpressive before continuing their strange little dispute.
Sam stopped beside the largest seal.
Up close, it was absurdly huge.
Compared to her, it looked less like an animal and more like a soft gray rhinoceros that had given up on having legs. Its body rose in a thick curve of blubber and muscle, its whiskered face broad and sleepy, its black eyes glossy when it finally opened them again.
The seal rolled slowly onto its stomach and looked down at her.
Sam looked up.
Way up.
Her survival instincts immediately reminded her that this thing could probably crush her by turning too enthusiastically.
She lifted both mittened hands.
"Hello," she said carefully. "I come in peace."
The seal blinked.
Sam nodded, as if they had established formal diplomatic relations.
"Good talk."
The large seal sniffed the air.
Then the two smaller ones stirred more fully. They wriggled away from their comfortable spot and shuffled toward her, their round bodies moving with awkward determination. They stopped close enough that their whiskered faces nearly pressed against her suit, sniffing with sudden interest.
Sam went very still.
"…okay. Hi."
One of them nudged her right mitten.
The one holding Neo.
Neo pulsed.
The small seal made a soft, pleased sound.
The other leaned in too, whiskers brushing against the mitten as it sniffed, then gave a happy little rumble deep in its throat. Sam felt Neo's warmth brighten faintly, and with it came a gentle pulse of recognition.
They could feel it.
Or smell it.
Or sense it somehow.
Whatever Neo was, the seals liked it.
Sam carefully lifted her right hand and let the nearest small seal press its face against the mitten. Its whiskers tickled through the fabric, and when Neo pulsed again, the seal's eyes half-closed in obvious contentment.
"…oh," Sam whispered. "You like that?"
The smaller seal answered by flopping down beside her feet.
The second one followed almost immediately, curling against her other side as if this had always been the plan.
Sam stared down at them.
"Well. That's new."
The large seal watched this for a moment, then seemed to reach a conclusion of its own. With slow, heavy movements, it shuffled closer, dragging its bulk over the gravel until it settled near her as well. The two arguing seals noticed the sudden gathering, abandoned their dispute, and made their way over with curious grunts.
Within moments, all five seals had surrounded her.
Sam stood in the middle of them, tiny and stiff, while a wall of warm, fat bodies formed around her like an accidental fortress.
The largest seal sat directly in front of her.
For a moment, it simply looked at her.
Sam looked back.
"…what?"
The seal opened its mouth.
Sam's eyes widened.
"No, no, wait—"
It retched.
A wet, awful sound followed, and then a half-digested mess of fish, oily scraps, and unidentifiable sea things landed on the gravel in front of her.
Sam recoiled instantly.
"Ugh—!"
The large seal made a pleased sound, as if it had just performed an act of deep generosity, then lowered itself beside her with a satisfied huff.
The other seals settled too, pressing close, warm and content, their heavy bodies surrounding her on all sides. Neo pulsed softly in her mitten, and the seals seemed to relax further each time it did.
Sam stared at the offering.
Fish remains.
Partly digested.
Probably mixed with whatever else seals ate.
She swallowed.
Her stomach growled.
Loudly.
The betrayal was immediate and humiliating.
"…seriously?" she muttered, looking down at herself. "This is what we're doing?"
Her stomach answered with another cramp of hunger.
Sam closed her eyes for a second.
Then opened them again.
The fish was disgusting.
But it was food.
Maybe.
Probably.
Hopefully.
She lowered herself carefully to her knees, trying very hard not to think about the smell. In front of her lay a broken piece of fish, softened and torn by stomach acid, but still recognizable enough to count as meat.
Her face twisted.
"Oh man…"
She reached for it with one mittened hand, then stopped, reconsidered, and used the edge of the mitten instead, pinching it as delicately as possible.
"Is this really going to be my first meal in this body?"
The large seal gave another pleased rumble.
Sam looked at it.
Then at the fish.
Then back at the seal.
"…thanks, I guess."
The words came out with genuine reluctance, but also genuine gratitude.
Because awful as it was, the seal had given her something.
She took a small breath through her mouth, held it, and lifted the piece closer.
"Well," she murmured, voice resigned, "not like I have much of a choice."
And so, kneeling on the frozen shore, surrounded by five strangely friendly seals and holding half-digested fish in her mittened hand, Sam began her survival journey on Meighen Island.
An island whose name she did not yet know.
But one she would learn in time.