"I… I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bring myself to eat this girl's brain," he thought to himself, his voice a gravelly rasp as he cradled the little against his chest. He ducked into an abandoned barbershop, its shattered windows veiled by cobwebs. His twin sister shuffled beside him, her movements eerily fluid, while behind them trailed a hulking, ashen-skinned zombie whose sunken eyes burned with silent hatred.
Inside, the boy laid the girl gently on a cracked leather chair, its faded red upholstery peeling like old scars. The twins froze as their reflections wavered in the grimy floor-to-ceiling mirror. The boy stood at an average height for a teenager—around 5'8"—with locs the color of burnt caramel spilling over his brow, partially obscuring milky-white eyes. His sister mirrored his sharp cheekbones and full lips, but her own eyes were voids of obsidian, swallowing the dim light. Both wore baggy, streetwear-inspired clothes: his a faded hoodie and cargo pants splattered with dried mud, hers a cropped denim jacket layered over a torn graphic tee. Their skin, a warm mahogany hue, bore the ashy pallor of the undead.
"She looks like Mother," the sister said, tilting her head. Her voice, though similarly rough, carried a softer cadence.
The girl stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. "Hi! I'm Melina," she chirped, swinging her legs. "What's your names?"
The twins' jaws twitched, but only guttural growls escaped. Melina giggled. "Oh! You can't talk? That's okay—I'll name you!" She pointed at the boy. "You're… Lion!" Her finger shifted to the sister. "And you're Lona!" She wrinkled her nose at Ron, who lurked in the shadows. "And grumpy over there is… Ron!"
Outside, rain began to drum against the pavement, its rhythm steady and hypnotic. Lion limped to the fractured storefront window, Lona trailing close. Rivulets streaked the glass, blurring the ruins beyond.
"Sister… the rain," Lion rasped, tilting his face as if to catch droplets through the pane.
"Yes," Lona murmured. "It's… soothing. We've always loved the rain."
For a moment, the siblings stood silent, their warped reflections rippling in the glass.
"Sister."
"Yes, brother?"
"That lullaby the soul reaper hummed… it was Mother's. The one she sang ." His clawed hand flexed. "That *thing* knows where she is."
Lona's black eyes narrowed. "Then we survive. We grow stronger. This second life… it's a thread we can't waste."
"What a joke—alive yet dead. Does this even count as living?"
"Does it matter?" Lona's gaze hardened. "We find Mother "Besides… you've always wanted an adventure."
In the corner, Ron watched, his rotting fingers curling into fists. His time-traveling mind—still human, still furious—screamed a question his zombified lips couldn't form: "Why cant i kill them?"