I Built a Divine Zoo in Another World

Lukas sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, completely incredulous.

The morning sun streamed through the cracks in the window, painting the room in warm golden tones.

The crickets outside had already fallen silent, replaced by the songs of birds announcing the new day. But Lukas paid attention to none of it.

He stared at the pieces of wood still stuck to his fingers, small splinters from the door that had come loose when he tried to leave the room, then at the door marked with tiny cracks and nearly invisible silver threads. The threads glimmered faintly under the sunlight, thin as hair, yet strong as steel.

His violet eyes were wide open. His mouth slightly agape.

As if the world had turned upside down while he slept.

”This... can’t be real.” He murmured, his voice low and trembling with astonishment.

He pulled harder at the fragments. The pieces of wood came off with a dry sound, but left thin marks on his skin, as if they had been glued there with an extremely powerful substance.

He touched the table again, just to confirm. Nothing. His hand slid normally across the polished wood.

He touched it with more pressure. Still nothing.

Then he thought about ”sticking.”

And his fingers stuck instantly.

As if an invisible glue had appeared between his skin and the surface of the table. He pulled. The table creaked. He pulled harder. The wood groaned in protest, but his fingers remained firm, motionless, as if they had been welded there.

He released the intention, merely thought about ”letting go,” and his fingers slid normally again.

Lukas let out a nervous laugh, almost hysterical.

”What is happening to me?”

He hadn’t felt any connection. There had been none of that explosion of warm energy like with Tilbo. No glow, no wave traveling through his body, no invisible line of silver light connecting his consciousness to the spider’s.

Just... this.

Waking up and discovering that his hand was now stuck to things.

He stood up and began pacing back and forth across the room.

The wooden floor creaked beneath his bare feet, creak, creak, creak, in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm that matched his thoughts. His heart pounded in his small chest, so hard that he could feel the pulse in his temples.

”Maybe it happened while I was sleeping...”

The idea made sense.

With Tilbo, the connection had been conscious. He had given her the name, Tilbo, and felt everything. The line of silver light. The energy flooding his body. The comforting burn in his muscles and bones.

With Prata, he had been deeply asleep.

Maybe the spider had climbed onto him during the night, walked across his chest with those delicate legs, her multiple eyes reflecting the moonlight, and formed the connection on her own. Without warning. Without his conscious participation.

He stopped in front of the terrarium.

Prata was inside, motionless, her eight multiple eyes reflecting the morning light. Her black carapace gleamed, and her silver hairs caught the light in tiny sparkling points.

She looked innocent. Almost... satisfied.

”You did something to me while I was sleeping, didn’t you?” Lukas asked, his voice low, without accusation, only curiosity.

Prata slowly moved one leg. She neither confirmed nor denied it.

Lukas sighed.

He took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts.

He sat down in the chair beside the table, rested his elbows on his knees, and placed his chin in his hands.

”First, Tilbo.”

”I gave her a name. I felt the connection. I gained that absurd strength.”

”Ants can carry dozens of times their own weight. And I seem to be able to as well.”

”It makes sense.”

”Now, Prata.”

”Webs. Silver threads that stick to anything.”

He touched the table again. It stuck. He let go.

”How can a human produce webs out of nowhere?” he asked aloud, incredulous.

”That makes absolutely no biological sense.”

He had no silk glands. No spinnerets. Nothing that could produce webs. And yet, there it was, silver threads coming out of his skin as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But then he stopped.

He looked around the room. The old wooden walls. The golden light is coming through the window. Tilbo on his left shoulder, her antennae twitching. Prata in the terrarium, her eyes fixed on him.

”This isn’t my world. Magic exists here. Beasts that shoot bolts of energy.”

”People who glow and become faster.”

”Dragons, wyverns, ice wolves.”

He chuckled softly, running a hand across his face.

”Right. It’s not strange. It’s just... another world. Another set of rules.”

The bedroom door suddenly opened.

”Lukas! Breakfast!” Aurora called from the hallway, her voice affectionate but carrying that note of urgency she used whenever she wanted him to hurry.

”Come quickly before it gets cold! Helga made scrambled eggs just the way you like them!”

Lukas blinked, snapping out of his trance.

”I’m coming, Mom!”

He decided to leave the tests for later.

He didn’t want to go downstairs with his mind exploding with questions, his eyes glazed with astonishment, and his hands trembling with excitement. He wanted to seem normal. He wanted his family not to notice that something had changed.

”After breakfast. In the grove. Alone, then I’ll test it.”

He picked up Tilbo, who climbed onto his left shoulder with a fluid movement, her legs gripping the fabric of his tunic.

He opened the terrarium.

Prata climbed onto his right hand, her delicate legs touching his skin, her black carapace cool beneath his fingers, and then onto his right shoulder, as if it were the most natural place in the world.

The three of them went downstairs together.

In the dining hall, the family was already gathered.

The table was set with the usual breakfast dishes, warm bread, herb butter, mild cheeses, fresh fruit, and the scrambled eggs that Helga prepared with creamy perfection.

Clavor was cutting a large piece of bread, spreading butter on it, and taking a satisfied bite. His sword rested against the wall beside him; he always kept it nearby, even during meals.