The snow had stopped, but the silence remained.
Alec watched from across the street — eyes hidden behind dark glasses, hands deep in his coat. Thirteen hours, forty-two minutes, and six seconds. That's how long it had been since she was born.
The world didn't know it yet, but fate had already taken its next breath.
Inside, Lína slept. Her dreams were quiet.
But her presence whispered to the divine.
And they heard.
That night, a shadow slipped through the hospital's roof — slick, red-eyed, wrapped in smoke. It was no human. It moved like a thought, unseen.
But as soon as it entered the hallway, a gust of unnatural wind shattered the windows.
And Alec was there.
In a single movement, he tore the thing in half — no hesitation, no mercy. Smoke hissed. Ash scattered. The walls screamed.
Alec stood still as the alarms wailed around him.
> "The King is testing the waters," he
muttered. "So be it."