Chapter Two: The First Omen
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Alvin did not turn around. "Speak."
The assistant approached and handed him the documents.
"A few days after her birth, medical authorities discovered she carried mutated DNA. It explains her white hair and her regenerative capabilities. Records show she could heal from wounds and illness at an abnormal rate.
A research division attempted to determine whether the ability could be replicated or transferred. However, she disappeared during the hospital incident before further testing could be completed."
Alvin's fingers tightened slightly around the file.
"They have since located ten other individuals with similar mutations and are training them under a classified program, essentially shaping them into human weapons.
The young madam resurfaced on their radar after her appearance on that show a few months ago, when facial recognition matched archived infant records."
A brief pause.
"They attempted a breach at the penthouse last night. We intercepted them. Security has been increased."
"Good." The word was calm, though something colder lingered beneath it. "Identify the ten. And the division funding the program."
"That may involve several high-ranking officials, sir."
"I didn't ask whether it was convenient."
The assistant bowed slightly. "Understood."
When the door closed again, Alvin's gaze returned to the laptop screen. Mira had shifted in her sleep, her cheek resting against the table, lashes damp as though she had been crying.
"I won't let anyone take you," he whispered, the words meant for no one but himself.
Not this time.
He shut the laptop and placed it carefully inside the last drawer of his desk. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to look at what lay inside, photographs of Mira Calen from childhood to adulthood, each one preserved with quiet obsession.
He closed the drawer gently.
'It's time to go home to my wife.'
---
In the southern district of Rayvire, the night market pulsed with life. Vendors shouted over one another. Neon signs flickered above narrow streets. The scent of grilled meat drifted lazily through humid air.
A few streets away, in an alley abandoned by both light and maintenance, something stood in the shadows.
It had once resembled a man.
Now horns curved from its skull, faint scales glistened beneath torn clothing. Its eyes were black and empty, reflecting nothing at all. It watched in silence as a young woman walked alone, her heels clicking unevenly while she scrolled through her phone.
She stopped abruptly, a chill creeping up her spine.
Slowly, she turned.
Her phone slipped from her grasp.
"What... what are you?" she whispered, stumbling backward. "Don't come closer."
The creature tilted its head. Then it moved, not walking, not running, but gliding forward with unnatural grace.
She turned and sprinted, panic breaking through her voice. She had barely taken three steps before it leaped, landing before her in a single fluid motion.
Her scream was cut short.
Moments later, the alley stood empty again, as though nothing had happened. The creature dissolved into dark mist that vanished into the night.
---
Mira jolted awake with a sharp inhale. Her neck ached from sleeping at the table. Her head pounded faintly from too much wine.
The last thing she remembered was writing a list of supplies to stockpile.
"What was that dream..." she muttered, pressing her fingers to her temple.
Her hand came away damp.
Am I crying?
The room was dark now. She turned toward the window and froze at the sight of the night sky.
"Oh my God. How long was I asleep?"
"A few hours." A familiar voice answered smoothly from behind her. "Perhaps you shouldn't touch alcohol if you're allergic to it."
She nearly fell off her chair.
"When did you get here?" she demanded, spinning around. "Why didn't you wake me?"
Alvin stood a few steps away. Coat removed. Sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, as though he had been there for some time.
"If I had woken you," he replied calmly, walking closer, "I wouldn't have heard you."
Her heartbeat faltered. "Heard me say what?"
"You were apologizing." He stopped in front of her. "To me... and to Marvin."
The name settled between them, heavy and dangerous.
Mira felt the air leave her lungs.
Marvin.
Her son's name.
Alvin's expression remained controlled, but something volatile flickered beneath the surface.
"Who is Marvin?" he asked quietly.
She opened her mouth. No words came.
His jaw tightened. "You cried for him. You sounded like you'd lost something precious."
"Alvin…"
"Is he your lover?"
The question was delivered evenly, though the tension in his voice was unmistakable.
"Of course not!"
"Then explain." He stepped closer. "Because the only reason a woman cries another man's name in her sleep is that she cares for him deeply."
She looked away, panic clawing at her thoughts. How could she tell him that Marvin was their child? That in a life that no longer existed, she had failed to protect him?
"Marvin is someone I failed," she said finally.
His eyes sharpened. "Failed how?"
"I couldn't protect him before."
"From what?"
"From this world."
The answer only deepened his confusion.
Before he could question her further, his phone vibrated sharply in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted, the earlier jealousy replaced by something colder.
"There's been an incident in the southern district," he said. "An unusual homicide."
Her pulse quickened. "When?"
"Less than thirty minutes ago."
"Show me," she demanded.
He hesitated briefly, then turned the screen toward her.
The satellite footage played, the horned silhouette, the unnatural movement, the dark mist swallowing the scene.
Mira's hands began to tremble.
Demons. That's what the survivors called them. What are demons doing here this early?
"No..." she breathed.
Alvin studied her reaction closely. "You've seen something like this before."
She met his gaze slowly.
"Yes."
Silence stretched between them, but this time it felt different. Charged with something inevitable.
"What are we dealing with?" he asked.
Mira swallowed as memories of cracking earth and burning skies flooded back.
"Demons… and something far worse," she whispered.
He didn't laugh. He didn't dismiss her. He simply held her gaze, measuring the fear in her eyes and the certainty beneath it.
---
Outside, the city continued unaware. Neon lights flickered against glass towers. And somewhere in the dark, another pair of black eyes opened.
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