《Mortal Anchor》


 The Ordinary World

    Beep... Beep... Beep.


    The constant beeping of the heart monitor was a familiar sound in the sterile Operating Theater.


    Elias Carter was lost in concentration. His brows furrowed, and his hands moved with the precision of a skilled surgeon. He was known for his steady hands¡ªmagical hands, as some called them¡ªthe man who never failed to save his patients.


    A young man, barely reaching his teenage years and still very much a child, lay on the operating table. He was anesthetized, with his chest open and blood pooling deep into his chest cavity. The scene was worse than Elias expected.


    "Scalpel," his voice sliced through the tension. Without hesitation, the nurse placed the instrument in his waiting hand.


    He exhaled, focused and prepared to make the incision when¡ª


    BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...


    The heart monitor screamed a warning.


    "BP''s dropping!! 80 over 50!" The anesthesiologist exclaimed, his voice full of alarm. "Heart rate 120 and erratic!!"


    The boy was crashing.


    "Suction!" Elias reacted immediately.


    As the nurse applied the suction, he carefully probed the damaged tissue with his fingertips until he found the source of the arterial bleed.


    "Got it!!" His voice was low and firm. "Clamp!!"


    The surgical assistant was already there, properly positioning the clamp. A tense silence followed as the bleeding slowed and the crisis was momentarily contained.


    "Vitals stabilizing," the anesthesiologist noted. "BP''s 95 over 60. Heart rate is still elevated, but it''s a regular rhythm now."


    Phew....


    The danger had passed, for now, but the battle was far from over. They still need to restore the injured organs and the shattered ribs. There was still a lot to fix.


    The kid had a long road ahead.


    "He''s not going down without a fight, this one," a young resident said. "Most people wouldn''t have made it this far."


    "He''s lucky really..." the nurse murmured, her voice soft with admiration. "He''s lucky that Dr. Carter was on call tonight."


    Elias looked up with a smile. "It wasn''t just me, though; it was a team effort." He corrected, his tone soft yet firm. "We all played a part here."


    He was a talented man; everyone at Mount Sinai Hospital knew it. But he was never one to take credit for himself. He always made a point of recognizing the contribution of his team or his colleagues.


    "Alright, everyone!" Elias said, turning back to the operating table. "Less talking, more saving lives, please."


    They resumed the operation with a newfound purpose to give this kid a second chance at life. They worked hard through the day till the final light of day.


    Elias finally stepped back from the operating table, sleepy and tired, but satisfaction evident in his eyes. "We''re done here," he declared with a rough voice. "Close him up."


    His team quickly and efficiently started the final phase of the surgery.


    He was proud of them and proud of himself. Another life saved, another victory against mortality. The long hours and constant pressure were worth it. He was, after all, a healer; that was his calling.


    Elias scrubbed out and changed before making his way to the waiting area. The kid''s family had been waiting the entire day. He could clearly see the worry and fear lurking in their eyes. They looked up as he walked in; a mix of optimism and possibly a little trepidation was on their faces.


    "Doctor... how..." the boy''s mother asked, her voice shaking. "How is my son?"


    Elias offered her a reassuring smile. "The surgery went well," he said. "It was touch and go for a moment, but he''s stable and survived despite his condition."


    She let forth a joyful sob. "Thank you... thank you, doctor..." was all she could manage.


    The boy''s father grasped Elias''s hand. "You saved my son. I...I''m not sure how to repay you, doctor." He spoke with unshed tears in his eyes.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "There''s no need to repay me anything," he added kindly. "Your son is in recovery right now; the nurses will let you know when he''s ready for visitors."


    Elias understood that his job was more than stitching wounds or setting bones. It was also about giving hope. Another life he saved meant keeping a family whole, reuniting children with their parents, and sparing a loved ones from grief.


    Finally, he excused himself and walked back to his office.


    "Another successful surgery, Dr. Carter?" asked a passing intern.


    "Thankfully yes... but I''m spent." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was now that exhaustion really struck him. "I swear, I''m going to sleep the entire night!"


    The intern chuckled. "Well... have a nice nap then, Doctor; let''s hope nothing major happen tonight."


    "Hey... don''t jinx it!". He shot her a wary look.


    Elias stepped into his small, sparsely furnished office and sank into his chair. The night had been long, but his work was not over. No... what followed were reports and patient updates. The less glamorous side of being a doctor.


    Again, with a deep breath, he turned on his computer and began typing.


    Hours slipped by. His sight was blurry, and his eyelids were heavy. He tried so hard to resist the need to sleep, yet his mind said otherwise.


    And the unprecedented happened next, he was standing at the edge of a cliff. A wide ocean stretched out before him.


    What the....


    He knew it was a dream because the water mirrored a sky of colors¡ªcrimson, gold, violet, and emerald¡ªswirled together in a chaotic and mesmerizing way.


    A gust blew in from the ocean, dense with something much... much older than the time itself¡ªa presence that crawled beneath the skin and hummed in the bones. The air trembled with a deep and resonant thrum that was somewhere between sound and quiet.


    Then he saw them, rose from the churning depth. Collosal figures, their form shifted in a flowed and twisted colors¡ªemerald, sapphire, and amethyst¡ªlike oil on water, or light breaking through glass.


    They were immense being, yet elusive, their edges flickering, dissolving, then reconstructing, as if the water itself was striving to keep them in place. Their eyes burned¡ªnot with fire, but with an old and knowing brilliance. And yet, they swayed, stuck between presence and oblivion.


    One figure, bathed in golden light stretched a trembling hand to him. Its dazzling eyes sparkled¡ªnot with anger or fear, but with something deeper, unspoken. Its lips moved, but the air around him altered, conveying a faint whispers¡ªnames he couldn''t recognize, echoes of triumphs and tragedies long forgotten.


    Elias felt a weight in his chest, a pain he couldn''t understand, as if he was standing at the bedside of a patient he couldn''t cure. The sorrow wasn''t his, but it wrapped around him.


    Instinctively he reached his hand through the thick golden glow. His fingers brushed against the figure''s outstretched hand. But there was nothing solid, simply a smoke passing his grasp.


    "Who...who are you?" Elias asked, his voice wavering slightly in the face of such immense force and sadness.


    The golden figure flickered, its light fading like the last embers of a dying fire. Shadows crept over its body, absorbing the light, only for it to flare up again, determined to fight the darkness.


    Then he heard it. A voice so ancient and substantial, like a wind through brittle autumn forest leaves.


    We...are fading...


    The words passed through him, hollow and distant. A heavy aching settled in his chest, and an unbearable sense of loss pressed between his ribs.


    The world...forgets...


    Another figure dropped from the swirling vortex above. It was humanoid, but shrouded in shadow, its eyes glowing crimson. Elias was instantly overcome with dread, a primal fear he had never felt before.


    the crimson-eyed figure blurred forward like a streak of darknees cutting through the air. The golden figure barely had time to react before a crushing blow sent it sprawling. The shadows swallowed the light as the golden form shuddered.


    No....


    Cracks ran like veins of fire over the golden figure''s body. A single fragile flame flashed in its chest before it crumbled to dust.


    Nooo...


    The shadow figure straightened itself, towering over him, its crimson eyes fixed on him. A stiffling presence filled the space between them, like an unseen weight pressing on his ribcage.


    Then it spoke, its voice creeping into his bones, dry as a whisper, but keen as a knife.


    They are weak..... Their time is up.


    The shadow figure loomed over him¡ªthen nothing.


    He startled awake, a piercing gasp escaping his throat. His pulse was thundering in his ears. Cold sweat slicked his skin, leaving his scrub moist and clinging uncomfortably.


    "What......" Elias''s brow furrowed, his gaze darting around in confussion.


    Beeppp.... Beeppp.... Beeppp....


    The constant, loud buzzing of his pager cut through the haze of his dream. He fumbled for the device with his heart still racing from the vivid visions in his head.


    Squinting at the little screen, he read the message: "MASS CASUALTY INCIDENT. BUILDING FIRE. ALL HANDS ON DECK."


    He ran his hand down his face and exhaled sharply. "Unbelievable...!" he said. She just had to jinxed it, didn''t she.


    He checked his watch, and it was 11:30 PM.


    He sprang from of his chair, grabbed his white coat and rushed out of the office. The hallways, which are usually quiet at this late hour, were already alive with activities. Nurses and orderlies dashed past him with purposes.


    As he pushed through the double doors into the Emergency, a mayhem unfurled before him. Gurneys were wheeled in at a frenzied pace, each carrying a burning victim.


    The smell of smoke assaulted his nostrils, mixed with the sickeningly sweet coppery blood that hung heavy in the air. Moans of pain and anguish echoed while a nurse bellowed orders with such powers that even an experienced doctors straightened their spines.


    "Move...move...move!!! Unless you want to be my next patient!" She barked, just avoiding a collision with an orderly who appeared to be one coffee away from resigning.


    "What have we got?" Elias inquired, his gaze sweeping across the scene as he neared the triage area.


    "Apartment fire, looks like it started on the lower floors and spread quickly," a frantic-looking nurse replied, her voice straining. "We''ve got everything from crispy eyebrow to full-blown charcoal. We''ve also got people jumping from the window. We''re overwhelmed, Doctor."


    Elias clapped his hand once, sharp and decisive, cutting through the confussion like a knife. "Alright listen up!!" His voice cut through the commotion.


    "First and foremost, anyone with severe burns or who is having difficulty breathing!! Everyone else, stabilize and triage¡ªno one will be left behind!!"


    He moved fast, his gaze shifted from one patient to the next. His trained eyes catching the shallow rise and fall of a chest here, and the pale lips of someone gasping for oxygen there.


    A young woman wheezed through burnt lips, and he pointed. "Airway''s compromised¡ªget her on oxygen now!!"


    A man clutched his arm and whimpered, his flesh crimson but pretty much intact. Elias barely spared him a glance. "Pain meds and dress it, he can wait!"


    Elias was not just barking orders. He was making a split-second decision that may mean the difference between life and death. And he didn''t want to lose anyone tonight¡ªnot on his watch.


    Then his gaze fell on a young woman on a gurney, her skin burned and areas of raw flesh visible beneath the burns. Her breathing was weak, and her body trembled.


    "She needs the OR now!!!" He barked. "60 percent burn over her body¡ªshe''s in shock. Prep her for surgery, stat!"


    He moved on to another patient, an older man slumped against a gurney with his chest rising in erratic bursts. His lips had the dusky hue, and Elias recognized it instantly.


    "Oxygen and IV, stat!" he ordered. "Heavy smoke inhalation, watch for carbon monoxide poisoning!"


    He saw a little girl next and his gaze softened. The girl sat on the edge of a stretcher, her tiny frame trembled, and her face blackened by soot except for two wide, terrified eyes. She hold a teddy bear, and her breaths hiccuping in little gasps.


    He kneeled beside her and smiled reassuringly. "Hey kiddo," he said, his hands carefully inspecting her arms. "You''ve got a brave face there. Let''s get you a bed, some medicine, and perhaps a popsicle if you''re lucky."


    The girl sniffled but nodded, knowing she was in good hands.


    Suddenly, a scene grabbed Elias'' attention like a hook to his gut. A gurney passed by, carrying a little boy no older than eight, his body quivering, and his breath came in fast, shallow gasps.


    A sharp piece of glass protruded from his little abdomen. Blood oozed through his ripped clothes and spilled across the linens. He gripped the nurse''s hand, fingers sticky with his own blood, mouth quivering but no sound came out.


    Elias'' pulse quickened. It was a miracle that the boy was still conscious.


    He sprung into action. "Trauma Bay 3!!!" His voice sliced through the noise. He stepped alongside the gurney, his gaze fixed on the protruding glass.


    He turned to a nurse. "Page the pediatric surgeon, tell him that we have a profound abdominal impalement with likely multi-organ involvement. We need an OR prepped yesterday!"


    The nurse nodded and hurried away.


    Elias kept up with the team, his hand already hovering over the boy, desperate to do something¡ªanything¡ªto keep him alive.

 The Fading Light

    To what degree can one genuinely alter the trajectory dictated by unseen forces that appear to preordain a person''s life path?


    Could his skill actually provide the young boy with an opportunity he would not have had otherwise?


    That question lingered on the edge of his consciousness. Regardless of fate or destiny, his hands were the boy''s best hope.


    The little boy''s parents walked behind the gurney, their movements unsteady, as if the weight of fear had sapped their power. Soot streaked their faces combining tear tracks that pierced through the muck.


    The mother gripped her husband''s arm as if he was the only thing that holding her up. She was sobbing hard, but her gaze never strayed from her son.


    "Tommy! Stay with us son. Please..." She kept repeating it, as if she said it enough times, the universe would listen to her.


    Elias assessed over the wound. The jagged piece glass punctured the boy''s abdomen right below his navel, it''s edges wet with blood. The skin around it had tightened, and the muscles stiffened.


    He carefully pressed on the wound, and the boy let out a harsh choked moan. His tummy was as rigid as a stone. Internal bleeding, not good. Elias exhaled. We don''t have much time.


    "Tommy, can you hear me?" Elias leaned in, his voice steady but tinged with urgency.


    Tommy''s eyes blinked, struggling against the weight of exhaustion. His watery eyes briefly focused on Elias before wandering aimlessly. His lips opened, letting out a shaky breath before uttering a single word.


    "Hurts..."


    "I know it hurts, buddy," He muttered gently. "We''ll take care of you. We''re going to make it stop."


    He looked at the parents who were transfixed at the edge of the bay. Elias swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking quietly but firmly.


    "We''re going to do anything we can," he promised. "But we need to get him into surgery now."


    He didn''t wait for an answer. No...there was no time.


    Tommy was prepped and ready, his little body dwarfed by the wide expanse of the operating table. the surgical team, dressed in blue scrubs and masks, moved like a well-rehearsed orchestra. Elias stood at the heart of it all. His fingers curled around the scalpel. His eyes we''re fixed on the boy''s frail frame, so little, so still.


    The room was quiet, except for the monitor''s steady beeping and the team murmurs of confirmation. Focus. There''s no space for error. He took a final breath and lowered his scalpel.


    Elias made the initial incision, his blade cutting smoothly through skin and muscle as he navigated around the embedded glass. Tommy''s abdomen was a battlefield beneath the surface, with ripped veins, punctured tissue, and blood pooling in every crevice.


    BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...


    The monitor let out a harsh, relentless beep.


    "BP''s crashing¡ª70 over 40! Heart rate''s rising, 130 and weak!!" the anesthesiologist exclaimed.


    "Suction!" Elias snapped. The nurse does as instructed.


    He gently and steadily eased the shard of glass loose, revealing the horror underneath. The boy''s liver was shredded, and his small intestine had many punctures.


    "Damn!!" Another surgeon said under his breath. "This kid''s fighting an uphill battle."


    Elias clenched his jaw. Then we''ll make sure he wins.


    "Clamp the bleeder. We start with the liver!" He instructed. His team moved in unison, hands darting in a frenzied sequence of clamping, suturing, and cauterizing.


    But no matter how quickly they worked, Tommy''s body continued to betray them. Blood still oozed where it shouldn''t, and his skin became paler by the second.


    "Dammit...!!" Elias mumbled while tightening his grasp on the needle driver.


    To make matters worse, the monitor let out a shrill warning.


    "He''s not responding to the transfusions!!" The anesthesiologist exclaimed. "BP''s crashing¡ª60 over 30. We''re losing him!!!"


    Elias gritted his teeth. Not yet. Not this kid. "Come on, Tommy..." His voice hardly rose above a whisper, but his hands worked with fresh urgency.


    For the first time in his entire career, Elias was unsure whether he could bring this one back from the edge.


    "He''s crashing!!!" The anesthesiologist said. "No pulse¡ªstarting compression!!"


    Elias'' chest clenched. No... No... Please... "Charge the defibrillator¡ª100 joules!!!"


    The paddles pressed against Tommy''s chest. "Clear!" A jolt passed through him, causing it to shudder before dropping back onto the table.


    The cardiac monitor replied with a harsh flat tone. "Still no rythm," The anesthesiologist muttered, his expression bleak.


    Elias jaw was tensed. "Charge again¡ª150 joules!" His throat hurt as he forced the words out. "Clear!!"


    Another shock, another painful moment of stillness.


    "Come on Tommy..." Elias''s voice cracked, hardly audible now. "Don''t you dare give up on me kid!!"


    He won''t give up. Not now, not ever. "Charge to 200! now!!"


    The defibrillator whined, preparing for what felt like the final, desperate shot. "Clear!!"


    Tommy''s body jerked, then fell back lifeless. The monitors flatline droned on, a sound Elias had not yet ready to accept.


    The anesthesiologist let out a faint, dejected breath. "No response..." his shoulders dropped as he looked at the clock. "Time of death, 1:32 AM."


    Elias did not move. His hands still hovered over the boy''s chest, as if urging his heart to restart. But...there was nothing. No miracles. No second chances. Just silence.


    The room was eerily silent, the beeping of the heart monitor replaced with an uninterrupted, empty tone. The surgical team remained still, their eyes concealed by masks. A scrub nurse gradually lowered her head. Another started disassembling the surgical equipment, her gestures listless.


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    Elias wouldn''t let it sink in. He yelled, "Again!!!" His voice was rough. "Charge it again!!!"


    "Elias..." Dr. Ramirez, his best friend, walked forward, his voice low and measured. He put a firm yet gentle hand on Elias'' arm. "He''s gone..."


    "No!!!" Elias yanked away. "He''s not gone!" His hands pressed against Tommy''s chest, making frenzied compressions. He can''t be...he can''t.


    Dr. Ramirez''s fingers wrapped around his wrist, firm and unyielding. "Elias. Stop," he said softly, his voice cracked at the edges. "We did everything we could."


    "No!" Elias'' voice cracked as he shook his head. His breath came in jagged gasps, but he persisted. His hands pressing down repeatedly, driving life back to Tommy''s still chest. One... two... three... four...


    "Elias..." Dr. Ramirez''s voice was soft and almost pleading. "Please...it''s over, he''s gone..."


    But Elias could barely hear him. The universe had shrunk to the tiny, lifeless figure beneath his palms. His ears rang. His own heartbeat pounded in his skull, a harsh reminder that his was still pumping while Tommy''s had become silent.


    He had never lost a patient at the table. Never. He wasn''t going to start now. Not with this boy. Not with Tommy. He''d promised...


    Please... just one more compression. One more chance.


    Dr. Ramirez''s arm stays around Elias, a firm but silent plea to go away. "Let go, Elias," Ramirez said softly. "He''s at peace now..."


    Elias tensed, and felt a shudder pass through his body before slumping against his colleague, as if the fight had been pulled from his bones. His breath caught, and then the sobbing poured, raw and unrestrained.


    "He''s gone." The words barely made it past his raspy, empty voice. "He''s gone..."


    The OR, once alive with activity and purpose, felt strangely still. The overhead lights produced bright reflections on the metal equipment, yet their typical gleam appeared dimmed.


    Around him, the surgical team moved slowly and defeatedly. A scrub nurse''s shoulders fell as she removed her gloves. The monitor''s flatline drone blended with the distant hum of unused equipment.


    Tommy lay on the table, covered in white, the sheet smooth and final. The silence was terrible.


    "We need to talk to the parents." Dr. Ramirez voice was soft but heavy with unspoken pain.


    Elias gulped hard. The words felt like a punch to his gut. He had stood before them hours earlier, promising he would do anything for their son. He had seen the desperate hope in their eyes, and felt the weight of their confidence fall on him. But now...


    "I''ll go with you..." Dr. Ramirez offered. His expression firm and understanding.


    Elias shook his head. "No." The word came out harshly, just above a whisper. "This...this is my responsibility."


    In a few seconds, he''d walk into that waiting room and see Tommy''s parents face crumble. He would be the one who broke them. But there was no avoiding it. He squared his shoulders and pushed his feet forwards.


    Elias stepped out of the Operating Room, exhaustion weighing heavily on his limbs. The ordinary that had powered him through the operation had run out.


    He found Tommy''s parents sat stiffly in the waiting area, their hands clasped in a silent prayer, a sight that he rarely encountered these days. When they saw him, they shot to their feet and searched his face, imploring and bracing.


    Elias tried to speak, but his throat tightened.


    He swallowed, forcing himself to meet their gaze.


    Nothing. Words did not come.


    His fingers clenched into a fist by his side. He only managed a tiny shake of his head. That was enough confirmation.


    The mother''s loud gasp pierced the silence like a blade, harsh and sharp. She stumbled back, her shaking hands covering her lips.


    "No..." The word barely left her lips, a frail whisper, before it shattered into an agonizing cry. "No... Tell me this is not true doctor. Tell me he''s okay... Please!!"


    Elias forced himself to look her in the eyes. He gulped heavily. "I''m so sorry..." His voice was faint and scratchy. "We did everything we could, but..."


    The words remained on his tongue. He did not need to finish it. The reality was already present, thick and stifling, pressing against the silence.


    "NOOOO... TOMMY..." The mother''s raw guttural wail tore through the room.


    The father fell into the chair behind him, his body slumped forward and his shoulders quivering in quiet, gut-wrenching sobs.


    Time blurred as a nurse gently led the mourning parents away. Their sobs drowned out by the antiseptic hum of the ward. Elias could still hear Tommy''s mother''s raw and continuous cry.


    He stayed motionless, his limbs leaden, watching them vanish down the corridor. A hand landed on his shoulder, steady and grounded.


    "Elias." He turned to see Dr. Ramirez looking at him, concern engraved into the deep wrinkles on his face. "You should go home, you''ve been through hell tonight."


    Elias swallowed, despite the constriction in his throat. "There are still patients to see." He grumbled. His voice seemed distant and hollow. "I need to go back to the ER."


    Ramirez strengthened his hold, pinning him. "The ER is covered, we have enough hands." He sighed and studied Elias. "My friend, you are running on fumes. Grief does not simply go just because you bury yourself in work."


    Elias forced out a breath that seemed more like a shiver. He knew Ramirez was right, his body was hurt, his mind was sluggish, and behind the exhaustion, a hollow pit of guild gnawed at him.


    Ramirez demeanor softened but his tone remained stern. "Go home, Elias. That is an order, not a suggestion."


    Elias met his eyes, hoping for an argument or an excuse, but only found steadfast confidence. He gave a slow, defeated sigh. "Yeah...okay."


    He turned and walk away, his steps long and deliberate. The hospital corridors stretched ahead, sterile and unending. Sounds of footsteps and voices around did not reach him. Nurses exchanged worrisome looks as he passed, but he did not acknowledge them. He could barely feel the fabric of his scrubs sticking to his skin.


    The Hospital door swing open with a quiet whoosh, and the city embraced him with its usual frantic energy. Even this late at night, New York City refused to sleep.


    Cars honked at the distance, streetlights cast a dreary yellow glow on the sidewalk, and a saxophone played a lonely tune. The hum of the city usually ground him, but tonight it was just distant and hollow sounds.


    His feet moved on their own, taking him past neon-lit storefronts and shadowed alleys. Central Park loomed ahead, its trees swinged by the night breeze.


    It wasn''t until the cold bench pierced his scrubs that he realized where he was. Park Avenue stretched before him, alive with motion¡ªbusinessmen loosening their ties from their late-night drink, couples laughing as they strolled past, and cabs honking at the unconcerned jaywalkers.


    He slumped forward, elbows sinking into his knees and fingers entwined in his hair. His thoughts replayed the day incessantly. Blood-stained gloves, the flatline screech of the heart monitor, and a mother''s cries piercing through the hospital walls.


    Normally, he would have noticed the uneven paving stone beneath his feet, the distant siren''s screaming, and the slight shift in wind direction when a train rumbled underground. Tonight, even the bench felt remote, as if he were looking at the city through a thick pane of glass. The smell of exhaust and hot dogs, a familiar comfort, was only a dull ache in his nose.


    It was only then that he became aware of the approaching figure¡ª


    "Mind if I join you?" The voice, warm and smooth like his favorite melody.


    He looked up.


    A man stood alongside the bench with his hands buried into pockets of a well-worn leather jacket. His slender form exuded an natural ease, a presence that somehow managed to hold attention without even asking for it. His sandy-blond hair was artistically unkempt, as if he was just rolled out of bed or had spent the evening ruminating on it.


    But it was his eyes that made Elias pause.


    Gold, rich and sparkling, with flecks of molten amber¡ªas if sunlight were imprisoned in a glass. They had a soft glow that suggested something deeper, a warmth that didn''t belong in the cool evening air.


    The man could have been any other New Yorker in his worn blue T-shirt and jeans, blending in with the city''s never-ending beat. But there was something else¡ªa slight bit definite energy, as if the space surrounding him was just a little brighter, and the shadows were unwilling to cling to him.


    Elias simply shrugged, still lost in his own thoughts.


    The man lowered himself next to Elias, leaving just enough space to be courteous but not too far. At first, neither of them talked, leaving the stillness to be filled by the City restless energy.


    After a minute, the man tilted his head, his golden eyes warm and piercing. "Rough day?"


    Elias let out a breath through his nose that was too phony to be genuine yet was almost a laugh. "You could say that."


    "Name''s Leo." The man offered his hand.


    Elias hesitated, then took the offered hand, his grip slack and almost reluctant. "Elias."


    "Nice to meet you Elias," Leo remarked, his smile warm and unwavering.


    He reclined back and stretched his legs, as if preparing for a long chat. "Sometimes, just sitting and watching the world move around you helps, don''t you think?"


    Elias gave him no answer.


    Leo breathed and tilted his head to the night sky. "it''s funny," he said. "Even the sun, the brightest star in our sky, has moments when it dims. Sunset, eclipse... moments when it''s radiance fade."


    He looked at Elias, his eyes glinting with something more than casual thoughts. "But there is a beauty in it, too. When the sun sets, the other lights have an opportunity to shine. The stars arise, and the world recalls the quiet elegance of shadows and lights."


    Something flared at the back of Elias'' consciousness, and he knitted his brows in a frown¡ªrecognition? D¨¦j¨¤ vu?. Leo''s remarks were too accurate; they seemed to fit right in with the gaps in his mind. There was something uncanny about the way he talked, the way his analogies flowed naturally into the discourse.


    "I suppose..." Elias mumbled, barely louder than the murmur of the city.


    Leo smiled¡ªnot the polite, surface-level grin that people used in short talk, but something warmer, something that... recognize him.


    "It''s okay not to be okay, Elias," he said. His voice low and steady. "It''s okay to feel the weight of everything. To sit in the dark for a time. It merely means you are human."


    Elias finally looked at Leo¡ªreally looked at him. His golden eyes seemed to shine with an ethereal quality. There was something about the way he carried himself, a gentle confidence that felt both strange yet familiar. His lips curved at the edges, not quite a grin or a smile, but enough to suggest that he knew something Elias didn''t.


    "Who are you?" Elias spoke before he realized he was doing so.


    It was more than just a curiosity; it was a demand, a plea, as if the answer would reveal something hidden deep within him.


    Leo maintained his smile. if anything, it deepened, his eyes glinting with something incomprehensible.


    "Just a friend," he said, his voice soft and leisurely. "Just a friend who understands."


    The words should have frustrated him. It was vague, taunting, and dissapointing. But Elias felt a weird sense of calm. His shoulders relaxed, and the knot in his chest ease slightly. He wasn''t sure why, but something about Leo''s presence made him feel seen in a way he hadn''t in years. Perhaps ever.


    They remained silent once more. Elias made an effort to contemplate Leo''s words about the beauty of dimming.


    "You said... even the sun has its moments of fading," Elias mumbled finally. His voice cautious, as if testing the thought on his tongue. "But it always returns, right? It doesn''t simply vanish; it regains its strength."


    "It does," he answered. "However, it''s not always easy to find that brightness again. Sometimes it takes a journey."


    "A journey?" Elias elaborates.


    Leo inclined his head slightly, as if weighing his next words. "Sometimes, it needs a little help."


    Elias frowned again, there was something more to those words¡ªsomething personal. Something meant for him.


    "What kind of help?" he asked.


    Leo''s smile widened, mischievous yet knowing. "That depends," he said. "Sometimes it''s a helpful hands. Sometimes it''s a listening ear. And sometimes, it''s a reminder¡ªof the inner strength that can pull you out of the darkness."


    Elias searched Leo''s face, noting his easy confidence and the eyes that appeared to stare through him rather than at him.


    "Why are you telling me this? Why do you care?" he asked.


    Leo''s eyes softened, and for a moment, they were filled with understanding rather than friendliness. A level of compassion that felt almost too much, too knowledgeable, as if he had witnessed everything Elias had been through, every sorrow, every loss.


    "Because everyone deserves to find their light, Elias," he added, his voice calm but confident. "Especially those who spend their lives bringing light to others."


    The remarks struck a chord with Elias, reflecting his calling as a healer and his strong empathy for his patients. However, they also hinted at something beyond, something beyond his comprehension of himself and his purpose.


    Before Elias could inquire further, Leo stood, his movements smooth and effortless, as if he had never experienced doubt.


    "I have to go," he murmured, putting his hands in his pockets. "But I have a feeling we''ll meet again."


    Elias felt a peculiar sense of anxiousness in his chest. He stood, too. "Wait¡ª" The question came out before he could stop it. "Who are you? Really?"


    Leo paused mid-step and turned just enough to look over his shoulder, mischief evident behind those golden eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.


    "Let''s just say," he mumbled, "I admire your work. And I believe you have a bigger role to play than you realize."


    Then, with a wink and one final enigmatic smile, he vanished into the crowd, swallowed by the city''s rhythm, leaving Elias standing there¡ªalone, restless, and with more questions than answers.

 Fractured Reflection

    The fluorescent lights at Mount Sinai Hospital buzzed like an overworked intern high on bad coffee and regret. Outside, New York was alive, but inside, time moved slowly.


    Two weeks have passed since the fire. Since he lost Tommy. Since that strange encounter with the man who called himself Leo¡ªor whatever his true name was. In those two weeks, Elias had become more of a ghost than a man, drifting around the hospital corridors like a lost spirit dressed in scrubs.


    His once-chiseled jawline had succumbed to exhaustion, with a touch of stubble coming in as if it had given up on him. The black circles under his eyes had deepened. If someone mistook him for one of his own patients, he would not blame them.


    Elias went about his days like a well-oiled machine¡ªefficient, precise, and just distant enough to feel like someone had replaced his heart for a to-do list. His hands continued to work their magic in the OR, but the spark that had once filled his blue eyes had faded to a dull glow.


    At six feet tall, he used to walk with the ease of someone who knew he could save lives. Now, his shoulders sank just enough to suggest that gravity somehow had gotten heavier.


    Elias had perfected the art of avoiding personal talks. A stiff nod here, a faint grunt there¡ªenough to give the impression he was listening while keeping others at arm''s length.


    Concerned coworkers attempted to check on him, only to be met with carefully timed coffee sips or sudden, intense interest in a blank wall.


    Lunch was no different. He sat alone, stabbing at his food as if it had personally angered him. His slender, strong build promised discipline and control, but his hollow-eyed stare at the cafeteria window revealed a different story¡ªone of exhaustion, of someone trying to outthink his own regrets.


    ¡°Dr. Carter, are you okay? You seem¡­ off.¡±


    A young resident, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and foolish enough to question a senior doctor before his second coffee, looked at Elias with genuine concern.


    Elias forced a smile. At the very least, there was once a smile. It was more of an unpleasant grimace now, the kind you do when someone waves at you, but they were actually waving at the person behind you. "Just tired," he mumbled. "Long night."


    That was not a lie. However, that was not the complete truth either. Tired didn''t quite cut it¡ªbone-deep tiredness, emotional drain, and an existential crisis thrown in for good measure seemed more appropriate.


    The resident hesitated, most likely pondering whether to push further, before wisely deciding against it. "Alright then," he muttered with a tight nod before running away.


    Later that day, an itch under his skin made it impossible for Elias to sit still. He told himself he was only checking in and assisting where needed¡ªbut he wasn''t fooling anyone. It was not duty that drew him to the ER. It was the desire to act, to silence the nagging voices in his head that kept talking about what-ifs and near-misses.


    When he stepped inside, chaos struck him like a wild IV pole. The ER has always been a circus, but what about tonight? It appeared that the tent had been set on fire.


    Doctors maneuvered between gurneys like overworked acrobats, nurses barking orders like seasoned ringmasters, and the patients¡ªwell, they were the real show.


    A man with a broken nose was shouting at another man with a similar injury, and both were being held back by irritated orderlies.


    Another was gripping their arm as if it was about to come off, and another patient in the corner exclaimed, "I swear, I''m dying!" despite sitting upright and scrolling through their phone.


    It wasn''t just the normal flu outbreaks and culinary mishaps. The night had an edge to it¡ªa sharpness in the air, a pattern in the injuries that made Elias'' stomach knot. Fights, assaults, and a bar brawl reminiscent of an action film. Even domestic disputes were bloodier than normal.


    Elias sidestepped a hobbling patient and turned to a stressed nurse who appeared to be two shifts past her limit. "Is there a full moon tonight, or did we accidentally open a portal to the Underworld?"


    She grunted and adjusted her spectacles. "Honestly? I''d rather deal with demons than this. At least they have rules."


    Since when did his world become so chaotic?


    As if reading his mind, the nurse sighed and rubbed her exhausted face with her hand. "Doctor, it''s been like this for a week. And it''s growing worse. People are snapping over trivial matters¡ªlike we''re all one wrong look away from a riot."


    Before Elias could respond, a gurney passed by, carrying a young guy with a split lip, a swollen eye, and the definite appearance of having recently lost a battle. Blood crusted around his nose, and despite his obvious suffering, his look could melt steel.


    Elias raised an eyebrow. ¡°Another fight?¡±


    The nurse snorted. "Yep. "Some guy just lost it, started screaming at him in the street, and bam!¡ªwent full gladiator on him."


    Elias was at a loss. "Did he say what started it?"


    The nurse shrugged. "I think he sneezed too loud."


    Elias pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. So now we''re fighting over air."


    She gently patted his arm. "Welcome to the apocalypse, Doctor."


    "Do... not... jinx... it." He exclaimed.


    Elias weaved across the emergency room, patching up wounds and trying not to trip over agitated nurses or rolling gurneys. His hands moved on autopilot, stitching, bandaging, and keeping people alive¡ªeven if he felt like he couldn''t keep himself together.


    At one of the bays, a young woman grimaced as he tightened the final thread on a deep gash on her forearm.


    "You''re lucky," he stated, severing the last thread with a clean snip. "Another inch deeper, and you''d have gotten a free anatomy lesson."


    Sarah, a college student with sleepy eyes and a uniform that said part-time work, took a nervous breath. "Yeah, well, I almost got one anyway. When I refused to give up my bag to a jerk, he gave me this instead."


    Her hands trembled as she flexed her fingers and tested the stitches. "Things are getting weird out there, Doc. I don''t even feel safe walking home now."


    Elias sighed and carefully placed a bandage over the wound. "Welcome to the jungle," he replied dryly. "Where the predators don''t even wait for nightfall."


    Sarah managed a weak laugh. "Great. So, should I start carrying a sword?


    "Only if you know how to use one," he joked, then softened. "Be careful, alright? Pay attention to your surroundings. Perhaps invest in a stupidly loud whistle."


    He took a step back, taking off his gloves as she flexed her fingers again. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "Will I at least get a cool scar?" she asked.


    Elias smirked. "That depends¡ªdo you want the ''I fought off a mugger'' or ''I tripped on a sidewalk and landed on glass'' scar?"


    "Definitely the first one," she grinned.


    "Good choice."


    He then moved on, because at this ER, the next disaster was always just a heartbeat away.


    A middle-aged man sat, scowling like he''d just discovered his lottery ticket was one number off. Dried blood stained his arm, and his shirt had a nice bullet hole at the shoulder¡ªfortunately, no matching hole in him.


    "Lucky guy," Elias commented while assessing the wound. "Bullet just grazed you."


    ¡°Yeah, tell that to my shoulder,¡± Mr. Henderson grumbled, flinching as Elias dabbed at the torn skin with antiseptic. ¡°Wrong place at the wrong time.¡±


    "Well," Elias remarked, raising his brow, "judging from the exit wound on your shirt, I''d say the bullet disagreed and attempted to take you with it.


    Mr. Henderson gave a bitter, humorless grunt, "And I thought getting shot was the worst part of my day..."


    Elias smirked. "Consider it part of the treatment."


    Later, in the break room, Elias sank into a chair and held a cup of coffee that had changed from nearly unfit for human consumption to likely a biohazard in the time it took him to sit down.


    Across from him, Nurse Jenny¡ªveteran, unshakeable, and driven solely by caffeine and pure willpower¡ªpoured herself a fresh cup with the slow, deliberate movements of someone on fumes.


    "You noticed it too, huh, Dr. Carter?" She spoke with a tone that was something between fatigue and humor.


    "Hard to miss," Elias mumbled, rubbing his temples before taking a drink of his pathetic coffee. Lukewarm. Bitter. Exactly like his soul at this time. "It''s not simply the number of cases; it''s the intensity. Everyone is either outraged or on the verge of a meltdown."


    Jenny snorted into her cup. "It''s as if the entire city woke up on the wrong side of the bed and chose to throw hands. I witnessed a man earlier try to strike an orderly for looking at him too kindly." She shakes her head. "Twenty years in the ER, and this is a first."


    Elias exhaled and let his head lightly thump against the back of his chair. "Great. So we''re either in the thick of some type of full-moon nonsense or the world''s worst anger management seminar."


    Jenny raised her cup in mock salute. "Either way, I hope whatever''s causing it takes a damn day off."


    Elias clinked his cup against hers. Fat chance.


    Their momentary relaxation ended as Dr. Ramirez stormed in, looking as if he had just swallowed a lemon.


    ¡°We got a call,¡± he announced, his voice tight. ¡°Multiple stab wounds from a bar fight downtown. They¡¯re on their way.¡±


    The words hit like a defibrillator shock. The break room, formerly a haven of lukewarm coffee and tired sighs, came to life. Jenny sighed, immediately downing the last of her glass as if it were liquid courage.


    "Why is it always a bar fight?" she grumbled.


    Elias smirked as they hustled out. ¡°Alcohol, bad decisions, and an overinflated sense of masculinity. Classic recipe for disaster.¡±


    They flooded into the corridor, white coats flaring behind them like capes as the distant sound of sirens got closer. The sound ripped at Elias'' nerves, a foreshadowing of impending calamity.


    He ignored his own exhaustion¡ªno time for that now. Lives were going to be placed on their doorstep, and he had work to do.


    "Here we go again," he said quietly, rolling his shoulders. "Another night in paradise."


    Jenny snorted. ¡°You say that like you don¡¯t love it.¡±


    Elias only grinned. Maybe he did.


    The ER''s double doors burst open like a dramatic entrance in a medical soap opera, and commotion erupted just as expected. The first gurney rolled by, carrying a young man whose blood-soaked shirt clung to him like a bad decision. His face twisted in despair, his eyes darting wildly¡ªpart from torment, part from whatever dumb choices had led him here.


    Two more followed, each providing a fresh exhibit in the anatomy lesson of Why You Shouldn''t Start a Bar Fight.


    Dr. Ramirez hardly looked at the first patient before yelling, "Multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen! He''s in hemorrhagic shock¡ªOR One right now!!" His voice had the crisp authority of a man who has witnessed far too many bar brawls end in stabbings.


    Elias moved to the second patient, a woman in her early thirties whose breath came in short, ragged gasps. He recognized the problem when he looked at her leg: blood was gushing from a deep laceration in her thigh, in sync with her frightened heartbeat. Great. An arterial bleed.


    "Alright, let''s get some pressure on this before we repaint the floors," Elias replied, placing gauze firmly against the wound. The woman winced, grasping the gurney''s edge.


    "Do you think the other guy looks worse?" he questioned, looking to the stab victim who was being rushed away. "You should see him."


    She exhaled weakly, half laughing and half in pain. Good. If she had the strength to roll her eyes at him, she still had some fighting spirit.


    "Get her typed and crossed for a transfusion," Elias instructed, his voice firm even as his scrubs stained by yet another set of bloodstains.


    Nurse Jenny was immediately on the case, cinching a tourniquet around the woman''s thigh with the efficiency of someone who had done this too many times to count. "Got it, Doctor," she responded, yanking the strap with practiced force.


    "Good. Let''s move to trauma bay two!!" Elias instructed, pressing harder on the wound to stem the bleeding. "And please contact vascular surgery! Unless we want to play a fun game of ''Guess Which Artery Needs Fixing.''"


    As they wheeled the woman away, Elias focused his attention on the final patient, a young man just out of his teens sitting on a stretcher with wide, watery eyes. His shoulder bore a stab wound, but compared to the others, he appeared more scared than stabbed.


    Dr. Lee, a young resident with the energy of someone who still believed in work-life balance, stepped forward. "I''ve got this one," he responded, pulling up his sleeves as if challenging the wound to a duel.


    "Good," Elias replied, nodding. "Clean, irrigate, and take an X-ray. "Make sure the knife did not nick any bones." He began to turn away, but then looked back. "And if he starts hyperventilating, just remind him that at least he''s not the guy in OR One."


    The young man blinked. "Wait¡ªwhat happened to the guy in OR One?"


    Elias sighed. "You don''t wanna know, kid."


    Dr. Lee placed a soothing hand on the patient''s good shoulder. "Let''s just say, you received the deluxe stabbing package. Not the premium one."


    The kid groaned. ¡°I knew I should¡¯ve just stayed home.¡±


    Elias turned his attention back to the woman who had an arterial bleed. Her medical bracelet read Maria, and she was in no state to introduce herself.


    Her eyelids flickered, unfocused, and her breaths came in short, irregular pants. Her skin had taken on an unpleasant grayish pallor that he was all too familiar with¡ªlike a phone operating on 1% power with no charger around.


    Oh no... not on his watch.


    "Maria," he said, his voice firm despite the pandemonium all around them. ¡°Hey, I need you to stay with me, okay? No passing out, no fading into the light, none of that.¡±


    No response. Her pulse beneath his fingers was feeble, skipping beats like an unreliable Wi-Fi connection.


    Elias pressed harder against the injury, his hands wet with blood. Come on. He could feel her slipping, fear pressing against her ribs like a closing fist. He inhaled through his nose to steady himself. It''s time to be the anchor.


    He leaned in slightly and spoke in a quiet, soothing tone. ¡°Listen, Maria, I know this sucks¡ªI get it. But you¡¯re a fighter. I can tell. You survived whatever bar fight-from-hell this was, so you¡¯re not going out like this.¡±


    His lips quirked. "You don''t seem like the type to let some idiot with a broken bottle take you down."


    Her fingers twitched slightly, a barely noticeable but adequate response.


    "See? "That''s the spirit," he muttered, pressing the gauze firmly on her wound. "You keep fighting, and I''ll handle the rest. Deal?"


    A shallow, rasping breath. Another flash of movement.


    "That''s it, Maria," he said softly, his voice as firm as his hands. "You''re doing well. Just continue breathing. No sudden moves, no theatrical monologues¡ªwe''ll reserve those for later."


    Her fingers twitched in his grip. A slight pinch. He interpreted it as a positive indication.


    He continued to speak in a light, casual tone, as if they were discussing weekend plans rather than her immediate survival. He explained what he was doing in words she could understand, rather than the dry, technical jargon that made medical students sweat.


    "Alright, I''m applying pressure here¡ªnot great for comfort, but great for preventing bleeding. And in a moment, we''ll take you to surgery, where the true magic occurs. You''ll be fine, okay?"


    He gave her hand another strong grip, like an anchor in the midst of her anguish and dread.


    By the time the surgical team came, Maria was stable enough to be taken away. Her eyelids flickered open as they started to move her. For the first time, her eyes found him¡ªtruly found him.


    "Doctor¡­" she rasped.


    Elias leaned closer, expecting deep gratitude, perhaps a tearful thank you.


    Instead, she squinted. "You''ve got blood¡­ like, everywhere."


    Elias looked down at his scrubs, which had turned crimson rather than blue. He sighed. "Yeah, it''s a look. Not a good one, but still a look."


    She sent out a breathy, faint chuckle as they wheeled her away. He smirked. She''ll be alright.


    The operating room''s bright, clean lights banished the commotion of the ER, leaving only the calm, controlled buzz of professionals at work. There were no wild cries or speeding gurneys here; everything was measured and exact.


    Elias, scrubbed and gowned, stood over Maria, his attention drawn to the wound in front of him. Doubts, tiredness, and even the stubborn recollection of a coffee he never liked drifted away. Here, his hands understood exactly what to do.


    ¡°Vitals?¡± he asked without looking up.


    "Stable," the anesthesiologist, Dr. Chen, remarked. "BP 110 over 70, heart rate 90, regular. She''s holding steady."


    "Well, at least someone''s stable tonight," Elias mumbled.


    Dr. Singh, a vascular surgeon with decades of experience and the kind of unwavering calm normally reserved for monks and bomb disposal professionals, stood beside him and examined the wound. "Nasty laceration," he commented, tilting his head. "But clean. Shouldn''t be too difficult to fix."


    "Let''s hope so," Elias answered, examining the damage. Blood loss remained a problem, and Maria''s body had already contributed more than its fair share to the ER floor.


    "Speaking of headaches, anyone else smell burnt toast, or am I finally having that stroke I keep warning my interns about?" Dr. Singh quipped.


    Dr. Chen sighed. ¡°That¡¯s the cautery, Singh.¡±


    Elias smirked under his mask. "Focus, gentlemen. We''re here to save lives, not diagnose your coming medical emergency."


    Singh chuckled but nodded. "Okay, Carter. Let''s make it look easy."


    Elias and Dr. Singh moved in perfect sync, a two-person orchestra of scalpels and sutures. No wasted movements or words. All it takes is a continuous, precise dance of trained hands to keep a human body fighting.


    "Clamping the artery," Elias said calmly, despite the blood pooling beneath his gloves.


    "Bleeding controlled," Dr. Singh stated, immediately preparing the suture.


    Elias barely nodded, his concentration fixed. The torn artery lay in front of him, a delicate thread between life and death, and it was their responsibility to repair it. There is no pressure. Just another night of keep-the-patient-alive.


    Maria lingered on the brink of consciousness beneath the anesthesia, like a flickering candle amid a storm. Elias could sense it: the delicate thread of her presence. He wasn''t a god or a miracle worker, despite what some nurses joked about, but he was capable of doing this. He could pull her back.


    He clinched his jaw and focused harder, willing her to hold on.


    Not this time. Not again.


    He refused to let Maria suffer the same fate as Tommy.


    "Hey," Dr. Singh''s voice broke the tension. "You planning to stare the artery back together, or are you actually going to suture it?"


    Elias blinked and exhaled, shrugging off the memories that clung at the corners of his memory.


    "Right, sorry. Just manifesting good vibes," he said as he began the sutures.


    "Uh-huh," Singh deadpanned. "How about manifesting some stitches instead?"


    Elias smirked, and the strain in his chest relaxed somewhat. "On it."


    The monitors stabilized as the final stitch was tied and blood flow restarted. Maria''s delicate flicker flared a bit brighter. Elias exhaled.


    "Artery¡¯s repaired," he declared, snapping his gloves off. "Good flow. No leaks. We can close her up."


    Elias'' hands were moving with the precision of a concert pianist, but he was suturing a human being rather than a piano. Unwavering in his focus, he closed the incision layer by layer.


    ¡°She¡¯s going to make it,¡± he murmured, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.


    ¡°Talking to unconscious patients again, Carter?¡± Dr. Singh grinned.


    Elias shrugged, securing the final stitch. ¡°Hey, they listen better than most people.¡±


    He stepped back, removing his gloves and stretching his stiff shoulders. It was finished. She was stable. For the first time in a long while, something settled inside him.


    Yeah. She was going to be okay. And maybe, just maybe¡­ so was he.

 The Crimson and The Gold

    The adrenaline that had powered Elias through surgery had finally worn off, leaving him feeling like a wrung-out dishcloth¡ªfunctional, but barely.


    As he scrubbed out, exhaustion settled over him like an old, familiar coat, heavy yet oddly comforting. His mind, on the other hand, remained frustratingly awake, replaying the night''s chaos like an unwelcome highlight reel.


    Blood. Anger. Violence that not only broke bones, but also wrecked lives.


    Sarah, a college student who grabbed her purse like a lifeline, scared of walking home alone.


    Mr. Henderson had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he now had a bullet wound to show it.


    The bar brawl had gone from drunken comments to full-fledged knife choreography.


    And Maria.


    He hadn''t just bandaged her wounds; he''d walked her through her dread, softening the edges with soothing reassurances. It wasn''t only the sutures that kept her together; it was knowing that someone saw her and cared that she survived the night.


    Elias exhaled, staring at his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. ¡°Maybe I should start charging for therapy,¡± he muttered. ¡°Or at least get a punch card. ¡®Save five lives, get one existential crisis free.¡¯¡±


    Elias strolled out of the hospital after his shift, the night air cool against his skin, but the weight on his mind was far greater than the exhaustion in his bones. His feet should''ve carried him straight home, where he could take a well-deserved shower and perhaps eat an entire pizza. Instead, they had other plans.


    He strolled deeper onto the Upper East Side, past magnificent brownstones with lit windows that whispered of families sipping champagne and squabbling over takeaway orders. The streets were tranquil, a far cry from the bustle of the emergency room. But, something felt wrong tonight.


    When he arrived at Carl Schurz Park, he noticed that the regular evening joggers and dog walkers were nearly gone. The trees rustled, and the branches threw restless shadows that were a bit too lengthy for comfort.


    Even Gracie Mansion, the mayor''s opulent home, was oddly quiet, as if it was holding its breath.


    His footsteps echoed down East End Avenue, bouncing off the towering townhouses with immaculately manicured hedges and wrought-iron gates that seemed to say, "You don''t belong here, peasant."


    The darkened windows of Brearley School loomed ahead, empty and watchful, like a haunting dollhouse for the exceedingly wealthy.


    Then, just as he was going to blame his discomfort on a lack of sleep, the world paused.


    The harsh white illumination of a streetlamp shimmered, the hues flowing together like spilled oil, transforming into blues and greens¡ªdeep, limitless, oceanic. A salty breeze blew around him, carrying something old and vast. His stomach clenched.


    Not this again.


    Elias blinked hard. The streetlamp was just a streetlamp again, and the wind was nothing more than a random gust. Too much stress, insufficient sleep. He breathed, shrugging off the lingering dream-like sensation.


    "Great," he said to himself as he walked forward. "Now I''m hallucinating in rich-people territory."


    Elias kept walking down the dimly lit street, his head tangled in thoughts, when¡ª


    Thump. Scuffle. Muffled cry.


    He stopped mid-step.


    The sound came from a tight alleyway wedged between two buildings, the type of corridor that seemed ideal for either a shady deal or an overconfident raccoon confrontation. A glimpse of movement in the darkness, another choking sound¡ªhis spine stiffened.


    Nope. Not your problem, Elias. He clinched his jaw. He''d seen enough trouble for a lifetime. Probably just two drunken fools fighting over a kebab. Probably nothing.


    Then, a piercing, anguished cry rang through the air. The kind that made his stomach tighten. The kind that was not probably nothing.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Damn it.


    A familiar voice in his head¡ªthe rational one that typically sounded like an irritated nurse¡ªsighed, "Elias, don''t be a hero."


    But then Maria''s face appeared in his head. Blood. Fear. Heplessness.


    His fingers tightened into fists. He sighed deeply and slowly before turning toward the alley, staring into the inky blackness like a man about to make a terrible decision.


    "Alright," he mumbled under his breath. "If I get stabbed tonight, I''m haunting my own hospital."


    With that, he stepped into the darkness.


    The alley was the type of setting that made Elias reconsider every life decision that had brought him here. Dimly lit, reeking of filth and something strangely metallic¡ªblood. It hung to the air, heavy and distinct, curling in his nostrils as a warning.


    His heart pounded as he moved deeper into the shadows, instincts screaming for him to turn back. Instead, he came just in time to witness a spectacle that typically ends with police tape and terrible news.


    A teenager, little older than sixteen, was pinned against the dingy brick wall, his chest heaving and his eyes wide with fear.


    A man in his mid-thirties pushed forward, his face twisted with wrath. a knife gleaming in his fingers like a promise of pain, embedded in the teen''s belly.


    "No!" Elias barked, his voice echoing off the alley walls like an action hero who hadn''t prepared this far ahead.


    The attacker froze. His head snapped up, and for an odd second, Elias thought he saw something¡ªwrong. The man''s eyes, usually hidden in the alley''s dark shadows, flared red. Not the I''ve had too much to drink kind of red. No. This was deeper, unnatural, like embers glowing in a dying fire.


    Elias barely had time to process before it vanished. Just a normal, rage-filled face glaring at him.


    The man then sprinted, disappearing into the darkness like a low-budget horror villain who understood when to flee.


    Elias did not waste time chasing him. That was for those with badges and poor judgment. Instead, he dashed to the teenager, who was falling down the wall like a deflated balloon.


    "Hey, hey, stay with me!" Elias said, his voice firm yet calm. He knelt beside the youngster and examined the wound¡ªa deep stab right below the ribs, gushing black, sticky blood. Fantastic. Just another night in NYC.


    "I''m a doctor," he immediately added, hoping that the title conveyed enough authority to keep the boy from worrying any further. "I''m going to help you."


    The boy''s wide, pain-glazed eyes fixed on his. "Hurts..." he whispered, scarcely audible.


    "Yeah, I bet," Elias said, pressing hard on the wound with both hands. "But you''re going to be fine." Worst case scenario, you''ll have a cool scar. Chicks dig those, right?"


    The kid let out a feeble, wheezy chuckle¡ªor perhaps it was just his lungs protesting. Either way, Elias grabbed his jacket, balled it up, and pressed it on the wound.


    "What''s your name?" he asked, trying to keep the kid talking.


    "A...Alex," the boy stuttered.


    "Okay, Alex. I need you to hold this tight, as if it owed you money." He directed the boy''s unsteady hands to the makeshift bandage, making sure to keep pressure on it.


    Now it''s time for the cavalry. Elias scrambled for his phone, his fingers covered in blood. He jabbed at the screen, almost FaceTiming his mother instead of calling 911.


    "Come on, come on¡ªyes, operator, hi!" He barely allowed the dispatcher to finish their welcome before blurting out, "I need an ambulance, alleyway off East End Avenue, near 84th Street! Male teenager with a stab wound to the lower abdomen, bleeding profusely, and losing consciousness. I''m a doctor, and I''m applying pressure, but we need to move like yesterday!!!"


    He barely registered the dispatcher''s confirmation before turning back to face Alex, whose grip on the jacket was slipping.


    "Hey, kid," Elias said, snapping his fingers in front of his face. "Stay with me. You don''t want to pass out in the alley. Trust me, it''s gross."


    Alex agreed softly, either with a chuckle or a death rattle. Elias opted to be positive.


    Elias needed to move right now. Standing around like a bewildered intern on their first shift was not an option. His gaze darted across the alley, but unless he intended to patch the kid up with a pile of rotting takeaway containers and a very judgmental-looking rat, he had nothing useful.


    Think, Elias, think!


    His mind raced through years of training before settling on a desperate, last-ditch tactic: pressure points. Risky as hell with an abdominal wound, but at this point, danger was just another term for essential.


    "Alex," he whispered, his voice firm even as his heart pumped. "I''m gonna press down on a spot near your groin, okay?"


    The kid, pale and barely holding on, looked at him. "Dude... what?"


    "It''s not weird, I swear." Elias placed his fingertips over the femoral artery. "It will slow the bleeding. But it''s going to hurt¡ªlet''s just say you''re not going to like it."


    He pressed down hard, searching for the telltale pulse. Alex let out a short gasp as his entire body tensed.


    "Yep, I know, that sucks," Elias muttered, his voice falling into the same tone he used with anxious interns. "But you''re doing well. Okay, just a little longer. Ambulance is on its way. Think about something else¡ªpuppies, pizza, anything but this."


    Alex let out a shaky, half-delirious laugh. "Puppies and pizza¡­"


    Elias swallowed hard, felt the boy''s pulse slow beneath his fingers¡ªan unsettling change. His stomach twisted.


    No. Not today.


    "Come on, Alex," he said, more to himself than to the boy. "Don''t give up. Fight. I am not telling your mother that you walked out in an alley near to a dumpster!"


    Alex''s pulse was slipping between Elias'' fingers, weakening with each beat. His skin was losing warmth, and his little chest hardly rose. Elias felt a chilly feeling of dread wash over him.


    Not again. Not another one. Not on my damn watch!


    "Don''t do this to me, kid!" Elias growled and pressed down harder. His arms hurt and his fingers cramped, but he wasn''t concerned. He was running out of time, and this was not the way the story would end.


    "You got this, Alex," he said softly, his voice tight. "Come on, buddy... Just make it a bit easy for me, okay?" His vision clouded. Damn that. He was too stubborn to cry.


    Then, something shifted.


    His hands were wrapped in a different type of warmth¡ªnot the sticky, sweaty, bloody kind. But comforting. Strong. A steady, warm, and luminous hand clasped over his own.


    Elias froze. His breath hitched.


    Well. That was abnormal, for sure.


    Like morning sunshine slipping through curtains, the golden light curled over Alex''s wound and pulsed softly. Slowly but steadily, it spread, mending ripped flesh and bringing order to the chaos beneath Elias''s hands.


    His brain screeched to a halt.


    Did I finally snap? Is this a stress-induced hallucination? Did I forget to eat?


    The wound hadn''t healed¡ªElias wasn''t so fortunate¡ªbut it wasn''t the gaping, life-threatening disaster it had been seconds before. The bleeding had ceased. The kid was stable.


    Elias''s head snapped around so fast that he nearly got whiplash; his heart pounded in his ears, yet nothing¡ªnothing¡ªcould explain what he was witnessing.


    Leo crouched alongside him, his palm still placed to the wound, fingers steady and warm. A golden glow pulsed beneath his palm, flickering like the final embers of a dying fire.


    Elias blinked... Once... Twice.


    "Leo¡­?" His own words was barely audible in his ears, a frantic whisper of bewilderment. "What the¡ªhow¡ª?"


    Leo just smiled. That same frustrating, enigmatic smile, which had no right to be so calm after breaking every medical and physical law in front of him.


    The glow faded as Leo took his palm away, and the wound beneath magically healed.


    "He''ll live," Leo said, his voice calm and almost delighted, as if healing fatal injuries was simply a normal Tuesday pastime. "The ambulance will be here soon."


    Elias gawked at the fully intact patient, then back at Leo. His brain shut down halfway between holy crap and do I need a CT scan?


    "You..." He pointed an accusing, somewhat unsteady finger toward Leo. "That... That was not normal."


    Leo tilted his head with genuine interest. "Neither is your diet, but I don''t question it."


    Elias groaned. ¡°Oh, great. A miracle worker and a smartass.¡±


    Leo just chuckled.


    The world was officially upside down.

 The Truth Untold

    The sound of sirens pierced the darkness, rising louder until the flashing red and blue lights transformed the dirty alley into a crime scene disco. Tires screamed to a halt, and the ambulance doors flung open.


    Brenda and Carlos, the paramedics, hurried toward them, moving with the efficiency of someone who had done this way to many times before.


    "What do we got?" Brenda inquired, immediately kneeling beside Alex, her sharp gaze scanning him like a human MRI.


    "Stab wound, lower abdomen," Elias explained, still clutching the makeshift bandage. His hands were stable, but his brain? Not so much. His mind kept returning to what he''d just witnessed¡ªLeo''s brilliant glow, the unbelievable healing.


    "He was bleeding out, but, uh¡­it''s slowed down," he tried to answer casually.


    Carlos paused mid-glove snap, his brow raising with surgical precision. "Slowed down?" He bent to examine the wound, frowning. "How?"


    Elias opened his mouth. Then closed. Then opened again. Crap. How do you describe magical first aid?


    "I... uh... used pressure points," he muttered, wincing at how plausible it sounded. "It seemed to¡­ help."


    Brenda and Carlos exchanged glances¡ªthe universal paramedic look for sure, buddy. But, as professionals, they didn''t have time to dispute the nonsense spewing from his tongue.


    "Alright, let''s get him loaded," Brenda murmured, shaking her head as they helped Alex onto the stretcher.


    Carlos chuckled as he fastened the straps. "Hey, Doc, if this whole surgeon thing doesn''t work out, maybe you can open up a pressure point healing clinic."


    Elias laughed softly and rubbed the back of his neck. Yeah. Sure. Right near to the unicorn rehabilitation centre.


    Elias exhaled as the ambulance doors slammed shut and drove off into the night. He''d just witnessed something unthinkable. And now? He had to figure out what it meant.


    Not a second later, two police cars came to a halt, their blue and red lights piercing the darkness. The doors sprang open, and uniformed officers streamed out, their hands hovering near their holsters, their faces set in that familiar not this again grimace.


    Elias stood beside Leo, his pulse pounding against his ribcage.


    "Stay close," Leo said quietly, his amber eyes fixed on the approaching officers like a cat on a very huge, very armed dog.


    A gruff-looking officer walked toward them, his gaze skimming over them with the sharp efficiency of a guy who would not stand for nonsense. "You two see what happened here?" he asked, his tone tight and serious.


    Elias opened his mouth, only for Leo to take a smooth step forward, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that made people instantly want to trust him.


    "We heard a commotion," Leo replied, his voice firm, as if he could persuade a bouncer to let him into a VIP club where he had no business. "We came to see if we could help. We arrived to see the young man already down. We did not see the attacker."


    The officer squinted, as if he was comparing Leo''s statements to a mental checklist of Is This Guy Lying? For a brief period, distrust hung in the air. Then, as if by magic, his shoulders relaxed, his jaw unclenched, and Elias swears the tension in the air had decreased by at least 20%.


    "You a doctor, son?" The officer turned to Elias, his tone less I''m-going-to-arrest-you and more mildly-curious-uncle.


    "Uh... yeah," Elias answered, still catching up on how Leo had just Jedi mind-controlled the guy into relaxing. "I tried to stop the bleeding..."


    "Did what you could," the officer said with a firm nod, as if Elias had just passed a secret cop test. "Alright. Thank you for your help. We''ll take it from here."


    Behind him, other officers were already putting up crime scene tape and directing passersby away with the standard Move along, nothing to see here routine¡ªwhich, of course, only made the onlookers crane their necks more.


    Leo clapped a hand on Elias'' shoulder. "See? That wasn''t too bad."


    Elias walked out of the alley, his mind still reeling and his pulse racing. He cast a peek at Leo, who continued walking beside him as if nothing bizzare had occurred.


    Finally, Elias said, "What the hell was that?" His voice was low but filled with incredulity. "Back there, with the cops and Alex, you did something. You¡ª" He waved his hand vaguely, unable to comprehend the correct words. "Nudged the entire scenario. It''s as if reality swung in your favor. And there''s another thing¡ª"


    Leo smiled, completely unbothered. "I helped."


    "Helped?" Elias repeated, throwing up his hands. "Leo, you Jedi mind-tricked a cop and used the fast-forward button on Alex''s stab wound! That''s not ''helpful''; that''s terrifying!!"


    Leo''s smile twitched, and amusement danced in his eyes.


    Elias raked his hand through his hair, his brain frantically searching for a logical answer and failing badly. "I mean, people don''t do that. Normal people don''t do that. That isn''t how reality works! So I will ask again: who are you?What are you?"


    Leo inclined his head, examining Elias with a knowing yet annoyingly calm expression. "I told you," he murmured softly, almost amused. "I''m a friend."


    Elias laughed incredulously. "A friend? Friends don''t just alter physics, Leo! Friends don''t use Jedi powers to avoid cops and heal people instantly!"


    Leo raised an eyebrow. "Don¡¯t they?"


    Then he turned and began walking away, as if the entire conversation had been a casual talk about the weather.


    Elias stared after him, his frustration boiling over. "Wait¡ªWAIT! You can''t simply do things like that and then walk away! What was that glow? How did you do that? What is going on?!"


    Leo did not break stride. "You ask a lot of questions, doc," he said over his shoulder. "Good thing I like that about you."


    Elias dashed after Leo, his pulse pounding in his ears and frustration twisting up in his chest. Leo, for his part, walked ahead like they were on a leisurely evening walk, hands in his pockets, stance relaxed¡ªas if he hadn''t just thrown Elias'' world into disarray.


    "Would you stop walking away?" Elias snapped, his voice echoing over the virtually deserted walkway. "Speak to me! Explain yourself."This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Leo finally came to a halt, turning just enough for the streetlights to illuminate his face. His demeanor was unreadable¡ªcalm, perhaps even regretful¡ªbut there was something in his eyes, something deep and distant, like a guy looking at the rubble of a house he used to live in.


    "I wish I could explain everything, Elias," he murmured, his voice somber and heavy with something Elias couldn''t identify. "But you won''t believe me. Not yet."


    "Try me," Elias challenged, his jaw tense enough to break a tooth. His hands clinched at his sides, and nails dug into his palms. "I''ve seen things tonight¡­ things that shouldn''t be possible."


    His thoughts turned to Tommy, to the dream that felt too real, and the crimson sparkle in the attacker''s eyes. It wasn''t a coincidence. He knew it was not.


    Across from him, Leo exhaled as if he were pondering whether to deliver a truth bomb or simply walk away and let Elias figure it out for himself.


    "Some truths are too big to take all at once," he finally muttered, stroking his palm down his cheek. "Some doors, once opened, can''t be closed again."


    Elias narrowed his eyes. ¡°What is that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me?¡±


    Leo raised his hands like a guy confronting an angry, very caffeinated grizzly. "No! gods forbid." He made a vague gesture at Elias, as if he were waving at an agitated customer about to fight a barista. "I''m trying to protect you."


    Elias let out a sharp, humorless laugh. ¡°Protect me? From what? The truth?¡±


    Leo hesitated. ¡°Among other things¡­¡±


    Elias crossed his arms. ¡°That¡¯s not ominous at all.¡±


    Leo approached, his golden eyes gleaming like molten metal in the low light. "The truth can be dangerous, Elias," he said quietly, his voice bearing the weight of something certain. "Especially when it challenges everything you think you know."


    Elias folded his arms. "I''m a doctor," he shot back. "I deal with the truth. In facts. In things that are real."


    Leo arched his brow, a slow, knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Are you sure about that?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly. "Or are you just dealing in what you perceive to be real?"


    Elias opened his mouth to argue, then quickly shut it. His mind raced like an overworked MRI scanner. Perceive to be real? What exactly was that supposed to mean?


    His entire profession was based on reality¡ªon biology, on things that could be verified, measured, and demonstrated. And now, standing here, face-to-face with a guy whose eyes literally glowed like a sentient lava lamp, he felt as if the foundation had been pulled out from under him.


    Before Elias could respond, the night split up with a harsh cry of sirens, piercing the tense silence between them. Three police cars drove by, their flashing red and blue lights painting the buildings in frenetic colors. An ambulance followed closely behind, its haste clear.


    The typical New York apathy waned. Pedestrians on the sidewalk slowed, their heads swiveling like spectators at a wild sporting event. Conversations came to a halt, giving way to murmurs of curiosity.


    "Another shooting?" someone muttered.


    "Must be that gang fight in Harlem," another speculated, as if reading from a police report.


    "What is happening to this city?" An elderly woman sighed and clutched her purse as if it contained all the answers.


    Elias exhaled and rubbed his temple. The violence was no longer only an ER issue; it was seeping into every street corner, transforming the city into one gigantic, never-ending trauma ward. Forget Gotham; New York was just five bad nights away from needing its own superhero.


    Leo watched as the emergency vehicles sped past. His jaw was clenched, and his fingers drummed nervously on his arm. He looked like a man watching rain clouds sweep in, resigned to getting soaked.


    Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned to Elias, his expression something between I told you so and we''re all done.


    "It''s starting," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the distant sound of the sirens. "Sooner than I expected."


    Elias'' eyes narrowed. "What''s starting?" His pulse accelerated. "Leo, tell me what you know. And why do you have that expression¡ªlike a guy who just discovered he left the oven on and realized it was too late to turn it off?"


    Leo shook his head, his gaze moving past Elias as if he were watching ghosts parade across the room. "Too much," he whispered. "And not enough."


    Elias groaned, raising his hands. "Great. You''ve become a mysterious fortune cookie. Again." He took a step closer, jabbing his finger at Leo. "How about just once, you say something that makes sense? What did you mean when you said ''It''s starting''?"


    Leo''s lips formed a thin, unmoving line. His eyes, dark with what appeared to be sorrow, shifted to the side¡ªaway from Elias, away from the moment. The weight he was carrying sank into his posture, forcing his shoulders down as if the universe had personally picked him as its reluctant pack mule.


    Elias exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, dude. I appreciate the entire mystery sage act, but I just worked a twelve-hour shift and am out of patience."


    Leo eventually looked at him, and his expression softened¡ªnot with relief, but with a tired comprehension. "I''m a friend, Elias," he responded calmly but firmly. "That''s all you need to know for now."


    He tilted his head, a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "And I swear¡ªthat is the absolute truth."


    Elias opened his mouth, ready to argue or demand explanations, but the words stuck in his throat like peanut butter. Leo''s straightforward assertion, That is the absolute truth, was not empty words. It rang like the sound of a gong inside his head, heavy and absolute. His brain searched for a logical foothold, but everything about this moment was like performing surgery in the dark while wearing oven mitts.


    The truth? What really is the truth? Was it the kind that made sense, or the kind that made you doubt your very existence? Because right now, Elias felt like a man who had been told that gravity was optional.


    A wave of disorientation crashed over him, tipping the world sideways. His knees wobbled like uncooked noodles. He reached out blindly and grabbed the nearest solid object¡ªLeo''s arm.


    Leo didn''t move much. "Easy there, Doc," he replied, his grip firm but unexpectedly kind, as if he was used to catching individuals in the midst of an existential crisis.


    Just as Elias regained his bearings, something made the hairs on his neck stand on end. A girl stood across the street, at the edge of Carl Schurz Park, watching him in the flickering glow of a streetlamp.


    She couldn''t have been older than fifteen, yet something about her made Elias feel like he was the child in this setting.


    She was dressed in a dark gray jacket, the same color as the sky before a storm ruins everyone''s picnic, with the hood thrown back to reveal a long, raven-black braid. Her faded jeans and scuffed boots gave her the impression of any other city teenager¡ªexcept she was too still, too composed, like a statue waiting for someone to blink first.


    Then there were her eyes. A stunning, electric blue, crackling with something sharp¡ªas if she had seen too much and didn''t like what she discovered.


    A stray cat approached her, its tail flickering as it slipped out of the shadows. After a single glance, it stiffened and fled as though it had just offended God and realized its mistake.


    The girl did not flinch. Did not react. She merely kept watching, unconcerned, as if scaring stray animals was part of her nightly ritual.


    The shift in Leo was instant, like flipping a switch. The weariness that had weighted on his shoulders? Gone. The peaceful sadness in his eyes? Vanished.


    Instead, a sly, malicious grin grew across his face, and he was suddenly someone else¡ªsomeone with trouble written all over him. The golden light in his eyes flickered again, not in a blinding display of unexplained power, but in a way that made Elias feel like he was about to witness something extremely irritating.


    Leo shot him a sideways glance that said, Oh, you''re going to love this. Then he turned to face the girl across the street, crossing with a casual, almost languid gait, as though he had encountered an old acquaintance instead of¡ªas Elias had suspected¡ªpotential problems.


    Elias stayed put, watching, completely bewildered. He felt like he had stumbled into the set of a play in the middle of a scene, with everyone else reciting their lines flawlessly while he stood there like an understudy who had clearly not rehearsed.


    Leo let out a chuckle, the kind that bubbled up like he¡¯d just remembered the best joke in the world. He stopped in front of the girl, hands in his pockets, eyes twinkling with pure, unfiltered amusement.


    "Well, well," he said, tilting his head. "Look what the cat dragged in." He smirked, extending his arms in fake greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sis?"


    Elias blinked. Sis?


    The girl''s look remained cut from ice, her electric-blue eyes fixed on Leo with a frost that could have flash-frozen boiling water. There was no amusement, no flicker of interest¡ªjust that harsh, dissecting glance that indicated she found him about as amusing as a tax audit.


    If anything, her gaze sharpened, like a blade being honed. Then, with the accuracy of a sniper, she focused on Elias, mentally categorizing him as helpful or a dead weight. The verdict wasn''t looking good.


    "The others need you," she said, her tone tight and each word sharp enough to break glass. "And you''re here¡­ chatting." She spoke the final phrase with a bitter tone, her lips curving slightly in disdain.


    Leo, unconcerned as ever, smiled wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, in my defense, nobody told me."


    He reached into his pocket and drew out a sleek, futuristic-looking phone, flipping it over in his palms like a magician about to perform a trick. He squinted at the screen before letting out a low whistle.


    ¡°Huh. Would you look at that?¡± He turned the phone toward them, his smirk deepening. ¡°3,268 missed calls. Weird. Must¡¯ve had Do Not Disturb on.¡±


    He scrolled leisurely, nodding as if truly interested. "All of these messages seem to be quite important. ''URGENT.'' ''Where are you?!'' ''WE ARE GOING TO DIE'' Man, people get so worked up about trivial matters."


    Elias sighed, already feeling the migraine forming.


    The girl didn''t sigh, though. She simply exhaled¡ªlong and slow, as if she was recalculating the amount of effort required to toss Leo into the nearest wall.


    Leo turned his gaze back to Elias, and his entire demeanor changed in a single millisecond. The lighthearted smirk evaporated, replaced by a severity so sharp it might sever steel. Elias blinked, his thoughts racing to catch up with the unexpected change.


    "I have to go," Leo whispered, his voice dropping to a low, anxious tone. The golden light in his eyes flared¡ªnot the playful sparkle from before, but something deeper, pulsing with barely containable strength.


    Elias took a step forward, alarms going off in his mind. "Wait! You can''t just throw all this weirdness at me and go! Not now. Not without explaining..."


    Leo raised his hand, cutting him off like a teacher shutting down an especially troublesome kid.


    "Next time, Elias," he murmured, his tone curiously kind yet authoritative, making Elias feel like an important but misinformed pawn in a much larger game. "The next time we meet, I''ll tell you everything. The whole truth."


    He hesitated, his gaze locking onto Elias like he was trying to download a secret message directly into his brain. Nope. Still not psychic.


    "But until then," Leo went on, dropping his voice to almost a whisper, "I need you to do something for me."


    Elias let out a breath. "Of course you do."


    "Open your eyes, Elias. Open your mind."


    Elias frowned. "Pretty sure both are already open¡ª"


    "And listen," Leo said, ignoring him. "Listen to the city. Listen to what it''s trying to tell you. Be open to all possibilities, no matter how implausible they appear."


    Before Elias could respond, Leo reached into his pocket and took out a sleek black car fob. He pushed a button.


    Beep-beep.


    Elias swiveled his head toward the sound, which led to a shining, outrageously brilliant red Bentley Continental GT parked close by. He blinked. A Bentley? this guy?


    Leo grinned like a man who knew exactly how absurd this looked. ¡°Coming, sis?¡± he asked, turning to the girl.


    She didn''t bother using words. She sneered, her bright blue eyes practically blazing with hatred. Then, with the kind of effortless grace that made Elias believe she was floating rather than walking, she turned and disappeared into the park. There are no footsteps. No sound. Just a tiny rustle, as if the trees were whispering a secret. The air remained perfectly still. Okay, that is not normal.


    Leo chuckled as he watched her leave, then returned his gaze to Elias with a casual shrug. "See you around, Doc."


    With that, he slid into the Bentley like he belonged there, the engine growling to life¡ªsmooth, deep, and entirely too smug. Elias could feel the vibrations in his chest; it seemed like the car itself was flexing on him.


    Then, with a leisurely nod, Leo pulled away, his red taillights shining like twin smirks as they drove down the street.

 Contemplation

    Elias stood froozen, his brain feverishly attempting to reboot. His palms still tingled, with phantom warmth lingering where the golden glow had come to life.


    A healing touch? A girl with electric eyes? And Leo''s mysterious remarks about ''listening to the city?'' What was he expected to do, rub his ear against a lamppost and pray for heavenly guidance?


    He took a deep breath and looked around, half expecting the cosmos to send him another sign¡ªperhaps a glowing owl or a celestial billboard reading WELCOME TO THE TWILIGHT ZONE, ELIAS.


    Instead, the only thing moving was a rat dragging a whole slice of pizza into the darkness.


    His legs weren''t exactly cooperating, but at least the city had a sense of time. A yellow cab drove at him, its headlights piercing the night. He lifted his hand on autopilot, and with a screech of brakes¡ªprobably more dramatic than necessary¡ªit came to a halt alongside him.


    The driver peered at him through the window. "You getting in or just standing there like you saw a ghost?"


    Elias blinked. Ghosts would be easier to explain at this point.


    Elias climbed into the backseat, breathing as the cab''s typical musty aroma enveloped him like an old, questionable blanket. It wasn''t comfortable, but after tonight, it seemed weirdly comforting.


    "West 70th, just off Amsterdam," he said, barely recognizing his own voice. It sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. Someone still stuck in that alley, witnessing the unbelievable unfold.


    The cab lurched into motion, weaving through the city¡¯s late-night chaos. Outside, New York flickered past in streaks of neon and shadow. Brearley¡¯s darkened windows loomed like hollow eyes, staring at him in silent judgment. You think you¡¯ve seen everything? they seemed to whisper. Think again.


    Then came the townhouses on East End Avenue, which were grand, manicured, and so immaculate that even their wrought-iron gates were haughty.


    Elias has previously stitched up billionaires, men who could afford entire hospital wings but complained about the co-pay. Tonight, however, wealth was meaningless. No amount of money could justify what he had witnessed.


    The cab turned onto Broadway, and the dazzling lights of the Beacon Theatre assaulted his retinas. Tourists stumbled out, tipsy and laughing, as if the world had not suddenly shifted on its axis.


    Zabar''s flew by next, its typical siren call of fresh bread and smoked salmon scarcely audible. Normally, the notion of a warm bagel caused his stomach to growl. Tonight, he could only taste the metallic tang of blood, both real and impossible.


    He let his head rest on the seat, watching the city go by while his mind remained trapped in that alley. Leo''s words hummed in his head like a song he couldn''t stop hearing:


    "Open your eyes, Elias. Open your mind. Listen to the city¡­ Be open to every possibility, no matter how implausible they appear."


    Elias sighed, running a hand down his face. Right. Sure. I¡¯ll get right on that¡ªjust as soon as I figure out how to un-see a miracle.


    The driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. "Long night, son?"


    "You have no idea."


    The cab lurched to a stop in front of his five-story brownstone, which had once been grand but now appeared to have given up trying. Elias handed the driver some money and left a hefty tip¡ªbecause, hey, at least one person deserved a good night.


    He climbed the familiar steps to his third-floor flat, each creak beneath his feet usually providing a reassuring welcome home. Tonight, they simply sounded like his nerves¡ªuneven and on edge.


    He missed twice when jabbing his key at the lock before eventually opening the door. The apartment welcomed him with its usual orderly chaos¡ªwalls lined with overstuffed bookcases, a sofa that had seen better days, and a TV that only function was to collect dust. Cozy. Cramped. Home.


    His keys clattered on the table, breaking the silence¡ªjust as a scent struck him in the face. Coppery. Thick. Wrong.


    He looked down. Oh. His jacket and hands were coated in dried blood. Alex''s blood.


    ¡°Fantastic,¡± he muttered.


    He sighs and trudges to the bathroom. The mirror reflected a man who appeared to have been in a horror film, but there had been no makeup crew involved.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He turned on the faucet and dipped his hands into the stream. The water ran cold, then warm, then¡­ pink.


    He scrubbed. And scrubbed. And scrubbed.


    Soap and blood mixed into a foamy swirl that spiraled down the drain like something from a crime documentary. His skin ached from the exertion, yet the aroma clung stubbornly to him, like an uninvited houseguest.


    And yet, no amount of scrubbing could remove the real problem¡ªthe image that kept repeating itself in his thoughts.


    Elias sighed and met his own gaze in the mirror.


    ¡°Yeah. Totally normal night.¡±


    Elias took off his jacket, the cloth clinging to him like it had developed separation anxiety. It landed on the floor with a wet squish, causing his stomach to turn.


    His shirt wasn''t much better¡ªcrimson, greasy, and soiled. He jerked it over his head and dropped it next to the jacket.


    He stepped under the shower. The water rushed over him, turning pink as it swirled down the drain. Blood. Sweat. City grime. New York really knew how to leave its mark.


    He scrubbed till his skin tingled, but no amount of hot water could wash away the unease that lurked deep within his gut.


    He put on an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that was so faded it no longer had a personality, allowing the familiar, worn fabric to comfort him. It was a minor victory.


    He felt fatigued and drained, but his mind wasn''t getting the memo. Instead, it buzzed like a caffeinated intern, going over everything that had happened and probing at the impossible.


    Elias slumped into his chair and opened his laptop, the screen''s frigid illumination sending harsh shadows across his face. The flat was peaceful except for the low hum of the fridge, which mocked him with its normalcy.


    He cracked his knuckles and got to work, typing in the first thing that came to mind: Weird violent incidents NYC.


    The results came in like a flood of bad decisions. Headlines blared about escalating crime, gang conflicts, and random street brawls that made the city feel like a gladiator arena.


    Another stabbing in the Bronx. A brawl in Harlem. Three tourists fought over a bagel in Brooklyn?


    Okay, maybe that last one was just New York being New York.


    Still, nothing pointed clearly to what had occurred in that alley¡ªthe impossible part. Men have red eyes. The golden glow. The wound sealed itself shut like a magic trick with terrifyingly high stakes.


    He grimaced and dived into the internet''s odder corners, where people disputed whether pigeons were government spies.


    Conspiracy blogs. Fringe forums. Posts littered with words like unexplained phenomenon and miraculous healing. Most of it was nonsense, but every so often, a post stood out¡ªa whisper about bizarre attacks in other cities, victims who should¡¯ve died but didn¡¯t, wounds vanishing like they¡¯d never been there.


    Coincidence? Maybe.


    "Great," he murmured. "Either I''m losing my mind, or I''ve stumbled into some X-Files nonsense."


    Okay. Time for the big guns.


    Elias leaned back in his chair, ran a hand through his damp hair, and hovered his fingers over the keyboard, as if about to commit a dreadful act. He exhaled. This is ridiculous. But after what he had seen tonight, he was beyond ridiculous. He was deep in what the actual hell territory.


    However, nothing could have prepared him for the pure humiliation of what he was about to type.


    Glowing hands healing.


    He hit enter and immediately regretted every decision that had brought him to this point.


    The search results were just as he had feared. Articles on reiki energy healing promising to "align his chakras" (whatever that meant), forums debating whether anime protagonists could actually heal with light, and¡ªbecause the internet was a lawless place¡ªseveral links to superhero fan fiction, one of which contained a disturbing glowing-handed romance between a mutant and a werewolf.


    Elias groaned and rubbed his face. I have a medical degree. I should not be here.


    Fine. New approach.


    Golden eyes.


    Enter.


    ...Vampires.


    So many vampires. Some were somber, some were dazzling, and some appeared to have the ability to steal souls with a single glance. A heavy, sinking feeling settled in his gut.


    "If Leo turns out to be a vampire," he said quietly, "I am done with this night."


    One last shot.


    Electric blue eyes.


    The page was loaded with images of Siberian Huskies and strangely intelligent-looking white cats. Several linkages point to a hereditary condition that causes blue eyes to look extremely brilliant. Fascinating, yes, but not quite "man summons golden healing light" level of explanation.


    He flopped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. The fan creaked overhead, spinning in slow, taunting circles, as if condemning his entire life.


    "This is my life now," he grumbled. "I''m a doctor, and I''m Googling supernatural eye colors at two in the morning."


    He shut down his laptop, the sudden darkness of the room pushing in on him. He wasn''t getting anywhere. Perhaps sleep might help. Or, at the very least, it would provide a brief respite from this chaos.


    He decided to try to sleep and shut down his racing mind for a few hours. He slipped into bed, the familiar warmth of his mattress and blankets providing only minor relief.


    Sleep, however, would not come easy. He tossed and twisted, his thoughts returning to the events of the night, each memory more vivid and unpleasant than the last.


    Finally, exhaustion pinned him down, and he fell into a restless sleep.


    And then he was standing at the edge of the cliff. That cliff.


    Beneath him stretched the same ocean of colors, but it was not the tranquil kind that encouraged leisurely afternoons and pricey resort cocktails he had seen before. This sea churned.


    The water clashed violently, as if a hurricane raged from below. Flickers of red pulsed in the depths, like warning lights on a sinking ship¡ªor worse, like the eerie glow he''d seen in the attacker''s glare.


    Then came the giants.


    The collosal figures from his last dream were no longer just looming shadows. They had shape and form¡ªpresence. And they weren''t just there.


    They were fighting.


    The golden one, the same figure that had before reached for him, blazed like a sun, each movement precise and decisive, like a warrior who had done this dance a thousand times.


    Across from him, the shadowy entity with blood-red eyes struck with deadly accuracy, twisting the universe around it.


    It wasn''t simply a fight. It was an event. A cosmic brawl so violent, Elias half expected an announcer to start hyping the next round.


    Then, he saw her. The girl from the park.


    She stood at the very edge of the precipice, her figure etched against the swirling mayhem below.


    The wind ruffled her clothes, tossing her hair over her face, but she didn''t move. Those blue eyes¡ªbright, sharp, as if they could see straight through him¡ªwere fixed on the combat happening below.


    Elias barely had time to grasp the odd scene when she turned, her gaze drawn to him. Elias sure that she had been expecting him all along.


    She spoke with an unusual tone. It didn''t only ring throughout the vast dreamscape; it echoed in his bones like an antique bell tolling.


    Find the others. They will guide you. They are scattered, hidden among you. Find them before it''s too late...


    And just like that, the dream began to unravel¡ªcolors blending together, the ground shifting beneath him.


    "Wait, what? What others? Who are they?!" Elias shouted, but it was too late. She was already fading, her figure disappearing like mist in the morning sun.


    Elias bolted upright, breathing as if he had just completed a marathon in his sleep. His heart pounded against his ribs, his T-shirt clung to him like he''d been drenched in a pool, and his breathing came in short, rapid bursts.


    Fantastic. Nothing like waking up feeling like you just escaped a horror movie.


    The first slivers of dawn filtered through the slats, throwing pale stripes over his room¡ªIt seemed as though the universe was attempting to be artistic about his insomnia.


    He exhaled after dragging a palm down his face. It was all a dream, he told himself. Classic stress-related, trauma-fueled, overactive-imagination crap. This happens to surgeons all the time, right?


    Except¡­ yeah. No.


    Because his instinct told him differently. The dream was not fading like a typical nightmare. It sat there, heavy and relentless, like an unwanted visitor who refused to take a hint.


    A warning.


    A very strange, very cryptic, and very unwelcome call to action.


    He flopped back onto his pillow and stared at the ceiling.


    ¡°Great. Love that for me.¡±

 Open Eyes

    Three days.


    Seventy-two hours of pretending his life hadn¡¯t taken a nosedive into the Twilight Zone. Three days since what should¡¯ve been a routine walk home turned into a front-row seat to the impossible. Three days of trying¡ªand failing¡ªto convince himself that he hadn¡¯t actually seen what he¡¯d seen.


    And yet there he was, walking through Mount Sinai''s corridors as though nothing had gone wrong.


    The strong smell of antiseptic assaulted his nostrils, the lingering aroma of burned coffee coiled in the air, and a distant argument about someone stealing another doctor''s yogurt pulsed like white noise.


    Yep. Totally normal. If he disregarded the fact that his mind had been replaying That Night like a poorly made film trailer.


    Elias found Alex in room 312, a private room on the pediatric floor that had apparently been transformed into a mini convenience store.


    The kid was buried under a mountain of get-well balloons, and his bedside table was stacked with enough chips, candy, and soda to put a dentist into early retirement.


    The only thing ruining the party was the IV stand by the bed, a silent reminder that Alex had gone dangerously near to never needing snacks again.


    "Hey, Alex." Elias leaned against the doorframe and gave a timid smile. "How''s the stabbing?"


    Alex smiled, still pale but far too enthusiastic for someone who had been stabbed. "Like I got hit by a truck," he added, gesturing wildly toward the junk food stash. "But, hey, at least the food is better than what they offer in school. Almost worth the near-death experience."


    Elias snorted. ¡°Glad to see your priorities are in order.¡±


    He sat down and tried to ignore the strange knot in his chest. Most of all, it was relief that Alex was alive. Talking. Joking. But there was also the looming weight of everything else.


    "The nurses say you''re recovering fast." He maintained a casual demeanor, as if they had not seen each other in an alley filled with blood, panic, and a glowing dude with healing hands.


    "Yeah, well," Alex shrugged, then grimaced as he remembered his knife wound. "It turns out that getting skewered hurts. Who knew? But, hey, I am still here, right? All thanks to you, Doc."


    Elias shifted in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. ¡°Just doing my job,¡± he mumbled.


    He should have said more. Should have clarified. Should''ve hinted at the magical healing, and reality-is-now-broken condition.


    But Alex seemed fine. Normal. No lingering signs of trauma or existential crisis. Maybe Elias had imagined the whole thing.


    "So, uh, about that night¡­" Alex''s tone became more serious, as his fingers casually picked at a loose thread on his hospital blanket. "I actually don''t recall much. A blur. There was a lot of discomfort. Then you." He squinted, as if he were attempting to pluck shards from a dream. "You showed up unexpectedly. Then... things got kinda fuzzy, like I was in and out, you know?"


    He frowned, rubbing his temple. ¡°Did¡­ did you call the ambulance?¡±


    Elias leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, carefully observing Alex. "Yeah. 911. They dispatched one right away." He paused before deciding to prod, just a little. "You don''t remember anything... Weird? anything that felt off?"


    Alex gave him a blank expression. "Besides getting shanked in an alley?" He gave a dry chuckle and winced, his hand shooting to one side. "Yeah, no, Doc. It''s just you. And a lot of ''Oh God, I''m Dying'' vibes."


    Elias sighed, his shoulders loosening before he realized they were stiff. Alex couldn''t recall. Was that a good thing? Probably. It rescued him from the whole "magic exists" argument, which he have no idea how to explain.


    "Right... That''s good," Elias remarked with a smile. "Less trauma for you to unpack in therapy." He clasped his hands together. "So, when''s your grand escape?"


    "Couple more days, they say," Alex complained. "And not too soon. I''m going crazy in here. My mother is also on her way, and she is going to nag me like crazy. It''s gonna be brutal."


    Elias snorted. "A mother''s love is a powerful thing," he added, smirking. "Even if it comes with severe side effects, like excessive worrying and unsolicited life lectures."


    "Yeah, yeah." Alex waved his hand before grabbing a bag of chips from his stockpile. "At least I got these out of it."


    Elias looked over the snack stash. "Perks of being a tragic victim, huh?"


    Alex smirked. ¡°Oh, absolutely. Though, I¡¯d trade all the junk food in the world for a decent pizza right now.¡±


    Elias tapped a contemplative finger against his chin. "Hm. What if I knew someone who could smuggle a slice past enemy lines?"


    Alex gasped. Actually gasped. ¡°You¡¯d do that?¡±


    Elias shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t get used to it. I¡¯m a doctor, not a pizza mule.¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They talked about everything¡ªAlex''s school, his desire of becoming a game developer (despite his own admission that he is terrible at coding), his favorite horror films¡ªanything to avoid the elephant in the room. Or, more accurately, the supernatural alleyway stab-fest in the room.


    Elias listened, nodding and laughing in the right places, but the undercurrent of discomfort remained. The name Leo hung in the back of his mind like a tenacious headache, along with the creeping realization that his life had officially deviated from the sensible road.


    As the hospital intercom crackled, signaling the end of visiting hours, Elias pushed himself up, sighing. "Okay, Alex. I should let you relax before the nurses start giving me the suffer-the-consequences look.


    Alex smirked and shifted under his cover. "Thank''s for stopping by, Doc. Seriously. I''d be dead if not for you."


    Elias opened his mouth to brush it off¡ªjust doing my job¡ªbut the words remained in his throat.


    Instead, he just nodded. ¡°Try not to get stabbed again, yeah? It¡¯s bad for your health.¡±


    He was almost to the door when Alex''s voice stopped him.


    ¡°Hey, Doc?¡±


    His tone had changed now: hesitant, searching.


    Elias turned, hand still on the doorknob. ¡°Yeah?¡±


    Alex hesitated, then lowered his voice. ¡°That guy. The one who¡­ you know.¡±


    Elias''s fingers tightened around the metal. Damn it. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation.


    Alex swallowed. ¡°Did you ever find him?¡±


    Elias exhaled through his nose. He could lie. He probably should lie. But looking at Alex¡ªbattered, stitched up, but still sharp¡ªhe knew it wouldn¡¯t work.


    "No," he finally replied. "He got away."


    Alex focused on his hands. "Yeah. I thought so." He didn''t express surprise. "I don''t remember much, but¡­" His face furrowed, as if he were attempting to bring a half-forgotten nightmare to mind. "I recall the way he moved. He was fast. Too fast. Like¡ª" He shuddered. "Like he wasn''t even human."


    A chill crawled up Elias¡¯ spine. Images flickered through his mind¡ªthe crimson flash of eyes, the unnatural speed, the thing that man had become. Then Leo¡¯s words: It¡¯s starting.


    Alex met his eyes, his words softer now. "You don''t think he''ll come back, do you?"


    Elias forced a breath, suppressing the instinct to offer something soothing. To be honest, he had no idea. But his gut told him that what happened in that alley wasn''t a one-time occurrence.


    He opened the door, looking back at Alex. "I have a very strong feeling," he murmured, "that my life isn''t allowed to be that easy."


    Alex snorted. ¡°That¡¯s a terrible answer.¡±


    Elias sighed. ¡°Yeah, well. Welcome to my life.¡±


    Elias left Alex''s room, but the teen''s words lingered to him like a foul hospital odor. Inhumanly fast. It wasn''t just the statement; it was how Alex said it, as if he was convincing himself he hadn''t dreamt it.


    He needed a distraction.


    He saw vending machine down the corridor, its neon glow giving the illusion of normalcy in the form of overpriced sugar.


    Elias pulled some money from his wallet, inserted it into the slot, and clicked the button for a drink. The machine whirred to life, stopped as if deciding whether or not to comply, and spit out the can with a powerful thump.


    As he reached for his drink, a flicker of movements on the nearby television drew his attention. The hospital had it permanently tuned to the news¡ªprobably to remind patients that yes, things could always be worse.


    The screen cycled through clips of protests, thick crowds shoving against riot shields. Smoke-filled streets. Cars overturned.


    The headline read: Trouble Brewing in Europe as Tensions Rise.


    The next image showed a riot much closer to home. Civil Unrest Spreads Across the Country.


    Elias took a sip of his cola and felt the carbonation burn his throat as he watched television.


    This was hardly your typical doom and gloom news cycle. This felt... odd. Amplified. As if someone had turned up the world''s tension dial to eleven and broke the knob clean off.


    He remembered what Nurse Jenny had said earlier that week: Everyone is walking around like a lit fuse.


    The news cut to a man hurling a traffic cone through a storefront window in a shaky video. People were shouting, fists were flying, and cops were fighting to maintain order as the camera panned frantically.


    Elias let out a harsh sigh. Yep. It''s official¡ªthat fuse is burning.


    He took another sip of his soda, but the delicious fizz did little to soothe his rising thirst for answers. He took out his phone, his fingers hovering over the browser icon. Was he actually going to do this again? Dive back to the internet rabbit hole of the bizarre and unexplained?


    Screw it.


    Tapping the screen, he typed: unexplained phenomena red eyes.


    The search results rushed in right away¡ªa confusing mix of medical explanations, horror stories about demonic possession, and, strangely, a fanfiction forum debating whether vampires should have luminous eyes or simply highly intense staring problems.


    He glanced over an item about ocular albinism.


    He skipped a Reddit topic titled "My Cat''s Eyes Turned Red at 3 AM¡ªHelp" (and wished that guy well).


    And disregarded a viral video offering REAL PROOF of otherworldly beings, which, judging by the thumbnail, was simply a man in a ski mask dashing past a gas station security camera.


    With a sigh, he refined his search: unexplained phenomena unnatural speed.


    This resulted in a slightly less ludicrous mix¡ªstories of athletes recording unbelievable sprint times, urban legends about individuals outrunning vehicles (sure, buddy), and the standard collection of grainy, slow-motion video that cleverly cut away just before anything remotely convincing happened.


    He leaned against the wall, massaging his brow. It was insane. He practiced surgery. He dealt in facts, in things that could be confirmed, measured, and examined under a microscope. And yet¡ª


    His fingers tightened around his phone.


    And yet, he had seen it himself.


    ''Open your eyes, Elias. Open your mind.''


    Leo''s words came back to him, smug and irritating.


    Was he being overly closed-minded? Was his scientific expertise preventing him from seeing the reality that was there in front of him? A truth that was, admittedly, completely absurd. He chuckled to himself.


    This was nuts. He was a famous surgeon, not an online detective looking for urban legends!


    But¡­ what if?


    Elias groaned and ruffled his hair, as if shaking his head hard enough would dislodge the stupid thoughts that were growing inside. He needed to think about this like a proper, sensible human being.


    He took another sip of his soda, the artificial spike of caffeine providing some clarity, if not solutions. Okay, focus.


    Fact: He had witnessed something impossible in that alley.


    Fact: Leo, glowing like a one-man Broadway light show, had healed Alex.


    Fact: A girl he met in the park with electrifying blue eyes appeared in his dream, and for some reason, his brain determined she was essential.


    Fact: Everything seemed weird. The world. The people. The air itself was like an orchestra warming up for a performance he couldn''t hear yet.


    Elias sighed, his gaze returning to the television screen. The same repetitive video of protests, buildings burning, and people yelling in the street. Something was stirring¡ªsomething significant¡ªand it wasn''t just his paranoia.


    Then there was that final, cryptic message from Dream Girl:


    Find the others.


    Great. The others. Extremely helpful. Who were they? Where should he start? Did she believe he possessed a supernatural directory for Suspiciously Glowy People?


    His eyes returned to the vending machine, as if the rows of potato chips and canned drinks had the key to life''s greatest secrets.


    Silence.


    He sighed. Figures.


    Elias let out a long, suffering sigh, as if to say, "I''m too old for this nonsense," despite the fact that he was barely over thirty.


    He was getting nowhere standing here, debating philosophy with a vending machine. He needed a plan. A lead. Preferably one that did not include perusing through conspiracy forums at 3 a.m.


    And maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªthe answer rested with the one person who had kickstarted the whole supernatural headache.


    Leo.


    Leo had promised answers. ''Next time, I will tell you everything.''


    Well, it was "next time," and Elias had had enough of waiting. He was ready¡ªreluctantly, begrudgingly, and certainly against his better judgment¡ªto accept that the world might be a bit more unhinged than he had anticipated.


    One problem.


    How did you track down a guy who appeared out of nowhere, glowed like a human nightlight, and then vanished just as fast?


    That nagging question followed Elias throughout his shift. The hospital''s normal hum¡ªbeeping monitors, clipped voices over the intercom, and steady shuffle of nurses and doctors¡ªfelt faraway.


    It was as if he was hearing it through static. Even scrubbing in for surgery, which normally cleared his mind, couldn''t shake the impression that he was simply going through the motions.


    By the time he stepped outside into the dusky evening air, he had already made up his mind.


    If I were a cryptic, glowing mystery man with a penchant for dramatic exits, where would I be?


    There was only one place to start. The park where he last saw him.


    It was a longshot. A very long shot. The kind of strategy that would be appropriate for a low-budget detective show, right before the protagonist spent an hour waiting on a park bench for nothing to happen.


    Still. It was the only lead he had.


    And if Leo did show up?


    Well, Elias had some questions. And this time, he wasn''t going to let the guy get away without some darn decent answers.