Alistair POV
The shift in the city's pulse hit me before dawn.
I was sitting alone in my study, surrounded by quiet.
The only sounds were the faint hum of the city through the windows and the low ticking of the old clock on the wall.
Then the air trembled.
Not physically. Not enough for a human to notice. But to someone like me, it was a fracture in the world's rhythm.
A ripple of power so faint most beings would dismiss it as imagination. A whisper, a pulse, a breath. But I knew what it was. I closed the book in my hand slowly, as though it weighed something different now.
No, It couldn't be.
I stood, my jaw tightening as an echo shivered along my spine, threading cold strands of heat through my bones.
Starborn.
After all these years, after everything that was destroyed, after the wars after the purges.
The line was supposed to be extinct.
Yet the city pulsed again, a small, sharp tremor, like a dying star flaring its last.
Except this was no dying star. This was an awakening.
I exhaled slowly, controlling the storm inside my chest.
"Impossible," I murmured.
Because if a starborn lived, then the world was about to change.
And if she had awakened, even barely the hunters would already be moving. Which meant I needed to move faster.
Night fell quickly over Valeries City.
I crossed the rooftops like a shadow stitched into the skyline, the wind tugging at my coat as I moved.
Like a heartbeat trying to remember itself. The Bloodborn signal. Her signal.
I gritted my teeth.
The last thing I needed was another complication. Another vulnerability.
And yet I couldn't ignore it.
I landed across from an abandoned warehouse on Fifth Avenue.
A cluster of shadows shifted inside, quiet, but not quiet enough for someone like me.
Rogue killers. Same faction as the ones who had been hunting innocents nearby. I didn't waste time.
Steel whispered as I drew my blade. A step. A breath. A blur.
I entered the warehouse like a gust of wind.
The first man didn't even see me. The second barely turned before my blade found him. The third lunged with a sharp cry that died halfway through as I ended him with a precise strike. Their blood hit the floor before their bodies did.
But halfway through the next movement. The resonance slammed into me again. Stronger, sharper, closer.
My muscles locked mid-strike, and for a fraction of a second the assassin I was aiming for actually grazed my arm. His eyes widened, he'd hit me. No one ever hit me. Then I slit his throat.
He collapsed in a wet heap.
I stood still, breath low and even, letting the blood settle into silence.
But my heart, my heart had jolted.
I hadn't felt that in years.
She was alive.
The resonance hadn't been a death tremor.
It was new, raw and uncontrolled.
A heartbeat struggling to match itself to the world.
By the bridge, she lay there. Her body collapsed, fragile, powerless—or at least that's what the attackers thought. But the faint pulse beneath her skin… it sang. Raw. Dangerous. Alive.
I moved faster than thought. My hands were on her in an instant, lifting her effortlessly. Weightless in my arms. The world narrowed to the rhythm of her blood.
Something ancient stirred.
A pull I hadn't felt in years. Not fear, not anger. Recognition. Need.
I didn't let myself dwell on it.
Through silent alleys, under neon signs, across the sleeping city, I carried her.
Each step precise, each motion controlled. Her pulse hummed faintly against me.
A whisper in the dark. I ignored it. Focused on getting her home.
By the time I reached her apartment, the first light of morning touched the skyline. I laid her gently on her bed, careful not to disturb the fragile rhythm of her breathing.
She stirred, a faint murmur. Eyes closed. Unaware of what had just happened—or of who had saved her.
I lingered a moment, letting the shadow of my presence hover over her. The city hummed beneath the window, distant, unaware. I shut down the pull inside me, burying it deep. Control was all that mattered.
"You won't die again," I whispered. Low. Firm. A promise not meant for her to hear.
And then I was gone. Shadows swallowed me. The hum faded. But the pull lingered. A quiet reminder that she wasn't just another life in the city. Not anymore.