For the first time in years, the Stirling family manor was quiet. No agents at the gate. No auditors at the door. No late-night calls demanding her signature on contracts she didn't approve.Just rainlight spilling through the tall windows, soft classical music echoing faintly from the gramophone, and the muted hum of the world beginning again.Rita Stirling stood in the office that once belonged to her father, staring at the empire he built—and the ruins she was finally rebuilding. The shelves still smelled of old whiskey and cedarwood. Protests on the wall, once hidden under dust, now shone again.And I never knew that Daniel had troubled me for a very long period of time, she thought within herself. I couldn't even tell who was selling the company shares for several months...She exhaled slowly, tracing her fingers along the oak desk."You finally did it, Jeffery..." she whispered to herself. "You burned the rot to the ground."She paused, taking a deep breath. "But my uncle is dea

The silence lingered long enough to feel alive. It was so heavy that it seemed capable of weighing on the hearts of the two adults. Outside the tall glass panels of the Stirling family manor, the city stretched endlessly into the night—a sea of lights breathing like distant embers beneath a shroud of clouds. The skyline pulsed with life and indifference, its gleam catching faintly on the glass and painting them both in alternating gold and shadow. The world outside moved on, uncaring of the Strom that had just passed... or the quiet that followed.Jeffery Flamel stood there like a statue—motionless, bruised, his black coat still singed with faint streaks of ash—a man between endings and beginnings. The air between them was taut, heavy with things unsaid. Rita Stirling's voice still hung in it like a sacred echo, yet powerful enough to still his raspy breath."Jeffery Flamel..." her voice trembled only slightly. "...marry me."The words were simple—but they carried mints of pain, of tr

The silence between them pulsed softly, alive with things neither dared to say. The lamps flickered over scattered blueprints and half-assembled instruments, washing the factory in a soft amber haze. Outside, night stretched vast and watchful—a velvet sea pierced by the silver glow of distant towers. The city breathed, constant and indifferent, while inside, two people hovered between rebuilding and remembering. Jeffery's eyes moved across the room—the faint steam rising from Rita's untouched coffee, the dust mites drifting lazily through the light, the sigil of the dragon gleaming faintly on the table. Every sound—the distant hum of a generator, the whisper of wind through broken windows—felt amplified in the quiet. He finally spoke, his voice calm but worn. "You shouldn't keep coming here at night, Rita. The city's restless lately. I don't trust what hides in the dark." Rita smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind ear. "You've rebuilt a company from ashes, Jeffery

Flamel Pharmaceuticals was not a tower of pride but a fortress of silence. Spread across a thousand meters of concrete and glass, it stretched like an artery of human ambition. The upper levels were filled with sterile offices and white-coated researchers who whispered Jeffery's name with a mix of reverence and unease. But far below, beneath reinforced steel and coded locks, the laboratory breathed with a different rhythm—slow, steady, alive.That was his kingdom.The hum of the containment generators was almost musical, rising and falling like a low chant. The florescent lights above buzzed faintly, casting pale halos over surgical tables lined with relics of both science and faith. Crucibles engraved with runes. Beakers wrapped in talismanic wire. And at the center—a single, glowing containment orb surrounded by concentric circles of crimson salt.Jeffery Flamel stood in its light. His coat hung loosely around him, black gloves stained with the residue of experiments no one else dar

Afternoon light spilled through the high windows of the new laboratory—simpler, smaller, but alive with purpose. Gone were the endless lines of humming processors, the cold sterility of circuits and digital monitors. In their place: the warm crackle of flame beneath bronze crucibles, the scent of herbs and crushed minerals, and the rhythmic clink of glass.It was alchemy reborn—human, humble, honest. There were no AI consoles or machines. It was just simple, no complexity.This is it... Jeffery Flamel thought within himself. This is what I'm supposed to aim for...He stood at the center table, his sleeves rolled, his gloves stained with chalk and powder. S notebook lay open beside him, filled not with equations or code but with hand—drawn sigils, annotations, and quiet prayers.Before him, a small flask glowed faintly with golden-blue luminescence. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat—alive, but not conscious. Balanced.He smiled faintly. "At last... not an imitation of life, but harmon