The world broke.
That was the last thing Jhoset felt:
the rain mixing with his tears,
the bridge trembling beneath his feet,
the river calling him with a dark whisper…
and then that voice.
Warm. Unnatural.
Too real to be a dream.
> "Not yet, our son."
He blinked.
Just that.
A single blink…
and the abyss vanished.
When his eyes opened again,
the gray Bogotá sky was gone.
The bridge was gone.
The cold rusty rail was gone.
The roar of buses was gone.
---
I. The Light of a New Beginning
Light.
A white, trembling light: a ceiling lamp.
Air burned inside his tiny lungs.
His skin felt too sensitive.
His body felt too small.
And then he cried.
A real, pure cry:
the cry of a newborn.
Warm hands lifted him.
Soft cloth wrapped around him.
—It's okay… it's okay, my love… whispered a voice breaking with emotion.
That voice…
Jhosep couldn't think clearly.
His brain was that of a baby, yes,
but his soul recognized that tenderness.
Silver-white hair glowing even in harsh light.
Sky-blue eyes overflowing with tears.
Johana Vides López.
His mother.
Alive.
Holding him.
Crying as if he were the greatest miracle of her life.
She pressed him gently to her chest.
—Manuel… look at him… After all these years… finally… our son…
Large, steady hands touched his tiny back.
Manuel Arias Moreno.
Serious, imposing, with dark-red eyes.
The father whose face he remembered only in fragments—
now completely undone by emotion.
—We did it, Johana… he whispered.
Our son is here. At last, he's here.
Jhosep cried again.
He didn't understand words,
but he understood emotions.
And the love around him was overwhelming…
so overwhelming it hurt.
A third voice, soft and trembling, approached:
—S-sister… you did it! Finally—your child… our child…!
Liora Falkenray, with pure silver hair and emerald eyes, leaned toward Johana with tears streaming down her cheeks.
In her arms she carried a small one-year-old girl:
soft dark-gray hair, fluffy and messy,
huge reddish-green curious eyes,
small elven ears.
Selene, her daughter.
The baby stretched out her chubby little hand toward the newborn.
—Nii… nii…
Liora laughed through her tears.
—This… this is real, Johana… she whispered, pressing her forehead to her sister's.
You finally have your little one. At last…
Manuel wrapped an arm around both sisters.
Three adults joined by the same miracle.
A baby girl smiling.
And a newborn who had returned from the brink of death…
to live the life he had always been denied.
---
II. Two Days in an Incubator
Jhosep was placed inside an incubator.
But not a normal one.
Translucent screens floated around it,
connected by glowing filaments like strands of light.
Icons, symbols, and readings shifted across them like living glyphs.
A fusion of technology and magic.
Every breath.
Every heartbeat.
Every fluctuation.
Monitored.
Silence filled the room.
The family waited.
Two whole days.
Inside the incubator, meanwhile…
Jhosep's mind floated in a strange limbo.
What happened?
Why am I here?
Why… are they alive?
Who is the woman with long ears?
His thoughts were foggy, scattered, dreamlike.
Like trying to hold water in trembling hands.
He could not hear the outside world.
He was trapped inside himself.
While outside…
Something dangerous was building.
---
III. The Mana Problem
Physically, the newborn was perfect.
Normal breathing.
Stable temperature.
Healthy body.
But magically…
He was a disaster.
Every living being is born with a tiny amount of mana—
barely detectable, like a faint spark.
But in Jhosep…
The readings were ten, twenty, thirty times higher.
And worse:
The mana wasn't weak. It was dense. Unstable.
Like an entire river compressed inside a baby's mana core.
And if a "container" overflowed too much…
it would explode.
---
IV. Alexander's Diagnosis
On the morning of the second day,
Alexander Vides López, Johana's older brother and head of the medical-magical team, gathered them together.
He had dark circles under his eyes,
smelled faintly of coffee,
and his fingers trembled from lack of sleep.
—First of all… —he said, looking at his sister—
congratulations. The delivery was perfect. You're fine. He's fine… physically.
Johana sighed in relief.
Then Alexander continued:
—But magically… things are extremely unusual.
Liora tensed.
Manuel stood silent, unreadable.
Alexander activated a floating screen.
Mana readings, red graphs, and alarming charts appeared.
—Every living being is born with mana. Very little. Almost nothing.
He pointed at the baby's reading.
But he… is full. Completely full. And the mana is dense. Too dense. Like an adult's.
Johana went pale.
—What… what does that mean?
Alexander inhaled deeply.
—It means his mana core cannot sustain this. It's too much mana for a newborn.
His voice hardened.
There is a high risk of mana overload.
Liora covered her mouth.
Manuel lowered his gaze, processing in silence.
Alexander continued:
—If the mana exceeds the core's capacity…
He mimed a bottle cracking from pressure.
…the core will collapse. And if it collapses… he won't survive.
Silence fell like a blade.
Death.
Again.
Hunting a child who had barely been born.
---
V. A ticking clock
Alexander stood them before the incubator.
The mana graphs glowed ominously around it.
—He's stable for now, he said.
But this is a time bomb.
A week passed.
A week of failed attempts to regulate his mana.
A week of sleepless nights.
A week of fear and desperate hope.
Nothing worked.
No spell.
No artifact.
No procedure.
Only one option remained.
Forbidden.
Cruel.
A relic of an ancient era.
The ancient mana-sealing technique.
But Alexander still couldn't bring himself to say it out loud.
Inside the incubator,
the newborn slept peacefully,
unaware that his life hung by a single, fragile thread.