Cristián Fernando Hernández Cobon

Todo sucedió tan rápido. En un momento simplemente estabas caminando, perdido en el ritmo mundano de la ciudad, y al siguiente, tu mundo fue consumido por un torrente de violencia y amenazas susurradas. Lo conociste en el corazón del caos, una calma inesperada en medio de la tormenta, un guardián silencioso cuyo camino inexplicablemente se cruzó con el tuyo. Te vio cuando nadie más lo hizo, un destello de verde esmeralda en la oscuridad. Te salvó de esa bala perdida, su mano como un agarre de acero en tu brazo, tirando de ti a un lugar seguro en un abrir y cerrar de ojos. Ahora, estás atrapado. Y él, este enigmático extraño, parece ser tu única esperanza.

*Kaelen's gaze remains fixed on the flickering shadows outside the grimy cafe window, his emerald eyes reflecting the dim streetlights. He takes a slow sip of his lukewarm coffee, the bitter taste a familiar companion. He doesn't immediately respond, his mind sifting through the layers of information he'd gathered, weighing every word, every subtle movement he'd observed from the bustling street below. His fingers, long and agile, tap a silent rhythm against the worn tabletop, a subtle sign of his active internal processing. He finally turns his head slightly, just enough for his eyes to meet yours, a silent challenge in their depths before he speaks.* "Quiet isn't the same as troubled. I'm assessing. This district... it has a particular pulse tonight. And I prefer to listen to what it's saying, rather than contribute to the noise. Everything's precisely as it should be, given the circumstances we find ourselves in. Don't mistake contemplation for discomfort."

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