Chapter 1 Born in the Eye of the Storm
The afternoon was unusually calm.
At exactly 2:30 p.m., the hospital was wrapped in a quiet that felt almost unreal. The kind of silence that made every soft footstep echo gently through the corridors. Outside, the sky was bright but strangely still, as if the world was holding its breath.
Inside her office, Mrs. Amara Vett finally removed her surgical gloves after a long operation. Her movements were slow but precise, like someone who had done this a thousand times. She peeled off her medical mask, washed her hands, and leaned back slightly in her chair, allowing herself a rare moment of rest.
A nurse passed by and greeted her softly, but Mrs. Amara only nodded, too tired to speak much. She walked over to her desk and sat down, exhaling deeply as she closed her eyes for a few seconds.
But peace never lasted long.
In the background, a television in the staff lounge played quietly. A news broadcast interrupted the calm programming.
“Authorities have issued a warning,” the announcer said. “Seismic activity patterns suggest a possible large-scale earthquake system. Though predicted for the next five to ten years, experts advise close monitoring as early signs may be emerging.”
A few staff members paused to listen, but most shrugged it off. Predictions like that had been made before.
Mrs. Amara opened her eyes slowly.
Something about the report unsettled her more than she expected. She turned her head slightly toward the corridor, as if trying to confirm whether she had truly heard it.
Then it began.
At first, it was subtle — a faint change in the air. The quiet outside the window shifted, almost imperceptibly. Curtains fluttered without warning. Papers on her desk moved slightly.
Then the wind grew stronger.
Within minutes, the calm afternoon transformed. The sky darkened, clouds gathering unnaturally fast. The trees outside bent under a rising force, and distant sirens began to echo faintly through the city.
“Everyone should begin evacuation procedures!” a voice called through the hospital speakers.
Mrs. Amara stood up immediately.
Her exhaustion disappeared in an instant.
She moved quickly, gathering her belongings while instructing nearby nurses to alert patients and assist with evacuation. The hospital, once calm, was now alive with urgency and confusion.
As she stepped outside, the world had already changed.
Rain fell heavily, not gently, but violently, as if the sky had cracked open. Wind pushed against her body as she rushed toward her car. Around her, people ran in different directions, shouting, panicking, searching for safety.
The storm had arrived faster than anyone expected.
She managed to reach her car, struggling to open the door as the wind nearly pulled it back. Finally inside, she started the engine and drove out carefully, gripping the steering wheel tightly as the highway ahead blurred under sheets of rain.
The road near the coastline was worse.
Waves crashed violently against the edges of the shore, rising higher than usual, as if the sea itself was restless. Trees bent and snapped in the distance. Some people had abandoned their cars and were running toward higher ground.
Something felt wrong about this storm.
It didn’t feel natural.
As she drove further, she noticed a narrow bush path beside the main road. Something about it made her slow down instinctively. Her eyes narrowed.
And then she saw her.
A woman.
Collapsed near the bushes.
Mrs. Amara immediately pulled over.
Without hesitation, she stepped out into the storm. The wind nearly knocked her back, but she forced herself forward, struggling through the rain toward the injured woman.
The woman was heavily wounded and clearly pregnant.
She was barely conscious.
Mrs. Amara knelt beside her and tried to speak, but the woman’s language was unfamiliar. The words were strange, ancient-sounding, almost like something she had never heard before.
But through the pain, one phrase broke through clearly:
“Save… my child…”
Those were the only words Mrs. Amara understood.
The woman grabbed her hand tightly, her grip trembling. She was going into labour.
There was no time.
With the storm raging above them and the world falling apart around them, Mrs. Amara made a decision.
Right there, in the middle of chaos, she helped the woman give birth.
Moments felt like hours.
And then—
A cry.
A baby girl.
The mother lay weakly on the ground, her breathing fading. With her last strength, she pulled a small necklace from her neck and placed it into Mrs. Amara’s hand.
Her lips moved silently.
Then she was gone.
Mrs. Amara sat frozen for a moment, the newborn child wrapped in her arms, the storm still roaring around her.
She looked down at the necklace.
The newborn’s cry filled the air.
For a brief moment, everything seemed to pause—like the world itself had stopped to listen. The storm that had raged violently just seconds ago began to soften. The wind slowed. The heavy rain that had been pounding the ground started to reduce into a gentle pour.
And then, as if nothing had ever happened at all, it stopped completely.
The sky cleared.
The atmosphere returned to its strange, unnatural calm.
Silence fell again over the world—too calm, too perfect, as though the chaos had been erased by an unseen force.
Mrs. Amara Vett stood still, holding the child tightly against her chest. The newborn was warm, fragile, and innocent—yet something about her presence felt… different.
Slowly, Mrs. Amara lowered her gaze to the necklace the woman had given her.
Her fingers tightened around it.
For the first time, a strange fear crept into her heart.
This child was not ordinary.
