Author's POV
Somewhere on the edge of the city, where steel kissed smoke and trouble wore a crown, a boy sat on the rooftop of a crumbling hotel like it was a throne.
The sun was starting to fall, casting a gold sheen across his dark black hair — unruly, thick, and perfectly tousled like it disobeyed gravity just to suit him. Sharp cheekbones framed a face that was both effortlessly handsome and frustratingly smug. His jaw was clean-cut, with a faint dimple that showed when he smirked — which he did often, especially when he knew it pissed people off.
His skin was golden-tan, like the sun tried to tame him and failed. He wore a black hoodie, half-zipped over a white tee, with ripped jeans and boots that looked like they'd been places he never talked about.
But it was his eyes — storm-grey and watchful behind tinted glasses — that held weight. Mischief danced there. So did danger. And that lethal mix? It made him stupidly, cruelly beautiful. The kind of boy who could start a war just by winking.
He leaned back on his elbows, one leg stretched out, the other bent — relaxed like the world owed him something, and he wasn't in a rush to collect.
Then came the shift.
The breeze stilled.
A shadow stepped forward — faceless, dressed in gray — and dropped a small pouch beside him without a word. The boy didn't look surprised. Didn't even blink.
He picked up the pouch, unrushed, as if he already knew what it meant. The wax seal cracked with a lazy flick of his thumb.
His smirk vanished.
Grey eyes narrowed.
The coin glinted. Silver. Marked with bloodlines.
No name. No signature. Just riddles sharpened into warnings.
He stood. Slow. Certain.
Vacation was over.
He slowly opened up his pouch
[" The fox has started wondering from the den."
"The hound must stay close—but not bark."
"Watch the shadow that forgets it has a spine."
"If it bends too far, remind it what breaks."
"Your last trial begins at the bell tower. The window opens only once." ]
It read and he slowly turned the pouch finding a coin.
Somehow that made him smirk in kind of annoyance holding that coin which he'd know what had meant.
On the back of the coin, it was engraved faintly in Latin
"Sanguinem custodi. Silentium vincit." He read his voice soft but husky, in his Latin sharp accent.
Letting a smirk…thinking of what written on the coin.
"Guard the bloodline. Silence conquers." He translated into English.