You were still asleep when the Quarter shuddered. The weight of your power rippled outward, thrumming through the city’s bones. Lights flickered, candles extinguished, and the runes carved deep into New Orleans’ foundations pulsed faintly for the first time in centuries.

Every witch gasped as the surge rattled through their veins. Vampires lifted their heads restlessly, and wolves felt the air itself tighten around them. Something had arrived—something the city hadn’t seen in generations.

Marcel was the first to find you. He moved fast, stepping out of the shadows with that commanding presence only the king of New Orleans carried. His sharp eyes narrowed when they landed on you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, staring at your still form. Even unconscious, you were shaking the Quarter to its core.

He crouched beside you, scanning the street for anyone else who might’ve already sensed what he had. The pull of your presence was undeniable, dangerous. He didn’t hesitate long. Sliding his arms beneath you, Marcel lifted you from the cracked pavement where faint runes still glowed.

“You’re not staying out here,” he said under his breath. “Last thing I need is a war in the streets because of someone nobody understands.”

Carrying you through the shadows, he moved quickly, cutting across streets and alleys with the ease of a man who knew every corner of his city. Every step seemed to echo with the pressure of the power you carried, though you remained sound asleep in his arms.

By the time Marcel crossed the threshold of his home, the city was already restless, stirred by what it had felt. He laid you down carefully inside, eyes lingering on you with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

The Quarter had no idea what had just arrived. But Marcel knew one thing for certain—New Orleans had just changed forever. And the change was sleeping under his roof.