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**Chapter 1: The Beginning of the Story**

  New York is not a city for soft hearts. Casey knew this well. He had learned to read the corners like others read the newspaper: he knew where the traffic light lasted longer and cars dropped coins, where the wind pushed papers that sometimes served as blankets, where the bagel cart owner threw away what he didn’t sell before ten.

  Alhóndiga walked beside him as if they were one. The dog was skinny, with a coat between gray and brown, one ear drooping and the other always alert. No one knew where it had come from. It just appeared one rainy afternoon, curled up next to Casey under a bridge, and since then, they never parted.

  That December morning, the cold cut to the bone. Casey woke up huddled against a brick wall covered in graffiti. Alhóndiga's breath warmed his neck. He clenched his teeth and slowly stood up, picking up his broken backpack.

  “Come on, old man,” he murmured, giving his companion a pat. “Today’s a lucky day, yeah?”

  He didn’t believe it, but he said it. Saying it was like trying to force luck to turn its head.

  They walked to 7th and 33rd. There, the pretzel stand usually threw the oldest ones into a box. Casey waited patiently, pretending to just lean on the lamppost. When the owner came out to smoke, Casey approached.

  “Got anything from yesterday?”

  The guy looked at him, sighed, and without saying anything, tossed him two pretzels as hard as stone.

  “Thanks,” Casey said sincerely. He broke one in half. Half for him. The other for Alhóndiga.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  They ate sitting on the sidewalk, watching the city rush by as if they didn’t exist.

  And then, everything changed.

  A metallic sound, like chains dragging against stone, startled them. It came from an alley across the street. The people didn’t hear it. No one stopped. Only the two of them looked in that direction. Casey slowly stood up. Alhóndiga growled.

  A floating crack opened in the air, like a vertical wound made of liquid darkness. From its edge hung a huge, rusty lock, vibrating. It had symbols Casey didn’t understand but that made his skin crawl.

  “What the hell is that...?”

  Before he could finish the sentence, the crack tore open, and something came out.

  It wasn’t human.

  Nor animal.

  It had form, but no logic. Claws, yes. A smile made of blades. Eyes... too many eyes.

  Casey froze. The creature took a step. The streetlights flickered.

  And then, Alhóndiga barked. Not out of fear. But as a warning.

  The creature twisted its head toward them.

  And ran.

  Casey barely managed to grab a rusted metal pipe from the ground. He held it with both trembling hands, stepping back, ready to die, ready to fight. When the monster jumped, a voice pierced through him like lightning:

  **“Choose to protect... and the flame will be yours.”**

  The pipe in his hand lit up, as if the fire came from inside it, from his rage, his fear, his hunger.

  Blue fire, cold to the sight but hot to the soul.

  The creature stopped mid-jump, startled. Casey screamed, driven by something bigger than him, and struck.

  The impact was brutal. The monster screamed, retreating in trails of black smoke.

  Casey breathed heavily. The fire didn’t burn him, but he felt it alive, latent, as if it was now part of him.

  Alhóndiga approached him, unafraid, sniffing the burning pipe.

  The crack closed on its own with one last sound of chains.

  Casey looked at his hands.

  “What was that... what... what did I do?”

  But no one answered.

  Only Alhóndiga, who looked at him with wise eyes.

  And the city, which kept moving as if it hadn’t seen a thing.

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