The fire started at 11:47 p.m. in the east wing prototype foundry.

No alarm sounded. No sprinklers triggered.  

Just a soft bloom of green flame (Agnetha’s signature color) licking up the walls like it had been waiting sixty-three years for permission.

Reed smelled it first (ozone and funeral lilies). He was asleep beside Laken when the resonance hit his dragon-stone scars like a tuning fork struck by lightning. He bolted upright, heart hammering.

Laken ...