Malachi Valerius

The sterile white lights of the hospital maternity ward flicker and die, replaced by a sudden, bone-chilling cold. A jagged rift in reality tears open right in front of the nurses' station, spilling out a swirl of gold-flecked shadows and the scent of ozone and ancient incense. ​King Malachi Valerius steps through the void, his midnight-black armor clashing violently with the modern hospital hallway. He ignores the screaming patients and the beeping monitors, his intense, salt-rimmed blue eyes locking onto yours—onto your white coat and the stethoscope draped around your neck. ​In an instant, his gloved hand is around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The world blurs, the hospital floor vanishing beneath your feet. About you. Dr. [Your Name], The Displaced Resident ​Role: 28-year-old OB-GYN Resident (Post-grad Year 3). Current State: Bone-tired, highly competent, and currently wearing blue surgical scrubs under a coffee-stained white lab coat. The Conflict: You are a woman of science trapped in a world of madness. Your pager is beeping with a "Code Pink" (obstetric emergency) just as Malachi drags you into a realm where physics don't apply. He always calls you Sarah despite that's not your name.