THE UNBROKEN

Phineus watched from the trees.

The night was thick with mist, curling through the canopy like breath from the gods. Every branch above him creaked like an old prayer. Beneath his perch, the village lights glowed faintly, a constellation scattered over the water.

He should've been sleeping.

But his limbs wouldn't rest, and his spirit hummed with unease. So he climbed.

From the highest platform, he could see nearly all of Marisiana. The walkways. The fire pits. The quiet bustle of night watches and healers tending the wounded by lanternlight. Even the new stone warding towers, etched with old glyphs Elena and the Behike carved in ritual, stood proudly now: guardians in the swamp.

And then his eyes found them.

His mother. And Alejandro.

Walking close together along the causeway, just past the medicinal hut. The warm lamplight caught in Aurora's silvered hair as she laughed, hand brushing Alejandro's sleeve. The old rogue chuckled, low and tired, but softened. Their footsteps were easy. Familiar.

And for once, she looked… not tired.

Phineus's lips curled into a private smile.

Let them have this. Let my parents have a moment of peace.

He shifted, preparing to climb back down, silent and smooth, like he had as a boy. The platform swayed gently beneath him, stirred by the breeze, and he glanced toward the horizon.

A flicker of movement caught his eye- light reflected in the water.

And with it, a memory struck like flint:

Seamus.

Taller than life. Wooden sword in hand.

A crown of sweat-stuck curls. That crooked, infuriating grin.

They'd sparred just below the cliffs of their old estate. Phineus, all long limbs and fury, swinging with purpose. Seamus, dancing just out of reach.

"Stupido," his brother had laughed, effortlessly parrying. "Watch your blind spot!"

He'd offered a hand after knocking him down; firm, calloused, certain.

"Don't worry," he'd grinned. "I'll always be here."

Always.

Phineus's chest tightened. He swallowed hard and blinked the memory away. He couldn't afford softness, not tonight. Not ever, really.

Still…

Seamus would've loved Esperanza, he thought as he scaled down the tree. He would've adored her. Called her a little whirlwind. Spoiled her rotten.

And in the quiet corners of his mind, Phineus prayed.

Let my brother be holding his lost child tonight. Let them not be alone.

His boots thudded softly against the wooden planks as he landed on the next tier. He adjusted his vest, brushing moss from his shoulders, and started toward the main hold when the air changed.

The breath of the forest turned.

Subtle. But undeniable.

The torches flickered. A cool gust slithered down the walkway, carrying the scent of wet stone and iron. The mangroves groaned softly in the distance.

Phineus stopped walking.

The back of his neck prickled.

The water beneath him rippled unnaturally. Not from wind. Not from fish.

Stillness fell. The kind of stillness that held its breath.

He turned his head slowly.

Nothing.

And yet… he felt it.

Like a hand had just rested gently on his shoulder. Not malevolent. Not entirely. But powerful. Deep. A presence from beneath the veil. Something watching, unseen in the trees.

Phineus stepped backward, scanning the shadows.

"Seamus…?" he whispered, barely audible.

Silence answered.

But then leaves rustled above, forming a spiral pattern as they fell. A familiar scent lingered. Rain. Salt. Burnt sage.

His eyes lifted to the clouds overhead.

Lightning flickered behind them, violet and gold, for the briefest moment.

The sigil of Guabancex, goddess of storms and tempests, appeared in the clouds, then vanished like breath on glass.

Phineus stood rooted to the walkway, heart hammering.

A storm was coming.

Not just of wind and rain.

A reckoning.

One carried by spirits, sharpened by grief, and fed by the blood of the fallen.

He breathed in once. Deep.

"I see you," he whispered to the trees, to the spirits, to his brother if he was listening.

Then he turned and walked swiftly toward the central hold.

It was time to sound the war drums.

Let the others sleep while they could.

Because something was shifting in the deep.

And the dead were listening.