THE UNBROKEN

The rebellion's victory did not just echo through the swamps of Marisiana-

It roared across the continent.

¡Viva La Doña y El Léon Negro!

All hail House Matteo!

Blessed is the child born of the Stormbearer and the Lionheart!

These chants echoed in every town square, every village, every far-flung outpost of the United Territories.

Black banners bearing the silver lion clutching a triple spiral wrapped in forked lightning fluttered proudly from balconies and rooftops. Children danced barefoot in the streets to songs celebrating a fairytale made real: a lion who loved his tempest, and a storm that spared no cruelty in its wrath.

Taverns and minstrels strummed the Victory Waltz, recounting how the Lionheart guided the Stormbearer through fire, fury, and love. In cities built on stone and mana steel, ballrooms began adopting the "Matteo Step," inspired by the dance Niegal and Elena had shared beside the victory bonfire. Even the elite, long suspicious of House Matteo, couldn't help but whisper:

"Did you see how he held her?"

"They said she glowed like thunder made flesh."

"If that's love, I want to drown in it."

The legend had begun.

But while the people celebrated…

Parliament was in shambles.

The fall of the Church of Saintess Yidali had created a power vacuum, and House Matteo had filled it; swiftly and definitively. Their military strength, once a necessity, now cast a long and looming shadow over the political sphere.

"What happens when the war heroes no longer need war?"

"Who answers to them now?"

"Can love be legislated?"

Foreign correspondence flooded the council chambers.

From neighboring country to the north, Tandara came congratulations laced with veiled concern:

"A triumph, yes, but who now governs the gods?"

From Ositora, a kingdom known for its rigid divine order:

"We honor your peace. But the destruction of a central religion disturbs our alliances. Clarification is requested before we escalate."

And then, Veracchia.

The letter arrived sealed in gold wax, the royal emblem of House Vérrenzi carved deep into its crest. It was signed not by an ambassador, but by the Queen Mother herself.

"We extend both caution and kinship to House Matteo. Rumors have reached our cities of miracles… and martyrdom. There are those in our southern territories who have begun to call themselves the Children of the Spiral Flame. They have burned their Yidali icons. They carry pendants with your triple spiral.

They believe you have awakened the sleeping gods.

We invite Doña Guabancex and El Léon Negro to Veracchia as honored guests… if only to calm a storm before it begins."

A cult, born of whispers and blood, was forming.

And the world was watching.

But for now…

Elena and Niegal had only one destination in mind:

Home.

They returned to Marisiana at dusk, the victorious army trailing behind them. The walkways glowed with lantern light. Bonfires crackled, smoke rising in lazy spirals like prayers of joy. Drums beat again, but this time in celebration, not war.

They hadn't even dismounted before Aurora came running, hand tightly wrapped in Alejandro's. Their smiles, finally unburdened, said everything.

They were together. Finally.

And no one, not god, nor church, nor war, could undo that now.

Elena and Niegal broke into tears the moment they saw Esperanza.

Cradled in Phineus's arms, her silver eyes wide and smiling, she squealed with delight as her parents approached. Her little hands reached out, first to Niegal, then to Elena.

They couldn't kiss her fast enough.

Her cheeks. Her toes. Her tiny hands. Her brow. They kissed every inch, weeping openly, uncaring who saw. Elena clutched her daughter to her chest like she'd just been born again. Niegal whispered prayers of gratitude, his arms encircling both of them.

They were whole.

There would be consequences.

They knew that.

You don't dismantle a religion rooted in empire without backlash. You don't become a symbol without being watched. And you don't rise as legends without someone, somewhere, plotting your fall.

But for tonight…

There was peace.

They walked together, Elena, Niegal, and Esperanza, across the weathered platforms of Marisiana. Faces turned. Smiles bloomed. Kisses landed on cheeks, on hands, on the top of Esperanza's head.

They returned to their little bungalow by the water.

Where they'd once planned war.

Where they'd once dreamed of surviving.

And now, they'd come back victorious.

Elena leaned into Niegal's side, Esperanza babbling in her arms.

Niegal looked at them both, then at the stars overhead.

"Let them come," he murmured.

Elena nodded, a small smile curving her lips. "We are ready."