THE UNBROKEN

Far across the Sea of Bones, the shores of Veracchia gleamed gold in the dawn.

The air smelled like strange spices and salt, a heavier kind of sea brine than the waters near Marisiana. Foreign gulls cried above the harbor, and flags in unfamiliar hues flapped against the rising sun.

And in the middle of it all stood a child- small, curly-haired, wrapped in a fine woolen shawl that didn't belong to her.

Esperanza.

Only five syllables old to the world, barely past 16 months, but her eyes held galaxies. Eyes that now blinked with sleep and confusion.

She had not cried at first.

Too shocked. Too exhausted.

But when she saw the rows of gilded towers and realized that not a single heartbeat nearby belonged to Mami or Papi, she began to scream.

A sound like no other. Sharp, spiraling, ancient.

"MAMI! PAPI! MAMI-!"

A hooded figure knelt by her side, trying to shush her, brushing her curls back from her damp forehead.

"Dormire, pequeña," they whispered, voice tight and clipped. A sleeping spell, old and precise, danced off their tongue.

But the child only blinked, narrowed her glowing silver eyes, and swatted the magic aside with a tiny wave of her hand. The incantation fizzled in midair. A gust of wind whooshed from her feet.

The figure stared. So young… and already repelling spells?

This was no ordinary child.

They moved quickly after that, weaving through Veracchia's winding alleys, each lined in fine stone and studded with mana lamps carved like flowers. Overhead, archways laced with vines and glyphs connected buildings like bridges. The rooftops glittered with gold-trimmed mosaics, and the doorways were etched with sunburst sigils that pulsed like heartbeats.

Still the child cried, her voice high and trembling.

"Mami! I want Mami!"

The cloaked figure finally turned sharply, ducking under a carved overhang into an underground corridor, its mouth flanked by statues of winged serpents.

There, waiting in the shadows, was a mana car- sleek, obsidian black with crimson trim.

One quick knock, and the side window rolled down.

The face inside was sharp, noble, and lined by years of secrets.

A woman. Silver hair in a tight bun, skin the color of light bronze, and dusted with faint white freckles. Her eyes were a cold silver. Piercing, calculating. She raised a single brow.

Without a word, the cloaked figure handed the child through the window. Their hands lingered—hesitated—as if some part of them didn't want to let go.

"She wouldn't sleep," they said bitterly. "Even the simple spells bounce off her."

Esperanza squirmed the moment she was lifted, her face furious in the way only children can be.

She looked the strange woman in the eyes and screamed:

"WHERE IS MY MAMI AND PAPI?!"

The windows shattered.

All of them.

Mana glass splintered outward like frozen rain. Sparks flared. A few pedestrians nearby shouted and ducked.

The old woman didn't flinch. She simply raised a hand, conjuring a pale-gold shielding spell to protect them from the explosion.

Then she smiled.

"Yes," she murmured to herself. "Of course. My son's child would be pure vinegar when upset."

She held the girl closer. Esperanza pounded her small fists against her shoulder, purple-green magic crackling at her fingertips.

The car pulled away smoothly, hovering an inch above the ground, tires untouched by earth.

Esperanza's sobs echoed, softer now, but fierce. Her small, shivering voice still cried out for her parents.

And as the car disappeared into the tunnels beneath the city, the last thing to vanish was the sigil etched on its rear panel:

A silver lion, encircled by lightning and triple spirals.

The Crest of House Matteo.