THE UNBROKEN

Two days.

Two long, tight-skinned, mana-sick days locked in the suite.

They hadn't left the room once.

The guards remained posted. Food was left in silence. Time blurred. Niegal had clawed the walls once. Elena burned the curtains twice. Neither could sleep for more than a few hours at a time, their bodies restless and wrung-out. They made love once, quick and desperate, but even that had left them more haunted than comforted.

Elena leaned against the far wall now, face pale, her palm pressed to her forehead.

"Something's wrong," she murmured, eyes unfocused.

Niegal turned from where he'd been pacing near the window. "Tell me."

She didn't answer at first. Instead, she walked the room slowly, trailing her fingers along the gilded furniture, the edges of the walls. Her fingertips buzzed.

She stopped.

"There's a relic here," she whispered. "It's hidden. And it's draining us."

Niegal's breath stilled. His chest sigil dimmed, his mana felt… smothered. Smudged. Like wet ash over a fire.

"No wonder we feel like death," he muttered, looking around sharply.

They didn't find it. Whatever was here had been masked with ancient, subtle warding. Siobhan knew what she was doing.

Just as the pressure started to mount toward a breaking point, the door swung open.

Siobhan strode in like she owned the heavens, trailed by four guards with sleek mana rifles and mirrored armor.

"Lovely to see you both up," she said with false sweetness. "I thought we might pay a visit to parliament today. The nobles are very eager to meet the Mother of Storms and the long-lost Matteo heir."

Elena didn't respond.

Niegal growled under his breath.

When they didn't answer, Siobhan's smile dropped. She reached into the folds of her robe… and tossed something onto the bed.

A folded white handkerchief.

Blood red embroidery. A family crest.

Elena moved first, snatching it up, unfolding it with shaking fingers.

Inside… a single curl of soft black hair.

Her heart stopped.

Niegal's breath caught so violently it echoed. The shift nearly overtook him.

"You monster- " Elena began, but Siobhan just raised her hand calmly.

Before she could speak again, a soft sound filled the doorway.

Pitter patter.

A small voice cooed.

Tiny hands clutched the edge of the wall.

And there she was.

Esperanza.

Barefoot, toddling, eyes bright as the moon. Her curls were tousled. She wore a too-fancy little gown that looked like it had been chosen for display, not comfort.

But she ran the moment she saw them.

"Papi!"

Niegal dropped to his knees, arms wide.

She launched into them.

He wrapped her up, burying his face into her hair, sobbing without shame. Elena was beside them instantly, her hands everywhere, checking for bruises, kisses pressed to her daughter's cheek, her neck, her little fingers.

They barely noticed the soldiers stiffen.

Siobhan's voice cut through. "Seize the child."

Niegal looked up, eyes burning silver.

"No."

He raised one hand.

A glowing protective shield snapped into place around himself and Esperanza. Nothing would get through.

"Open fire!" Siobhan barked.

But she was too late.

Elena rose, slowly. Her body glowed. Her scars ignited in blue-white brilliance, wrapping around her arms like wings unfurled.

The blade of Boinayel appeared in her hand.

And La Doña Guabancex awoke.

Wind exploded through the room, blasting the guards off their feet. Thunder cracked like cannonfire. One breath from Elena and lightning struck a guard's chest- instantly disintegrated.

The others scrambled.

Siobhan screamed, "Stop her!"

But the storm had already claimed the air.

With every slash of the blade, wind howled and cut, slicing through the next wave of guards like paper. Elena's eyes glowed, her voice a shout of the old gods.

"YOU WILL PAY FOR STEALING A CHILD OF THE GODS."

She raised the blade and the doors blew off their hinges.

Niegal grabbed Elena's hand, his daughter wrapped tight in his other arm.

They ran.

The estate shook. Rain fell from a cloudless sky. Mana lightning crackled across the horizon.

Outside, Elena stopped… just once.

She looked back at the estate, at the twisted house of glass and power and rot.

And then she rose.

Her body lifted, her hair whipping in the storm she summoned. The blade of Boinayel glowed like a comet.

She screamed, wordless and wild.

And the estate was obliterated.

It cracked, groaned, and collapsed into itself, torn by wind and wrath and divine fury.

When her feet finally touched the earth again, Niegal caught her, still running.

Siobhan clawed her way from the wreckage, one side of her face burned, screaming at the heavens.

"They won't leave Veracchia alive. I swear it."

Night fell gently over the ruined chapel.

The very one they had passed before, vines still curling gently around its broken spire.

They lit a fire. Warmed food. Tended wounds.

Esperanza slept between them on a blanket of Niegal's cloak.

Elena leaned against him, her voice soft as she brushed her fingers through his mane.

"You feel it too, don't you?" she murmured. "The lion… it's still there."

Niegal didn't answer at first.

His hand trembled near his thigh. His eyes glowed faintly even in the dark. His pulse was uneven, wild.

"I can't shift back fully," he finally whispered. "I tried. I tried. Pero like… the beast is closer to the surface now. Like I'm not just a man anymore."

Elena cupped his face. Kissed his temple.

"We don't know what that bite did. Or what you're becoming. But I'm not afraid. Not of you."

She pulled his hand to her chest.

"Please. Make love to me."

Niegal's eyes widened, grief clashing with want.

"I'm not- Elena, what if I hurt you? What if I lose control?"

"You won't," she said. "And if you do, I'll pull you back. Like always."

He shook his head.

But she kissed him again.

She didn't understand it yet; why her pulse raced when the lion stirred, why the thought of his claws now warmed her instead of chilled her. But something inside her was changing, too. Something old. Something sacred.

And though he refused her that night, it wasn't out of fear.

It was reverence.

Because something had changed. In her. In him.

The beast stirred not just in rage, but in longing. It wanted her. Worshiped her. And he didn't know if he should be terrified… or grateful.

The gods were still watching.

And their storm had only just begun.