THE UNBROKEN

The Children of the Storm and Lion gave the small family a few precious days of rest at La Señora Behike's gentle insistence.

And they were so grateful for it.

For a while, there were no prophecies, no Inquisition shadows, no betrayals waiting to spring. Just the three of them: Elena, Niegal, and Esperanza, getting lost in each other.

Esperanza walked stronger with every passing day. Her little legs stumbled less. Her laughter rang out more. Her curious hands reached into every nook of their new cottage, dragging found treasures back to her parents with a triumphant grin. Elena watched her with the quiet joy of a mother allowed to simply be.

She'd sit by the fire with a hot cup of coffee, posture finally relaxed, fingers wrapped around her mug like it was the warmest thing on earth. She wore no corset, no heavy coat. Her curly hair fell in waves, loose and wild.

Niegal was much the same.

In this sanctuary, the beast inside him stirred less and listened more. The mana around the village hummed with reverence. And Niegal had begun to understand… his strength wasn't just force. It was feeling. It was instinct. His magic ran deeper now, roots tangled in a wild inheritance older than names.

At night, when their baby slept curled in her blanket, with soft breath, tiny fists, they laughed in bed. About the road. About how cranky they'd both been. About how stubborn Elena had been during those last days in Veracchia.

Elena's giggles were like honey. Niegal's heart panged with so much love, he thought he might burst.

One night, it became too much.

Elena was standing by Esperanza's door, smiling to herself as she watched their daughter sleep.

Niegal felt it rise in his chest.

The pull.

The change.

Quietly, shirtless, he stalked across the room. His silver eyes gleamed in the low firelight, and a soft growl escaped his lips.

Elena didn't move. Just smiled, knowingly. Wickedly.

And then he swept her into his arms.

A low yelp escaped her lips as he tossed her gently onto their bed. She barely had time to react before Niegal hovered over her, taller, broader, his werelion form slipping into place with quiet, sacred power.

His claws pressed gently into her wrists, pinning her in place. Not to hurt, just to hold. His fur brushed her skin like velvet. He kissed her throat, then dragged his tongue across her neck, tasting her.

She gasped, and he grinned- low and dangerous.

He undressed her with his teeth. Slowly. Devotionally.

Every little squirm, every moan she gave, he drank it in like it was his only medicine. She tried reaching for him, but he growled and pinned her again. Not quite gentle, but never cruel.

His body, massive and wild, covered hers like a living altar.

When he entered her, she cried out- already aching, already hungry.

And she begged. For more. And more. As if he might vanish. As if this might only be a dream.

He wasn't gentle.

But he took his time.

Every thrust, every movement, was a vow. Mine, mine, mine.

He flipped her, claiming her again from behind, her back arching in welcome. Elena moaned, shivering as he licked up her spine.

And then… his teeth hovered over her skin.

Right before her scars.

She whispered, trembling. "Do it."

And so he did.

He bit her. Gently, but deep.

She shattered beneath him, again and again, until she barely remembered her name.

He flipped her once more, needing to see her, needing to love her fully. One final time.

She smiled up at him, blushing, delirious in pleasure.

"I love you," he growled, over and over.

"Mi León-" she gasped, again and again.

When they came together, thunder shook the cottage, rattling the windows. Niegal roared like a god, Elena clutching his mane, burying her face in his fur, screaming his name.

Lion and woman. Storm and roar.

Their eyes met, and they smiled.

"Mine," he whispered against her ear, his teeth nipping her skin.

"Always," she purred back, voice wrecked with bliss.

They fell asleep tangled like that, limbs, breath, hearts.

Somewhere in the night, Niegal returned to his human form, but even in dreams, he clung to her.

To them, their love was more than just husband and wife. More than just beast and storm.

It was sacred.

Unbreakable.

Unconditional.

Somewhere across the quiet village, Señora Behike sat before her fire, eyes glowing with quiet magic.

She smiled.

The Lion and the Storm were truly here.

And the world would never be the same again.

She must send word… and soon.