THE UNBROKEN

That same night, as Elena slept curled into his chest, Niegal dreamed.

It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't soft.

He stood in the center of a vast battlefield. The sky above was dark, bruised violet and bleeding red at the edges. Ash and smoke choked the air. All around him- bodies. Warriors, beasts, creatures he couldn't name. Blood soaked into the broken soil like ink spilled on ancient parchment. The scent of death hung heavy; he knew it too well.

And then, movement.

On a ridge just beyond the torn-up field, a massive silhouette emerged from the haze.

A lion. Black-maned. Immense.

Its silver eyes, identical to his own, glowed through the smoke like stars seen through fog. The lion stood still, regal, powerful. Watching.

Niegal took a step forward, then another, stumbling over bones and burned-out armor to climb toward him.

The lion didn't move, even when Niegal dropped to one knee before him.

They sat like that for a long time. Beast and man. Brothers. Mirrors.

And then the lion spoke.

"The most important thing is family, son of the House of Matteo."

The voice was deep, older than the bones beneath the earth, laced with grief and the weight of unhealed memory.

Niegal said nothing. His body remained still, but his mind was racing.

The lion stood and stretched, his mane rippling with power. Then he began to circle Niegal slowly, growling low with the sound of a storm rolling over a distant sea.

"Protect the bloodline. Protect the storm."

Still, Niegal said nothing. He listened. He waited.

The lion finally stopped, nose to nose with him now.

"You made your choice in this life. Good. Now you can do what I never had the chance to."

Niegal's brows drew tight. His voice, when it came, was low. Steady.

"And what was it you failed to do?"

The lion bared his fangs, a growl rumbling from his chest. Not anger, but anguish.

"Simply put.. I let her die. And so now I wait. I wait until we can correct the wrongs of the bloodline."

The vision shifted.

Now they stood inside a quiet tent, bathed in golden lamplight. A man and a woman lay tangled in each other, their bodies close, intimate. Holy.

And the man- he wasn't just a man.

He was in lion form.

"They want me, Sotomatteo," the woman whispered, her voice trembling. "If I go, our people will live."

He shook his head, over and over, whimpering like a wounded beast. "No."

But by morning she was gone.

The dream shifted again.

A funeral pyre. He was holding the torch.

Sotomatteo stood there, surrounded by blade-bearing soldiers. A crown of iron on his head. A broken man, forced to burn his mate with his own hands.

His sobs cut through the vision like thunder.

Then another horror.

A helmet rolled across blood-soaked ground. Inside: his son's head. A teenager.

Yidali, watching, screamed so loud the very air seemed to break. Her chest caved in with grief, literally burst apart. Her body turned to ash where she stood.

Sotomatteo roared, his anguish shaking the realm of dreams.

Niegal blinked as the battlefield returned. The lion beside him wept silently, tears streaking his golden fur.

"I failed them. My wife. My son. I failed."

He couldn't move. Could barely breathe. But still, Niegal listened.

The lion looked at him again. A little smaller now. A little older.

"We are vessels. Spirits of family. Of pride. Of love that burns without condition. That protects without mercy."

Then he smirked through the pain, through the past.

"I know for a fact you can do what I could not."

He leaned in, nose to nose again.

"Now, GO."

Niegal gasped awake.

The morning light flooded their room.

He sat up, his chest rising and falling, silver eyes wide. He rubbed his face once, collecting himself. The dream lingered—he could still smell the smoke.

Then he heard it.

Laughter.

Elena's voice, soft and warm, teasing their daughter. Esperanza's giggle rang like bells in the hallway.

Niegal moved before he even thought about it-

he bolted from the bed, bare feet silent on the wood floors.

He caught her in the hall. Elena turned at the last second, startled, and then laughing as Niegal swept her up into his arms and kissed her so deeply her knees buckled.

His arms around her. His lips hungry.

A low, rumbling growl curled in his throat.

Esperanza squealed with joy, clapping her hands.

And Elena? She just smiled against his lips.

Her Lion. Her love.

Always.