THE UNBROKEN

They made camp in one of the many overgrown ruins scattered across the Veracchian wilds: a crumbling cathedral, half-swallowed by ivy, its great bell tower cracked but proud, like an old sentinel still watching over a broken land.

Phineus' crew, experienced and wordless, cast wards as though it were second nature- salt circles, mana barriers, elemental cloaks. Their magic shimmered against the dark like oil on water, fading into the woods. No one trusted silence here anymore.

Inside the cathedral's husk, Elena and Niegal sat close, Esperanza curled against her mother's chest, asleep and soft and safe. Phineus paced, then sat, then rose again, boots echoing on stone.

They talked for hours. Low voices, sharp tension.

"She pointed them to our home," Niegal murmured, fists clenched.

"She smiled while doing it," Elena added bitterly.

They told Phineus everything, from the betrayal of the Children of the Storm and Lion, to the night Elena nearly died of mana sickness, to Esperanza's miraculous healing touch. Phineus, jaw tight, took it all in. His eyes never strayed from the sleeping child in Elena's arms.

Just as they finally agreed to rest, letting their bodies sag beneath the weight of the last two weeks-

CRACK!

A sudden clap of thunder. Not natural. Not born of Elena's power.

A flash of light, so sharp it seemed to sear the sky.

And in that single, fleeting glimpse… They saw them.

Riders.

Nearly a dozen. Clad in the Church's crimson, galloping hard and fast, shadows slicing through the trees.

"Positions!" barked Phineus.

Weapons were drawn. Shields cast. Niegal's body twitched, already halfway to transformation.

Elena stepped forward.

Not bolting. Not foolish.

Stepping.

Deliberate. Certain.

"Mi León," she said, her voice low, calm, terribly clear. "Let them take me."

Niegal turned, as if he hadn't heard right.

"What?"

"I can draw them in. Just long enough. You and Phineus flank them from behind. I'll hold them in place."

"No," he said, instantly, eyes wild. "Absolutely not."

Her face didn't waver. She was pale but set like stone.

"We have to get to the coast. We don't have time for a standoff. If this is the only way- "

"No!" he roared, louder now. "You are not bait. You are not expendable."

"I never said I was," she replied, evenly. "But I am the storm. You and I both know I can take the hit."

He reached for her. Claws half-shifted, shaking.

"If they touch you," he said, voice cracking, "if they hurt you… I'll become something no one can stop."

His words faltered.

"I won't be a man anymore."

Elena's breath caught.

She took his face in both hands.

"I'm not asking you to be only a man," she whispered. "I'm asking you to trust me. Trust us. You think I want this? I don't. But we don't get to have perfect choices anymore. We get to survive."

Niegal's eyes shimmered silver.

And that was when it happened.

THUNK.

The harpoon struck from the shadows.

Elena's body jolted forward, the metal piercing through her shoulder like a cruel bloom of steel and pain.

She didn't scream.

She choked, a gasp full of blood, and dropped to her knees.

"Elena!" Niegal's voice cracked across the world.

Her eyes never left his as she fell to the ground, blood gushing from the wound.

Then…

The Lion broke free.

He didn't run.

He didn't speak.

He unleashed.

A blur of golden fury tore through the trees. Claws ripped. Teeth gnashed. He didn't fight. He slaughtered.

One rider screamed and was silenced mid-breath, cleaved in half by a single swipe. Another was thrown into a tree so hard his bones cracked like dead bark. Blood painted the grass, the stones, the altar ruins. Niegal was wrath made flesh.

Phineus dropped to his knees beside Elena, hands already slick with blood as he pressed cloth against the wound.

"Stay with me! Come on, Elena, stay with me!"

Her eyes fluttered.

She whispered something he couldn't hear.

"I've got you," he said, choking back tears. "I've got both of you."

Esperanza, somehow silent until now, let out a hiccupping sob and clung to her mother's hand.

And then-

The Lion returned.

Niegal emerged from the forest, tail lashing, soaked in blood. His silver eyes were wild, but locked on her. On them.

He dropped to her side as the shift began. Fur receding, muscle shrinking, fangs retracting. The man returned.

His hands- human now, bloodied- pressed against her wound. Mana flared green-gold, pulsing between them like a second heartbeat.

"Please," he whispered. "Not like this."

The metal slipped out from her shoulder with a sickening clunk.

Elena winced. Her breath rattled. But her hand, weak and trembling, rose to cup his jaw.

"Still here," she rasped. "Mi León… I'm still here."

There was no time for rest.

They rode hard, bleeding and breathless, toward the coast.

Phineus knew someone- an old smuggler who owed the House Matteo his life- who could get them off Veracchian soil.

Elena sagged against Niegal in the saddle, barely holding on. Her eyes were half-lidded, her skin fevered.

But she clutched his hand.

And he clutched hers back with bloodied fingers and shaking resolve.

His voice broke with every whisper, but still, he said it.

"I've got you. I won't let go. I'm here. I'm here."

"I've got you."