THE UNBROKEN

They lay curled together, cloaked in silence, as the sea whispered its endless lullaby against the cliffs.

Niegal slept with his face buried in Elena's shoulder, the tension in his broad body only just beginning to ease. But even in sleep, tears still tracked down his cheeks. Silent, unrelenting, soul-deep.

Elena held him close.

She didn't speak. She didn't move.

She only cried quietly with him.

Because the guilt had started to rot her from the inside too.

The guilt of surviving.

The guilt of leading them into a trap.

The guilt of being a mother, a warrior, a storm… and still somehow not enough to stop it all.

But here, beneath the stars and the saltwind, wrapped in Niegal's arms and sorrow, she didn't try to be strong. She simply let herself be. Broken. Grieving. Sacred.

Eventually, their breaths fell into rhythm.

Sleep took them together.

They floated first in the void.

No sound. No time. Just weightlessness. Peace.

And then-

They were standing side by side on a beach bathed in golden sunlight, warm waves licking their bare feet. The sky above was cloudless. The sea stretched endless and serene.

The breeze blew sweet and wild.

A woman stood ahead, knee-deep in the water.

Her skin shimmered like night warmed by firelight. Her black curls billowed around her like a living halo, caught in the wind. She wore a simple grass skirt and a white linen wrap across her chest. Barefoot. Beautiful.

And pregnant. Gloriously, powerfully so.

She turned as they approached, her eyes deep as oceans, her smile radiant and knowing.

Elena gasped and dropped to her knees.

"Atabey," she breathed. "Your children greet you."

Niegal, too, lowered himself in reverence, stunned by the power that rolled from the goddess like waves.

But Atabey only laughed softly, her voice like running riverwater.

"Rise, my children. I have no need for kneeling today. Only your ears, and your hearts."

They stood.

The wind picked up, tugging at their hair, brushing sand over their skin like a blessing.

Atabey walked toward them, serene and strong, and took Niegal's large, calloused hands in hers. She looked directly into his eyes, into the deepest parts of him, and spoke with unwavering tenderness.

"You are not a failure."

Niegal's lip trembled. His shoulders shook.

She pressed his palm to her rounded belly. "You are the only man who has ever truly protected Elena and your precious daughter. You've never once stopped loving them. Never once abandoned them. Never once let the beast make you cruel."

Her smile turned proud.

"You're a damn good man, Niegal Matteo."

That was what broke him.

He dropped to his knees and wept, openly and without shame, his forehead pressed to her belly. Elena knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around his shaking frame, holding him as if the world might shatter again if she didn't.

Atabey cupped both their faces with her storm-calloused hands.

"There is no shame in breaking," she whispered. "Even storms break. That's how the land remembers to heal."

She kissed each of them, once on the forehead, and stepped back with a grin.

Then she pointed at Elena.

"Expect a gift to arrive soon."

Her hand fell back to her belly, cradling it with joy.

"Life gives when you least expect it. Be ready."

The waves surged suddenly higher, wrapping around their ankles, and the vision began to dissolve in shimmering gold.

Elena awoke first.

Niegal's head was still cradled in her lap, his face peaceful now. He stirred slowly, his eyes fluttering open, soft silver and wide.

They looked at each other.

And cried again. But this time, not from despair.

From something lighter. Something holy.

"I'm here," Elena whispered, brushing the tears from his face.

"I'm here for you," Niegal murmured back, pressing their foreheads together. "You're never alone. Ever."

Their lips met in a kiss that wasn't desperate or rushed.

It was grounding.

It was home.

Above them, the wind whispered through the cliffside wildflowers.

And the sea, endless and alive, held their grief, their love, and their unspoken promise:

They would survive this.