THE UNBROKEN

Port Clairy burned.

Columns of smoke spiraled into the sky, casting ash across the water like snow. The detonation had rocked the harbor hours earlier, shaking ships from their moorings, blowing windows out from government buildings, and disintegrating a dozen coastal homes in an instant. No one knew the source. But everyone felt it. Raw, unnatural, godless.

Inside the marble walls of Parliament, chaos reigned.

Delegates shouted across rows of golden chairs, faces red, voices shaking in fear and anger. The Speaker slammed his gavel fruitlessly while aides and guards scrambled for order.

"Mana traps don't just ignite on their own!" one delegate spat. "This was a targeted attack!"

"By whom?" another countered, pale and trembling. "No rebel faction has that kind of power- except the Inquisition."

Murmurs turned to panic.

"You're suggesting the Church attacked a government extraction vessel?!"

"I'm suggesting Siobhan's hands are dirtier than we ever imagined-!"

"Blasphemy!"

"It's divine punishment! For harboring heretics! Matteo's witch whore and their illegitimate offspring-"

That's when the body hit the floor.

A bloodied torso, half a guard, ribs shattered open like broken gates, crashed into the center of the chamber. The sound was wet. Heavy.

Silence fell.

Then came the growl.

From the arched shadows above, something watched.

Silver eyes, gleaming and inhuman, narrowed.

They didn't see him move.

One moment, a blur.

The next, the Speaker was gone.

Snatched from his pedestal like prey by a beast twice his size. A massive clawed hand wrapped around his collar. He barely had time to scream.

Then-

Crunch.

Niegal's teeth sank into his neck. He tore through flesh and bone with a sickening snap, arterial blood spraying across the white marble floor like paint. The Speaker's limbs twitched violently. Then fell still.

Chaos exploded.

Screams. Running. Mana spells firing wild. Guards drawing rifles. But none fast enough.

Niegal, no longer man, no longer even lion, was something else. He moved through them like wind through wheat. He gutted a senator with one swipe of his claws, impaled another on broken railing. A flame-caster tried to scream a spell, but Niegal tackled him through a stained-glass window, dragging him back in half.

He didn't speak.

He didn't roar.

He simply destroyed.

One delegate crawled for the door. Niegal yanked him back by the leg and ripped him in two. Blood soaked the gold carpets, pooling in the shallow grooves of the chamber floor. White marble cracked beneath bare, bloodied paws.

By the time the killing stopped, there was no one left.

Only piles.

Bodies. Bones. Red mist clinging to the walls like fog.

Niegal stood at the center of the slaughter, his chest heaving, his claws dripping.

He didn't remember it.

He didn't have to.

The silence told him everything.

Then-

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

The sound of heels on marble.

Niegal turned, the beast still not fully buried.

Inquisitors lined the walls now, rifles raised. Mana-charged. Ready to fire.

And at their center, she emerged.

Siobhan.

She glided into the room with a grace that felt rehearsed, theatrical. Her robes were red as wine, lips painted to match. Her white gloves were spotless.

She looked at the massacre.

Then at Niegal.

She gasped. A hand to her mouth. "Oh my," she whispered, voice thick with mockery. "Look at this mess, my son."

Niegal growled, blood still dripping from his fangs.

Siobhan walked closer.

Closer.

Then without warning—

Steel flashed.

She stabbed him in the gut.

The blade slid between his ribs. Not deep enough to kill. But deep enough to drop him.

He fell to one knee, breath catching, claws scratching marble.

Siobhan leaned down, her smile a knife in of itself.

"Seize him," she said, still smiling. "And bring him to the dungeons."

Boots approached. Mana cuffs clicked open.

"He stands accused of high treason. The murder of Parliamentary officials." Her voice dropped to a hush, cruel and almost maternal. "And the deaths of Elena and Esperanza Matteo."

Niegal tried to speak, but blood spilled from his lips.

He met her eyes.

And that was when he realized-

She knew.

She had known all along.

The last thing he heard before the world went dark was Siobhan's laughter.

Sweet.

Delighted.

And utterly without mercy.