THE UNBROKEN

Elena was drifting.

Not in the void.

Not in the dreaming place.

But deep beneath the sea.

Endless blue above her. Endless black below.

The water wasn't cold. Nor warm. It simply was. Like time, like grief.

She floated there, motionless, suspended in the weight of death.

Her scars still glowed. Bright, crackling with stormlight. They burned gently, as though marked by a god's hand, but they no longer hurt.

She could breathe.

She should've panicked.

But she didn't.

She felt empty. Hollowed. As if her soul had been scraped raw and left behind with her last scream. She didn't know if she was dreaming, or dead.

"I hope you're okay, mi amor," she whispered to the dark. "Tell Esperanza to wait for me. Just a little longer. If I can come back…"

After some time, the current shifted.

The skies above darkened, even this deep, the light dimmed.

Thunder rumbled, low and smothered by the sea.

She felt it before she saw it.

The pressure. The power.

Then, movement.

A shadow rose from the abyss, miles wide. Serpentine. Trembling the water around her like the earth before a quake.

Then came the glow.

Violet eyes.

A mouth leaking molten gold.

Lightning cracking along its scaled spine.

A serpent. No- the serpent.

Ancient. Divine. Terrible.

Elena's breath caught as the water itself boiled around her without scalding her. The beast opened its jaws, lava spilling from its throat, burning bright without touching her.

A god.

A judge.

A keeper of doors between life and death.

She bowed.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for letting me save him. My life is nothing without him. Without her."

The serpent said nothing. Only watched.

Its glowing gaze pinned her in place. Judging her, weighing her, peeling back her soul.

She looked up again. Bold. Defiant.

"Could you show me the way home?" she asked. "Please?"

A single tear slipped from her eye, lost in the water.

"I'll give up anything," she murmured. "Anything. Just let me return to them."

The serpent moved closer.

Lava trickled from its mouth, lighting the deep like a lantern, yet still, Elena did not burn. The heat kissed her, curled around her like a womb. Its gaze bore into her, and for a moment, she understood. It had not come to destroy.

It had come to choose.

A sudden tightness wrapped around her left arm.

A tentacle? No- a massive coil, smooth and cold and ancient. It gripped her, then launched upward.

The sea rushed around her.

Up, up, up-

Until she broke the surface.

Her lungs gasped-

And then it happened.

The serpent shrank, impossibly so, coiling tight like vapor, like storm-mist.

They stared at Elena just for a moment-

And slid down her open, gasping mouth, her eyes growing wide.

Slick. Heavy.

Alive.

Her eyes flew open-

Niegal stirred.

His body still ached, his mind fogged with pain and aches, but something changed.

He felt her.

Elena.

Beside him.

Then, water.

She lurched upright, a horrible retching sound tearing from her throat as she gagged, choking on sea water. Her entire body was soaked, hair plastered to her back, lips pale.

"Elena?" he rasped, struggling to sit. His bandaged arm was already reaching for her. "Elena!"

She turned away, coughing so violently it bent her body forward, sea water pouring from her mouth like she'd nearly drowned. Her hands felt around her throat, as if trying to feel something that wasn't there.

He reached for her, ignoring the pain and wounds reopening, and pulled her to him.

"You're here, you're here- gods, I thought we lost you-"

Her fingers brushed his cheek. Trembling. "I'm here," she rasped, between coughs. "I'm- "

Then she vomited seawater again. He helped her through it, cradling her head, whispering soft things into her hair, his own tears falling freely. She was ice-cold, and yet she burned with power.

When he looked down-

He saw it.

Her left arm, the bandages unraveling.

Etched across her bicep was a fresh mark: a serpent, coiled in mid-motion, its eyes violet, its open maw spilling golden lava into nothingness.

Alive.

Branded by godhood.

By something older than gods.

"Elena…" he choked. "What did you do?"

She didn't answer.

She squeezed his hand once, shuddering, and slipped into unconsciousness.

He cradled her close.

Weeping, shaking, unable to stop.

"Sleep, mi amor, I've got you. I've got you."

The healers rushed in, hands already alight with spells, but he raised a hand, voice fierce through the tears.

"Quiet. Let her sleep."

Then, with a soft grunt, his own body collapsed beside hers.

He had held on only for her.

Now that she was safe, alive… he could finally rest.

They curled into each other without thinking, as if drawn by the same star.

Their breath came as one.

Peaceful.

Alive.

The tent fell to utter silence.

One of the healers dropped to their knees.

Another let the tinctures fall from their hands.

A third ran into the camp, screaming at the top of their lungs:

"La Doña! La Doña has returned from death!"