THE UNBROKEN

Their cottage still stood, tucked away behind the cathedral, nestled within the sanctuary's inner grounds.

Elena hadn't set foot there in nearly a month. It took her a week and a half since returning from death to even look at the winding stone path leading up to its dark wooden frame. Niegal never rushed her. He only offered his arm and said gently, "When you're ready."

When they reached the front door, it had already been flung open.

Señora Behike was waiting with her hands clasped, watching as her two miracles crossed the threshold together. "The Children of the Storm and the Lion have restored what was broken," she explained with a reverent nod. "The Inquisition desecrated this space when they fled. But now it's yours again."

Elena's breath caught when they reached Esperanza's room.

Painted across the ceiling were blood-red hibiscus flowers and white roses, each petal kissed by loving hands, trailing around a sky-blue mural of clouds and soft suns. She reached out and touched one with trembling fingers, tracing the swirl of a bloom.

She almost broke.

Niegal stood quietly in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His face was tired but soft, as if some immense burden had been lifted from his spine.

He didn't say a word.

He didn't need to.

That night, the armies celebrated.

A great bonfire roared in the central square, its sparks racing toward the stars. Flags were flown. Songs were sung. Wine was poured. Dancers filled the dirt-cleared space while musicians played old songs, war songs, homecoming songs. One long table bore bread, salted meat, roasted root vegetables, and sweets meant to honor the dead and nourish the living.

Aurora had taken Esperanza for the evening. Though her own grief over Phineus still hollowed her chest, she smiled genuinely when the little girl called Alejandro "Tío" and tugged his curls with gleeful abandon.

Alejandro had tears in his eyes when he said, "It's good to hear her laugh."

Niegal nudged Elena gently. "Come," he said with a glint in his eye. "I think we've earned a little reprieve, no?"

It was the first time in weeks she'd seen that mischievous spark return to his face. Elena gave him a slow smile, and when he offered his hand, she took it without hesitation.

They walked hand-in-hand into the firelight, their shadows stretching long behind them. The crowd fell silent as they passed. One by one, they turned. Some bowing, others kneeling.

Whispers rippled like waves through the night air:

"The Storm and the Lion have returned."

"They walk among us."

"They are changed… touched by gods."

Elena didn't speak.

She only held Niegal's hand tighter.

And then, by pure coincidence or divine timing, the musicians began to play the song.

The one they had danced to after their victory against the Church.

Niegal froze, blinking. "Do you hear that?"

Elena tried to protest- "Your back, your shoulder- " but she felt it.

The serpent within her uncoiled slowly, knowingly, and whispered from deep within her soul:

Embrace your lion.

Niegal set down Marohu, now his storm-slick walking stick, and turned toward her.

"May I?" he asked.

She nodded, lips parting in surprise.

They danced.

Slowly. Awkwardly at first, his body stiff, her vision still blurred, but together. Her hands on his shoulders. His arms around her waist. Every movement was a memory, a promise, a prayer. The snaked coiled, practically humming in joy.

The music swelled.

The crowd hushed.

Some wept openly. Others closed their eyes and simply listened to the rhythm of two souls surviving, rising, loving.

When the song ended, Niegal tilted Elena's chin with a single finger and kissed her tenderly. The people cheered. Some dropped to their knees. Others folded their hands in prayer.

And just like so many moons ago… they laughed, fingers tangled, and rushed home.

The cottage was warm with candlelight.

By the time they reached their bedroom, their clothes had begun to fall away—piece by piece, as if undressing the fear and distance between them. Niegal kissed her neck slowly, reverently, his breath trembling against her skin.

Elena reached for him, pulling him close. Their mouths met in the dark.

The touches were slow, careful. They had new scars. New aches. Their bodies weren't the same—but they were alive.

And they were theirs.

For the first time in weeks, Elena laughed. Really laughed. Niegal paused above her, resting on one elbow, staring down at her as if the sun had risen just for him.

"I missed that sound," he whispered.

"I missed you," she replied, pulling him down into another kiss.

Something stirred in him, deep, primal.

The lion purred.

Not with hunger, but with homecoming.

But he would focus on that in the morning.

Tonight?

Tonight was hers.

They made love with reverence.

With wonder.

With tears.

He was still too tender for full intimacy, so Elena took her time worshiping him. She whispered blessings over each scar. Kissed his skin as if claiming it anew. And when she took all of him into her mouth, it wasn't lust that shone in her eyes, but devotion. Hunger for life. For him.

She swallowed every drop, savoring it like a sacrament. She licked her lips as if tasting hope.

To her?

It was the most delicious thing she could devour.

And for him?

It was redemption.

They fell into each other's arms afterward, tangled in sheets, warm skin pressed to warm skin. Fingers ran through curls. Lips brushed temples. They whispered "I love you" again and again, like a mantra, like a vow.

Like a prayer that might anchor them to this world just a little longer.

And when sleep finally came, they curled around each other.

The lion purred.

The serpent hissed softly in reply.