THE UNBROKEN

Three days passed.

They still couldn't stop.

Not truly.

Not entirely.

Even when their bodies ached with exhaustion. Even when Elena could no longer sit up on her own. Even when Niegal's arms trembled under the weight of his own trembling. Something always pulled them back to each other. Mouths that couldn't stop kissing, hands that roamed without thought, hips that moved on instinct. They slept only in brief moments, curled around each other like they'd freeze to death without touch.

They didn't speak much. There wasn't time. There wasn't clarity.

Only the lion.

Only the serpent.

Only the need.

The sounds from the cottage had grown too loud. Too frequent. Too inhuman.

Neighbors whispered behind their hands, children were ushered quickly away, and some of the older veterans refused to walk near the garden fence. A few claimed they saw the earth pulse beneath the lovers' window, felt the grass turn warm, the soil sigh.

Alejandro, arm still in a sling from the sparring accident, stood at the center of the sanctuary's council. He didn't shout. He didn't rage.

He only said:

"If we do not intervene, we may lose them both to whatever those gods have become."

So it was decided.

The Behikes prepared a desperate ritual. One few had even dared attempt generations. It required three soul-binders, nine elemental oils, and blood willingly given by both serpent-kin and lion-kin. They gathered outside the couple's cottage just before dawn on the fourth day, whispering to the ancestors, casting a triple ring of glyphs around the walls.

The ground shimmered.

A soft hum filled the air, so low it couldn't be heard by mortal ears. Only felt, like a tremor through the ribs.

Inside, Elena stirred.

Something pulled her from her stupor. Her face was wet with sweat and tears. Her body trembled, legs still splayed, her breath caught in tiny, shallow hiccups.

Beside her, Niegal groaned, clutching his own chest as if something inside were clawing at him from within.

"I… I can't," he whispered hoarsely. "Elena, I- "

"I know," she rasped, barely able to lift her hand to stroke his jaw.

The air around them changed.

They both felt it. A quiet coolness. A strange stillness. For the first time in days, the lion did not growl. The serpent did not coil.

Elena gasped.

"I… I think they're… slowing," she whispered.

Niegal pulled her into his lap, trembling as he held her. She was limp with exhaustion, her skin slick and glowing faintly at the tattoos and scars that never truly faded anymore. She clung to him. Not out of lust. Not out of need.

But from terror.

Pure, animal terror.

"I can't do this anymore," she whimpered. "I can't-"

Her voice cracked. Her whole body shook.

Niegal pressed kisses to her hair, then her forehead, then the bridge of her nose. He was crying too. They both were.

Outside the walls, the Behikes continued their ancient chant, summoning the gods to rest, to relinquish their hunger… for now. The ritual circled higher into the ether, wrapping the cottage in a spell that smelled of cedar, smoke, iron, and salt.

The serpent hissed inside her bones, its voice not words but truth:

YOU CHOSE THIS.

YOU ARE MY VESSEL.

I HAVE COME TO CLAIM WHAT IS MINE.

When Elena tried to rise, her knees buckled, unable to stand, chest heaving.

She reached for Niegal, who caught her before she collapsed entirely. She cradled her stomach without realizing it.

The lion stirred in him again, snarling low in his throat, but it softened, as if sedated. He blinked, the glow in his eyes dimming for the first time in days. Sweat poured down his temples.

"They're quiet…" he murmured.

"For now," Elena replied, barely breathing.

They knelt together on the cottage floor, holding each other tightly. Every muscle in their bodies quaked. Their skin was covered in glowing glyphs now- some old, some new- etched into them by the very gods that now slept within.

Niegal buried his face in Elena's shoulder, his body wracked with silent sobs.

"What if I become something I can't come back from?" he whispered.

She kissed his brow. "Then I'll follow you. And drag you back."

They stayed like that, locked in trembling silence.

And outside, the circle glowed bright once more… before slowly fading.

The gods slept.

But not deeply.

Not for long.