Cheers rang across the scorched canyon, reverberating through the broken bones of war.
The Church's battalion had been annihilated.
Whoops and hollers echoed beneath the blood-orange sky, the rebel army triumphant, sunburned and ragged, but breathing. Alive. Victorious.
Alejandro moved through the haze of dust and smoke, his hawk Azura circling overhead. Near the western slope, he found Phineus among the older soldiers, bloodied, bruised, and grinning.
The men clapped the young commander on the back, their cheers louder than ever.
Alejandro slowed as he approached. Their eyes met across the distance.
No cocky smirk this time.
Only pride.
Phineus nodded, his jaw set, eyes gleaming with hardened resolve. He had led a platoon by himself and lived. Alejandro's heart swelled in his chest. He smiled, wide and unguarded.
But not all hearts were at ease.
Niegal stood motionless.
His sword dripped blood.
But the cheers around him dulled, muffled beneath a rising roar… a vibration in his chest. A terrible knowing.
Something was wrong.
Then it came.
A cry.
Soft at first. Threaded with wind and sand. But unmistakable.
A child's cry. Echoing from stone to stone, cutting through the victory like glass.
His child.
Niegal's silver eyes flared.
Before anyone could speak, he was already running.
The wind howled as he tore across the ridge, boots pounding against scorched rock, grit biting at his face. His long hair streamed behind him, cloak whipping like a banner.
His heart thrashed against his ribs.
No, no, please…
Behind him, soldiers exchanged glances. Then they followed. Silent, grim, knowing.
The cry grew louder.
Higher.
Desperate.
Niegal didn't stop. Didn't breathe.
He reached the mouth of the sanctuary cavern and slid inside, breath ragged, chest heaving.
And there she was-
Esperanza.
Safe.
In Aurora's arms, red-faced and wailing, but whole.
Niegal exhaled. A prayer, shattered and full of relief, escaped his lips.
But then he smelled it.
Smoke.
He turned-
And saw her.
Elena lay just inside the cavern, surrounded by cracked stone and scorched moss.
Her arms were limp.
Her body still.
The tips of her fingers were blackened, pulsing with raw mana burns. Her arms, where her spiral scars once glowed, was charred and weeping. Bone poked through her fingertips and fore arms. The cave walls themselves were still trembling, the echoes of the spellwork etched in the air.
The sealing glyphs had nearly torn her apart.
And there, half-buried in the earth where she'd fallen, was something impossible.
A blade.
Its obsidian edge shimmered with divine heat, the length etched in ancestral script that pulsed with cleansing rain. The hilt bore a familiar crest—House Matteo, crowned with lightning and flame.
Niegal fell to his knees beside her.
His hands hovered helplessly.
"Elena…" he whispered.
She didn't move.
The Behike knelt beside her, checking her pulse with shaking hands. Her voice was a whisper.
"She summoned it."
Niegal blinked, stunned.
"What?"
"Not consciously. But her soul… her bloodline… they called it forth. The blade of Boinayel."
Niegal stared at the weapon. Rain sizzled softly where it touched the stone, though no clouds hung above them. It was ancient. Alive.
And she had brought it here.
To protect them all.
To shield their daughter.
To hold the line.
And she had paid the price.
Niegal's hands trembled as he touched her burned shoulder. His composure cracked like dry earth.
"I failed her," he choked. "I'm El Léon Negro. I was supposed to protect her- " His voice broke.
"I was supposed to protect her."
His men reached the cavern's edge and saw.
Niegal on his knees.
La Doña Guabancex lying motionless.
The newborn blade.
And something broke in them, too.
Some began to weep.
Others fell to one knee, heads bowed.
A few prayed aloud, invoking gods both old and forgotten.
No one moved.
Because they understood.
This wasn't just loss.
This was sacrifice.
The Behike placed her hand over Niegal's.
"She still breathes."
He flinched.
"She's not gone," the old woman said softly. "But she walks the veil. And only the storm can call her back."
Niegal closed his eyes.
His lips found Elena's forehead.
And as the wind circled the entrance, rustling moss and prayer ribbons alike, Niegal whispered:
"Come back to us, mi estrella. I am nothing without you."
His tears hit her skin like holy water.
The Blade of Boinayel shimmered beside them, rain pooling beneath its edge.
Somewhere far above, thunder cracked.