The rain fell soft and steady over the hold of Arenavida, more gentle than storm, as if the gods themselves wept in joy.
Elena recovered quickly, much to Niegal's profound relief. By the third day, the fever was gone. The tremors had vanished. Her footsteps, though still careful, no longer faltered.
She could walk again, unassisted. Whole.
And she could not stop kissing Esperanza.
Every time she looked at her daughter, her heart threatened to burst. Elena pressed kisses to her curls, to her tiny toes, to her downy cheeks. Over and over. As if trying to memorize her all over again.
Niegal never left her side.
The two-month-old infant nestled into her mother with wide, gleaming silver eyes. She smiled often, enchanted, radiant. Elena wept quietly the first time she saw it.
"Your smile," Niegal whispered, pressing his lips to Elena's forehead and then to their daughter's crown.
"She was all that kept me going… as we waited for you to come back to us."
Elena stared into Esperanza's eyes and knew. She had been the light in the void. It was her daughter's love, pure and potent, that reached across dimensions.
That saved her. That saved them all.
That night, beneath a sky glittering with stars and heavy with quiet blessings, Elena and Niegal held each other in the dark as their daughter slept between them.
The promise was unspoken, forged in sacred silence.
No more separation.
Never again would they let duty, battle, or fear tear them apart.
They had seen the cost. Felt it in the marrow of their souls.
Niegal spoke softly as Elena traced lines over his chest. He told her what had happened while she slept. The blade. The search. The prayers. The aching. The weeping.
And then-
Their daughter's voice.
The storm.
Elena's return.
They turned to Esperanza, watching her sleep peacefully between them, tiny fists curled near her mouth.
She had led her mother home.
Time was too precious to waste.
The people of Arenavida whispered in awe of Elena's return.
They tried to keep it secret, but rumors moved faster than light.
Some said the Lady of Storms had walked through death and fire to return to her child.
Others claimed they saw her wet-footed and lightning-cloaked, blade humming rain at her side, the scent of ocean wind in her wake.
La Doña Guabancex, they whispered.
Alive. Holy. Touched by thunder and sea.
The Behike said her spirit had lingered between worlds, and the old gods had argued over whether she should remain in their realm or return to this one.
In the end, Guabancex had cleaved the veil with her own hands and demanded her daughter back.
And so she came.
Preparations for the exodus began.
The Marisiana bayous awaited.
Wild. Swamp-shadowed. Sacred.
Aurora and the Behike worked tirelessly.
Niegal oversaw security.
Elena spent her days quietly, savoring each moment with her daughter, each breath of mana-rich air.
On the fifth night, Aurora arranged for them to be alone.
Just once. Just for one evening.
Niegal, reluctant at first, finally agreed. Esperanza was safe. Elena was safe. And the world could wait.
They did not speak much.
They didn't have to.
Their bed mat was soft with old blankets. Their shared lantern glowed with a faint spell light, casting gentle swirls on the tent walls.
Their bodies curved toward one another as if they had never been apart.
Their eyes did the speaking.
I missed you so much.
I ached for you every moment.
They kissed. And kissed again.
Long. Slow. Craving.
Like two pieces of soul sewn back together.
Too long.
It had been too long apart.
No words were needed.
Only hands, and mouths, and hearts that refused to let go.
Clothes fell away like mist.
Blankets tangled.
Their bodies found each other again like breath finds lungs.
Sometimes, a wife just needs her husband's love.
And Niegal, gods damn it, needed to give her his.
To serve her. To worship her.
To be hers completely.
When he entered her, it was like the first time all over again.
Electric. Tender. Sacred.
She whispered how much she loved him. How much she had missed him.
Their gasps were half-words. Their hands clung, desperate.
It was magic- not just in the blood, but in the moment.
A storm of soul meeting soul. Sacred. Loving.
The climax came like thunder.
Shaking. Soothing. Overdue.
Niegal panted against her neck, his arms trembling.
And then-
He cried.
He broke.
He howled.
Not with pain, but with something deeper.
Grief.
Relief.
Love that had nowhere to go for far too long.
He begged her forgiveness.
For not being there when she burned.
For not knowing how to reach her.
For fearing he'd have to raise a daughter without her.
For trying to win a war without his heart beside him.
Elena held him tightly. She said nothing. She did not need to.
She let the tears soak into her skin. Let the confessions echo into her bones.
She cradled his head as his body shook.
A man can only hold it in so long.
She kissed his hair. His shoulders. His spine.
And when his cries quieted, she whispered into the shell of his ear:
"I am always with you, my love."
He fell asleep like that.
In her arms.
Wrapped around her.
Their daughter safe.
Their bond complete.
Outside, the hold bustled with movement. The wagons were nearly packed. The scouts had returned from the bayous.
But for the first time in over two months…
Niegal slept without dreams.
He didn't need them.
He was already living the only one that mattered.
The Lion's beloved Storm had returned. And he would never, ever, leave her swirling cloud and thunder again.
The stars glittered above the camp like tiny blessings.
A breeze carried salt and lavender and storm through the trees.
Tomorrow, the march to Marisiana would begin.
But tonight?
Tonight, the gods let them rest.
And Guabancex herself whispered through the wind:
You are whole.
You are mine.
You are loved.