Elena hadn't stopped kissing him.
Phineus.
Her son.
Her moonrise.
Her miracle.
She kissed his brow, the downy curve of his cheek, his impossibly small fingers curled around her own. Her arms ached. Her breasts throbbed. Her incision screamed.
But she would not let go.
Niegal had placed the child into her arms like a priest offering sacred communion, hands trembling, eyes shining. And from that moment on, she hadn't released him.
His warmth anchored her.
His heartbeat tethered her.
The goddess had demanded her body and blood-
But this?
This was her reward.
Niegal wept quietly at first, then freely, forehead pressed to hers as he brushed the curls from her damp temple. He kissed her and the child again and again, his joy trembling with disbelief.
They wept together.
Parents. Survivors. Chosen.
Elena cried openly as she clung to them both, pressing desperate kisses to Niegal's shoulder, his jaw, the baby's crown.
"Forgive me," she whispered. "I didn't want to leave- I swear, mi amor, I couldn't fight her- she would have killed me, killed him, it would've been fatal to resist- I swear it, never again, please, I-"
She was shaking. Tears streamed down her face, soaking his skin. Her voice caught, and she buried her face in his shoulder, ashamed. Terrified he'd turn away.
Niegal didn't speak right away.
His jaw clenched. His breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he just held them, mother and child, his mind flooded with memory:
The serpent's rebuke.
The heat of betrayal.
The pain of losing her again.
The name- Phineus.
But then-
He silenced her with a kiss. Deep. Grieving. Grateful.
One arm crushed her closer, the other cradling their child between them.
"Enough, mi Doña," he murmured into her mouth. "I know. I know."
And still he wept.
The Behikes remained at a respectful distance. Heads bowed. Hands folded in prayer.
They whispered thanks to every god who had listened.
To Guabancex,
To El León Negro,
To Coabey.
For life.
For mother.
For child.
But peace never lingered long in the life of a goddess.
By midday, the fever began.
A shimmering heat rose off Elena's skin like mirage-fire. Her lips dried. Her eyes dimmed. She trembled beneath the soft wraps, her body shuddering from within.
She tried to keep holding Phineus.
But her arms betrayed her.
The cursed flesh left behind by Siobhan's blade had festered.
She was burning from the inside out.
They decided she must be moved.
Niegal refused to leave… until he heard what had happened at the sanctuary.
About Esperanza.
About the storm that had lasted for days. The destroyed camp. The divine tantrum of a grieving, sacred child.
He didn't ask further.
He only nodded.
"I will go to her."
Elena smiled, weak and glowing with sweat.
"Go," she whispered. "You're the only one who can break her storm."
Niegal reached the sanctuary ruins by twilight.
Only the cathedral and the old cottage still stood. The rest of the mountaintop had been swallowed by divine weather. Civilians huddled in caves and under ledges. No one dared approach the heart of the tempest.
No one but Niegal.
His breath shifted as he crossed into it. His skin prickled.
The Lion stirred.
Not merely sleeping now-
waiting.
This storm is divine, El León Negro rumbled within him.
Only we may calm her.
Aurora stood like a ghost at the edge of the blasted cottage. Her eyes red. Her dress torn. Alejandro held her and the child, acting as shield and anchor both. He had only just arrived that afternoon, the destruction devastating. The toddler had refused to let go.
She had been screaming for days.
Niegal stepped forward.
Thunder cracked.
Esperanza lifted her head.
Her curls clung to her soaked face, cheeks blotchy from tears. Her sparking violet eyes, Elena's eyes, glowed with stormlight.
She blinked at him.
A heartbeat passed.
"Papi…?" she croaked.
He dropped to one knee.
His arms opened.
"Aye, mi hijita. Come to Papi."
She didn't run.
She floated, carried by winds she didn't command, and collapsed into his arms with a wail that cracked the skies.
He held her tight enough to make her whimper, kissed her again and again.
"Shhh… no llores, mi nena. Papi's here. Estoy contigo. Ya pasó… ya pasó…"
The storm broke.
The wind halted.
The rain slowed, became drizzle. Then mist.
The clouds parted, revealing stars. The moon blinked its silver eye.
She sobbed into his shoulder. He wept into her hair.
"Mami…" she whispered. "I want my Mami…"
"You'll see her soon," he promised. "I swear it, pequeña. You'll see her again."
The camp began to emerge.
Cautiously at first. One by one. Mothers with children. The wounded. The elders. The ones too frightened to speak.
They gathered like villagers from old myth, called by the sight of storm broken by love.
Aurora knelt beside him, shaking with relief.
"Elena?" she asked, voice hoarse.
Niegal gave a soft, tearful laugh.
"She fights a fever… but she's alive. And the boy…" He swallowed. "The boy is strong. Whole. A little miracle."
"She named him Phineus. Phineus Matteo."
Aurora sobbed. Then laughed through it, grabbing him in a tight embrace. The crowd surrounded them slowly, wide-eyed and silent. He turned to them, holding Esperanza close.
"Tomorrow," he said, loud enough for all to hear, "La Doña returns. With our son."
"She lives. And so does the second child of the Storm and the Lion."
Gasps. Cries. Someone dropped to their knees in thanks. Another called out a prayer.
They believed.
They knew.
The goddess had survived.
Her child had survived.
And tomorrow, they would come home.