The fire cracked softly.
Outside, the rains had finally ceased. The wind no longer cried through the broken lattice of what was once the sanctuary's gardens. The mountains slept in the hush of post-storm silence, as if the land itself was grateful for the stillness.
Inside the old cathedral, what little remained of it, Aurora sat curled on a salvaged bench, her arms folded around her knees. Her eyes were swollen, her lips drawn tight in a thin line. She wasn't crying anymore. She had run out of tears hours ago.
Alejandro sat beside her, humming softly to himself. He wasn't good at silence. Or, rather, he wasn't good at letting silence stay heavy.
"You know," he said, nudging her with his elbow, "I once tried to name my horse Phineus. She bit me and threw me in a river."
Aurora blinked.
Then snorted.
A laugh. Small. Wet. But real.
"Of course you did," she murmured.
He grinned. "Had to bribe her with mango slices for a week before she forgave me. Even then, she preferred kicking nobles more than carrying them."
She sighed, her cheek resting against her folded arms. "That sounds… about right for something named Phineus."
"Powerful name," Alejandro said, more gently now. "Worthy of storm-kissed blood and fire-marked lineage."
They sat in quiet again, the glow of the fire catching in Aurora's gold-streaked hair.
"I miss Seamus," she whispered.
Alejandro's grin faded, just slightly. "I know. So do I."
"He would've loved this mess." Her voice cracked. "He'd have swaggered into the city square with a bottle of wine, cursed everyone, kissed Elena stupid and claimed the baby as his own- daring anyone to say otherwise."
"Then demand a steak," Alejandro added.
Aurora laughed again, louder this time, though it quickly melted into another choked sob.
"And… Elena. She honored him. Naming the baby after him. Phineus."
"She never forgets," Alejandro murmured. "Even when the gods demand the world from her, she always brings a piece of the dead back to life."
Aurora's hand brushed her shawl. She hesitated.
"She told me why," she said quietly. "Why she named him Phineus."
Alejandro looked up, listening.
"She said… it wasn't just for Niegal. Or for grief. She said Phineus, her brother-in-law she watched grow into a man, died saving them all. That his last act was one of love and loyalty. And that naming their child after him wasn't just remembrance. It was a kind of… defiance."
Aurora's voice grew thick. "She said, 'I won't let the Inquisition have the final word. My son will carry the name they tried to erase. Let the world remember him. Let them remember us.'"
Alejandro was quiet, firelight flickering in his eyes.
"Gods," he whispered. "She really is a storm."
They sat for a while longer. The fire grew low. Aurora wrapped the shawl tighter around her shoulders, suddenly chilly despite the embers.
"Do you think this is the start of the new age?" she asked.
Alejandro tilted his head. "It already started, no?"
"No. I mean… really started. Like the end of everything old. No more hiding. No more church. No more blood sacrifices for gods who never bleed themselves."
He was quiet a moment. Then:
"I think," he said carefully, "it's going to be a lot messier than we imagined. I think the people will try to make Elena a saint. A queen. A goddess with no mortal grief."
"She'll hate that."
"Exactly."
"And the child?" she whispered. "Phineus?"
Alejandro stared into the fire.
"He'll change the world. I don't think he'll even try to. He just… will. It'll be in everything he touches. That's what storm-born children do."
Aurora pressed a hand to her chest, suddenly overwhelmed. Tears sprang to her eyes again. "I hope I'm strong enough to help them."
Alejandro turned to look at her, truly look at her. "You've already helped them. You've raised Esperanza when her mother bled and broke. You've stood by Niegal even when he forgot to stand by himself. You've stood up to me, and gods know that takes a kind of sacred bravery."
Aurora smiled faintly, shaking her head. "You're such an ass."
"An ass who loves you dearly," he said with a theatrical bow from his seat, overdoing it enough to draw another smile.
The fire flickered between them.
Aurora's hand unconsciously moved to her belly. Just a brush of her fingers. Barely noticeable.
But someone noticed.
In the shadows, just beyond the firelight, Niegal stood silent. Watching.
The lion within him stirred, its golden eyes gleaming. He could smell it, faint and new: life.
Not just any life.
Their life.
Aurora and Alejandro's.
A spark, too soon for her to know. Too delicate to announce. But it was there.
He should've felt only joy for them. And he did. But it tangled in the ache still lodged in his chest.
Elena hadn't told him about the name. She whispered it to the Behike instead. Not to him.
Phineus.
It had gutted him. And yet… he understood now. Of course she chose that name. It was Elena. She always remembered. Always loved been the yond the flesh and fire.
Still, it hurt.
He felt all of it. The grief, the awe, the impossible devotion, settle inside him like a second heart.
Niegal smiled softly and stepped back into the dark, not saying a word.
He would let them find out on their own. In their own time. In their own joy.
There would be enough pain in the days to come.
Let them have this quiet miracle, wrapped in firelight and laughter.