The sky mourned with them.
A soft rain sifted from the heavens like the sigh of the gods, dampening cloaks and curling into mourning braids. Smoke curled gently from the newly lit pyre, the scent of cedar and myrrh carried across the coastal winds of Marisiana. The people had gathered by the hundreds. Practitioners, commoners, war veterans, and Children of the Storm and Lion alike, heads bowed in reverent silence.
Elena stood in black, her coat drawn close, curls pinned in a low bun that the wind had already begun to unravel. Beside her, Niegal towered like a sentinel of shadow and grief, his broad shoulders heavy under the weight of visions he hadn't yet spoken aloud. One arm curled protectively around Elena's waist, anchoring them both as the flames claimed what remained of the beloved Behike.
She had fought a quiet battle, the kind that slipped between the ribs and hollowed the heart from within. A rare and cruel illness, one even Niegal had struggled to name. Despite all his knowledge, all his healing, the Behike had slipped away during the night. An apprentice healer had found her at dawn, laid out peacefully on a cot, hands folded over her chest. Eyes closed. Mouth still smiling.
Now she was smoke and bone and ash.
Around the pyre, the whispers had begun. They slithered under veils and around solemn heads:
"The goddess should take her place."
"Elena was already our protector."
"The Children would rally behind her, and so would the Coalition."
A coronation. A merging of power and faith. A divine Behike of storm and serpent.
Elena leaned against Niegal's chest, her expression unreadable. Inside her, the goddess stirred like thunder beneath the sea.
"I am not a balm. I am ruin. They forget who I am."
Niegal's body tensed beneath her hand. She turned her gaze up to him- quiet, searching. His eyes were red-rimmed, not just from grief but from exhaustion.
He had not slept well in weeks. Each night, the dreams grew worse. Vivid. Terrible.
Visions of firelight and foreign chants. Elena, shackled to a blood-soaked altar, her scars glowing with serpentine light. Sigils carved in the air. Himself, bound and gagged, the lion roaring within him in helpless fury. And worst of all, their daughter-
Esperanza, wide-eyed and dazed, holding a ceremonial dagger above her own mother's heart.
Niegal's breath hitched at the memory. His chest burned suddenly, pain blooming like a hot fist in his sternum. He raised one hand to steady himself, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
Elena noticed.
Her brows drew together in concern. "Mi León?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "It's nothing."
He lied.
Elsewhere, beyond the somber walls of ceremony, the sounds of childhood laughter rang through the misty air.
In a training yard slicked with rain and ringed with old stone pillars, Esperanza- now just past age eleven- spun, curls bouncing behind her like a lion's mane. She parried low, then swept high, mana pulsing around her in shimmering threads of violet and green. Her bare feet splashed in puddles, a joyful cry erupting from her as she disarmed her opponent.
Phineus let his blade fall with a small huff. "Not fair. You used wind again."
She grinned. "You said no fire. You didn't say anything about wind."
He tried to scowl, but the smile betrayed him. He lunged at her again, laughter in his throat.
At seven, Phineus had already grown into a sharp, quiet boy with silver eyes that gleamed like moonlight and the patience of a much older soul. His magic was still unpredictable, coiling in tight golden threads along his arms and legs. A faint purring sound rumbled from his chest whenever he focused. An unconscious echo of the lion god within his blood.
On the sidelines, six year old Vera sat with her hands in her lap, her posture perfect despite the drizzle. She clapped politely as the sparring ended, her golden bun immaculate, her cloak unwrinkled. When she reached out to soothe a shallow cut on Phineus's hand, her fingers glowed with green light, and the wound vanished.
"Good form," Alejandro called, voice proud but gruff. Lines now etched deeper into his face, silver touching his temples. "But mind your stances. A wild strike is a wasted one."
Aurora stood beside him, regal in her widow's braid and weather-worn coat. She was quieter now, more tired than she once was, but no less sharp. Her eyes, still fierce, still silver flame, watched her daughter, niece, and nephew with a guarded kind of love.
"Keep her grounded," she murmured to Alejandro. "Before the winds lift her too high."
Elena and Niegal arrived at the yard not long after, the scent of ash still clinging to their clothing. The children ran to them- Esperanza throwing her arms around her mother's waist, Phineus nuzzling against his father's hip.
Niegal winced slightly at the contact. The dream still throbbed behind his eyes.
Elena smoothed her daughter's hair back, her hand lingering.
"She would've loved to see you all grown," she whispered. "The Behike."
Esperanza tilted her head. "Mama… are you going to be her now?"
The question struck Elena harder than she expected.
"I don't know yet, little one," she murmured, brushing damp curls from Esperanza's brow. "I'm not sure that's something I can be."
Later, as the children trained under Alejandro's watch, Elena and Niegal walked the boardwalk that overlooked the bay, their conversation hushed beneath the gray sky.
"She chose peace," Elena said softly. "She was never meant to die in sickness."
"She chose to give everything," Niegal replied. "Like you."
Elena looked at him then, eyes filled with worry. "They want me to take her place. The goddess is not pleased. She coils inside me like smoke in a bottle. Mi León, I've never been a healer. I've broken more things than I've ever mended."
Niegal touched her chin, lifting it gently. "You've saved more than you know."
"I can't be what they want."
"Then be what you are." He pressed his forehead to hers, purring faintly. "I will follow you. Always."
She smiled, eyes misted. "Have I told you how much I love you lately?"
"Every single day," he murmured. "But who's counting?"
They laughed quietly, the world briefly quiet around them. The sounds of sparring returned, joyful and unburdened… for now.
Behind her ribs, the serpent stirred.
"Your daughter grows stronger by the day, my vessel. Be wary."
Elena closed her eyes and listened- not to the warning, but to the heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and warm against her beloved's chest.
She held onto that.
For now.