Niegal awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs like a war drum. He gasped for breath, clutching his chest, his muscles locked in panic.
A dream still flickered behind his eyes- no, not a dream. A vision. One that seared deeper than prophecy.
Esperanza, drugged. Her lashes heavy, her breath shallow. A boy bundled her into a blanket. She thrashed once, snarling like a storm breaking free from the sky, then went slack.
Then-
She woke in a stone chamber carved from sea-cliff limestone, its walls etched in ancient spirals. The boy sat by the door, watchful. A woman who looked so much like him, older, crueler, brushed past and stepped forward.
Esperanza flinched. Her magic ignited the curtains. Flames caught.
Then-
A cold slab. An altar. His body bound in mana-forged chains, his mouth muzzled like a beast. The Lion within him roared in anguish but could not break free.
Before him, Elena. Shaking, her scars spiraling bright like stars. Mana cuffs locked her limbs, bound her to the altar. Her mouth gagged. Her eyes begging.
And Esperanza stood above them both, her expression distant, dark. She raised an anthame, obsidian blade glinting with runes, and carved the air with sigils he didn't recognize. And then, gods help him-
She plunged the blade into her mother's chest.
No blood.
Only light.
Elena's scream echoed like a siren through his skull.
Niegal staggered out of bed, breath shallow, chest burning as though the blade had been thrust into him. He didn't even feel Elena stir. Didn't hear her rise. All he could do was fumble for the wooden box.
The cigarillos.
His hands trembled.
Elena came to him wordlessly, her steps soft, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Her fingers began to glow green with mana as she rubbed between his shoulders, easing the locked muscles there. He didn't speak. Just lit the cigarillo and took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl through him like balm.
He leaned against her, both of them swaying in quiet rhythm as they stepped outside into the night.
Only once his breathing steadied did she speak.
"Mi León… it's getting worse."
Niegal didn't answer. His gaze remained fixed on the black water churning below, his eyes haunted by the memory of light bursting from Elena's chest.
She sighed softly and shook her head. "Do you think I haven't noticed? Felt the pain in your chest? The ache in your heart?"
At that, he stilled. Just for a moment. Then, politely, he passed her the cigarillo. His usual distraction since discovering them onboard. She took it, but her eyes didn't leave him.
"My beloved," she continued gently. "I feel it, too."
Niegal finally turned to her, the surprise on his face unmistakable.
"But why did-" he began.
"Why did I not say something?" Elena finished for him, her voice quiet but firm. She turned and leaned against the railing, facing him fully. Her hand rose to his chest, warm and steady.
"I hoped you'd have enough sense to come to me first," she said. "Have you forgotten we're bonded?"
He dropped his eyes. Finished the smoke in silence. Then, with a sigh heavy as old grief, he muttered, "I'm sorry. You're right. I guess… I'm ashamed."
Her brow furrowed. "Ashamed?"
"I'm getting older," he murmured. "And what I see… I don't think we can stop it."
"Niegal, what are you-?"
He kissed her. Desperate. Fierce. One hand at her waist, the other cradling her cheek like she was the only thing tethering him to this world. His voice cracked against her lips.
"Esperanza makes a terrible, terrible choice. And we can't stop her."
Elena froze.
Her heart stuttered.
The serpent inside her hissed, uneasy.
But then she kissed him back, pulling him close, wrapping herself around his fear like armor.
"I thought we were past this," she whispered fiercely. "Don't hide your pain from me, mi León. If we must defy fate itself, then so be it."
He nodded against her. His forehead met hers. "Aye, mi Doña… I'm sorry. I'm just-"
"I know," she whispered, tightening her grip. "I'm scared, too."
They stood like that in silence, clinging to each other as if by holding tight enough, they might stop the storm from coming.
They watched the sunrise together. The clouds parted in streaks of gold and violet.
But they did not let go.