THE UNBROKEN

It took an entire day before either of them could rise.

Elena lay draped across Niegal's chest, eyes open but unfocused, her limbs too sore to move. Her serpent coiled loosely beneath the skin of her arm, agitated but no longer ravenous. Bruises bloomed like violets across her hips, thighs, and shoulders. Testaments to divine possession, or something far more terrible.

Niegal hadn't moved for hours. He slept deep and silent, only the occasional tremor revealing the battle still raging inside.

Elena whispered prayers over him, quietly, desperately, until exhaustion finally overtook her, and she too slipped into the shallows of sleep.

But before he woke-

Niegal dreamed.

He walked barefoot along a black-sand beach, his footsteps swallowed by a tide the color of blood. The sky above was low and bruised, painted with the smoldering reds of a sun in retreat. Clouds churned like a storm that had lost its name.

He didn't know why he walked. Or what he was searching for.

But then he saw it.

The serpent.

Great and terrible.

A towering mass of obsidian coils slithered from the ocean's edge, its eyes a fierce, glowing violet. Lightning sparked across its spine. Lava poured from its open maw, kissing the sand in molten trails that did not cool.

It stared at him.

And then, before he could run or kneel or speak-

it shrunk.

Collapsed inward like storm smoke and flame. Until what remained was a woman.

Not just a woman.

Elena.

Naked, radiant, terrifying. Her scars glowed pearlescent in the red light, her hair trailing with sea mist, eyes brighter than the serpent's ever were. The snake brand on her arm glowing. She turned, walking toward the jungle Niegal hadn't noticed before.

From the shadows, a low growl rumbled.

He turned. The jungle split open, trees bending. A lion- massive, divine, golden fur and pitch black mane- emerged from the underbrush. Its eyes shone like polished silver.

Then it changed.

Niegal gasped.

The lion was him.

Himself, and not.

All that he was, unbound. All that he feared. All that he wanted to be.

The beast-man and the serpent-woman met in the clearing.

They didn't speak.

They claimed.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The jungle quaked with their union, the trees bowed. The blood-tide crashed harder onto the shore. It was not sex. It was possession. Divine combustion. A contract inked in sweat and teeth.

Last thing he saw was the snake-woman flip over the beast, screaming in pleasure as she claimed him.

When Niegal thrashed awake, lungs empty, heart stammering-

he wasn't alone.

Elena was already straddling him, her head thrown back, hips grinding against his as if she were in a trance. Her hands clutched his chest, her body glowing with fevered light.

She was weeping.

Tears streamed down her face even as her lips parted in a moan.

"I didn't know the price," she sobbed. "I thought it was only me. I didn't know she'd claim you, too. I didn't know—"

Niegal's eyes flared silver.

And the lion inside him roared.

Outside the cottage, the air grew hot.

The wards, those sacred protections cast by the combined power of two Behikes, sputtered and failed. With a soft crackle and a hiss, the circle died, releasing the god-force it had been trying so desperately to contain.

From the trees, the people heard it.

The rhythm. The moans. The primal cries echoing from the heart of the sanctuary like distant thunder.

They didn't look away.

They couldn't.

Some villagers fell to their knees in awe.

Others turned their backs and wept in terror.

A few whispered prayers into their hands: "Protect us, La Doña. Spare us, O Lion."

Wives returned to the cottage door, this time with offerings of blood oranges, white shells, and the bones of firstborn roosters. Soldiers lined the perimeter in absolute silence, heads bowed, fists clenched.

No one tried to enter.

None dared interrupt.

They simply bore witness.

To gods in mortal skin.

To the terrible beauty of being claimed.

Inside, time had unraveled.

Elena no longer knew where she ended and the serpent began. Her hips moved of their own accord, her tongue spoke in a voice not hers. The Lion's hands, so familiar, gripped her body with reverent ferocity. He growled beneath her, biting her shoulder, pulling her down as if she would float away.

They were not in control.

They were conductors. Living channels of ancient forces who had waited millennia to feel flesh again.

Wordlessly, they stopped fighting it. They allowed the gods take them.

When they finally collapsed into each other, the floor beneath them steamed with sweat and spirit.

Niegal clutched her close, rocking her in his arms. Elena's body still pulsed, twitching with aftershocks, her face buried in his chest. Blood trickling from the bite on her shoulder.

"I'm afraid," she whispered. "I'm afraid of what I've become."

He didn't answer.

He only held her tighter.

And outside, the people prayed-

For mercy.

For clarity.

For an end to their beloved leader's possession.