THE UNBOUND

The earth shook.

The clouds split open.

Elena rose into the storm, lightning cracking at her fingertips. High into the clouds she rose, arms spread wide as her sides. 

Bullets shot toward her — all deflected midair. One by one, they ricocheted back into the ranks of her enemies.

She screamed.

Once.

Twice.

And again.

Her voice cracked the heavens.

Purple light veined up her arms, through her face, forming jagged lines of raw power. Her body glowed, divine and terrible.

She destroyed everything.

Everything.

All but the spot where Niegal lay.

From the cliffs above, Aurora watched the storm rage. Her eyes wide with horror and awe.

In Puerto Cuidad, the people fled inside. Lightning ripped through buildings, through carriages, through agents of the Church who dared remain in the open.

Elders whispered to frightened children, "this is a return to the old ways. Guabancex has awakened." 

A cathedral steeple burst into flame, the stone crumbling into ash.

This was no battle.

It was retribution.

The storm did not relent.

Not for hours.

Only when night fell did Elena finally give out.

She dropped from the sky like a broken star.

Her skin cracked. Smoldered. Bled.

She landed beside Niegal, barely breathing. Her fingers twitched toward him… but she couldn't reach.

Silence.

Smoke curled through the cratered ruins of the estate.

Nothing left.

No house.

No legacy.

Only Elena and Niegal, both unconscious. Barely alive.

Thunder groaned overhead.

Rain fell in waves.

From the city, people crept forward. Whispers spread:

The Witch Saintess is gone. 

The House of Matteo has fallen.

Cloaked figures arrived first — Muerte Juju loyalists. They lifted the bodies, one by one, and carried them into the night.

Back to the underground sanctum.

Back into the shadows.

All of them muttered the same thing, over and over. 

She is no Saintess. She is Guabancex, raging for her people and her love. This wrath is divine. 

And from the ashes of nobility… the people began to mourn.