Betti_Lorenzo

The Unbound

Gothic Romance • Spiritual Rebellion • Fantasy Drama

Elena Rosaria was born a witch in chains—branded by the Church, betrayed by her own blood, and forced to survive in the shadows of an empire that hunts her kind. But when her life collides with Viscount Seamus Matteo—a brooding heir with a taste for danger and a heart drawn to her fire—their connection sparks a forbidden passion that defies the Church’s rule.

As war brews between the old faith and a rising resistance, Elena must reckon with a violent past, prophetic visions, and the price of power. Seamus would burn the world to protect her. But it is Niegal Matteo—his exiled uncle and a gifted healer—who may hold the key to not only Elena’s survival, but the fate of magic itself.

In a land of holy inquisitions, blood-bound magic, and saints who are not what they seem, three haunted souls must choose: surrender to the roles they were born into… or become something unbound.

THE UNBOUND

It was meant to be small—quiet, safe. After months of turmoil and aching recovery, it was time.

The Church was silent. The city, still and tense.

But within the Matteo Manor, joy stirred.

In her chamber, Elena stood radiant in the mirror. Cheri tightened the silk laces of her gown—a chapel-length masterpiece of white organza and pearl embroidery, the Matteo crest delicately sewn into the bodice.

Her scars only made her more divine.

Cheri finished her work, then placed the pearl-and-diamond diadem gently into Elena's curls. A veil flowed like mist behind her. Pearls shimmered from her earrings, catching the sunlight like tiny stars.

Cheri hugged her tightly, chin resting on Elena's shoulder. Neither could hold back the tears.

Phineus, now thirteen, stood proud in his pressed suit. His mother, Aurora, beamed from behind him.

"Mija," Aurora gasped. "You look like a dream."

Phineus grinned cheekily. "So, are you my aunt or sister-in-law now?"

WHACK. Aurora smacked the back of his head.

The women burst into laughter, the room filled with joy that seemed impossible months ago.

Aurora, in a deep navy gown dotted with pearls, took Elena's arm. They descended the grand staircase. Staff lined the halls in their finest clothes, cheering as the women passed.

They entered the estate's refurbished chapel—once abandoned, now glowing with renewed power. Symbols of Muerte Juju decorated the sanctuary. The bronze statue of the Saintess stood tall, flower-crowned and sacred talismans hanging from her palms.

The Behike, regal in obsidian and crimson, gave a nod of blessing as she opened the chapel doors.

Inside stood Niegal—his back to the entrance, hands loosely behind him.

He was a little dazed, and not because nerves. He could've sworn he saw Seamus, just a blink of him nodding, and then gone again in a reflection on the adorned Saintess Yidali.

Aurora took her place before them, officiant and sister in all but blood.

The ceremony began—candles flickering, old rites whispered. They exchanged drinks in blessed cups, and when the time came for vows, Elena stepped forward, hand in Niegal's.

"Never did I think I was worthy of a second chance. Not until I met y—"

Chapter 69: the Wedding Begins