Chapter 71: the Streets Rejoice

The streets of Puerto Cuidad erupted with joy.

A wedding that defied death, war, and oppression had finally happened.

Vendors sold miniature portraits of Elena and Niegal, claiming they brought luck in love. Children sang ballads outside orphanages and schools Elena had founded.

Their love was legend.

But in the shadows of crumbling temples and secret sanctuaries, the Church plotted.

They had lost one of their most powerful patrons.

And a sizable portion of their forces had died in a chapel, not a battlefield.

Something had to be done.

Days later, in the heart of Puerto Cuidad's black market, a cloaked figure moved quietly through the bustle.

They passed herb stalls, spell-smiths, and relic dealers, heading toward the medical sanctum hidden in the back.

The figure raised a hand. Golden magic swirled at their fingertips.

The heavy door creaked open.

Inside, the Behike sat at the head of a long table, fingers steepled.

She smiled knowingly, and did not rise.

She only watched the figure with ancient, unreadable eyes.

"You shouldn't be alive," she said at last. "And yet… the air hums with your return."

"The gods work in mysterious ways… eh, Alejandro?"

The hood fell.

He stood before her—gaunt, eyes sunken but bright.

That old, familiar rakish grin stretched across his face.

"They most certainly do."