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

One quiet evening, Niegal made his usual patrol. The Red Chapel camp, by now, moved around him like a familiar rhythm. Soldiers saluting, cooks stoking fires, guards rotating shifts, the night alive with murmurs and torchlight.

Some whispered prayers to the Coabey Cemi, before lying down to sleep, hands over their hearts or near the carved stone shrines tucked into camp corners. Small offerings of bones, offering cloths, and salt surrounded them like halos of reverence.

Niegal always paused when he passed those shrines.

Not because he feared death, but because he'd lived beside it too long.

And now? He had something, someone, to lose.

At the edge of the encampment near the supply barracks, he saw a figure moving alone.

It took him a second to recognize the man.

But then the walk, the tilt of the shoulders, the cocky gait gave him away.

"Alejandro," Niegal said, stepping into his path.

The man turned, and for a flicker of a moment, his face broke into a genuine grin.

"Niegal, gods, didn't think I'd see you here."

Niegal took it, but not gently. Their handshake was firm… too firm.

There had once been a time, years ago, when Alejandro had taught him how to train in swordsmanship.

"You don't learn how to win by being careful," he'd said, tossing a wooden blade at Niegal's feet when he was only fourteen. "You learn by bleeding a little, losing a lot, and standing up again anyway."

That memory burned now. Hot and bitter.

Niegal stepped in close, voice a barely restrained growl.

"Stay away from my sister. And her son. They've been through enough."

His smile faltered. For once, he had no clever retort. No slick comeback. Only silence.

The nearby Coabey shrine flickered with candlelight.

A skull carved from bone-wood watched from its perch. Witnessing.

"Whatever happened… happened," Alejandro finally said, his voice flat. "Let it go."

"I don't forget the dead that easily."

And without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked into the dark like a shadow returning to the mountains.

Alejandro stood alone, watching him disappear.

He kicked at the dirt, cloak snapping behind him.

The cocky smile returned. This one didn't reach his eyes.

Yeah, he thought. I messed up. But that last night wasn't my fault.

With everything they've been through… maybe another heartbreak isn't what they need.

The Coabey shrine glimmered to his right, a faint wind rustling its offering cloths.

Alejandro touched the hilt of his blade, then gave a half-mocking bow to the skull god.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your bones to yourself tonight."

And with that, he vanished into the gloom.

Chapter 94: Shadows of the Past