The morning after their clash with the elders, the Sanctuary stirred with uneasy whispers. Bells tolled from the cathedral tower, meant for celebration, but their peal carried no joy. The sound hung heavy in the air, hollow as a funeral knell beneath the weight of Phineus' warning. Even the doves startled from the rafters flew wide, their wings thrumming like panicked hearts.
Elena rose from the tangled sheets, Jaime's arm still looped protectively around her waist. His warmth anchored her, though the air beyond their bed seemed colder than it had any right to be. Her violet eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, the cracks of indigo lightning within them humming like storms too restless to sleep. She brushed her lips over his temple, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The rare sight of peace in a man haunted by battles yet to come.
For one fleeting heartbeat, she wished time would still. That the wedding, their wedding, would never arrive, that the world could stay bound in this fragile cocoon. But she knew better. The lion prowled closer with every breath, with every hour the bells tolled hollow.
Jaime stirred, his ocean-blue eyes opening to meet hers. The glow in them was soft now, like the calm before rain. He smiled.
"Good morning, wife-to-be."
Her lips curved despite herself, though dread pressed behind her ribs like an iron weight. "Wife-to-be," she echoed, fingers brushing his jaw. "And not a day longer than three, if I have anything to say about it."
By midday, the whispers had thickened into rumor: the divine couple had seized control of their wedding. No longer would the Elders draw out the spectacle over a fortnight of pomp and politics. Three days. No more, no less. Enough to prepare, enough to bind, enough to make a stand. Enough to defy the lion by meeting him together.
When the seamstresses arrived, Elena surprised them all. She asked for no pearls, no lace, none of the ceremonial white robes the Elders pressed upon her. She wanted something Jaime would never forget, something the lion himself could not look upon without knowing her will was her own.
The moment the red silk slid over her skin, she shivered. The gown clung to her like liquid flame, a daring silhouette with a plunging back. She could already picture Jaime's face when he finally saw her in it- awed, undone, disarmed.
But then she felt it.
A presence.
A weight pressing between her shoulder blades.
El León Negro.
Her breath caught, the hairs on her arms rising as though his shadow had brushed her skin. She forced her hands steady, smoothing the silk as though nothing were wrong. She would not let him see her falter. Not here. Not now.
Behind her, the Elders murmured, their voices like the drone of flies circling a corpse. Too bold. Too worldly. Too unholy.
Until Señora Behike's voice cracked like a whip:
"Silence. You asked for their wedding. Now you will bear witness to what divinity chooses for itself."
Elena lifted her chin, violet lightning flashing in her gaze. She would not bow- not to Elders, not to gods, not to the lion that stalked her shadow.
Meanwhile, Jaime walked the outer walls of the Sanctuary beside Juan. The two men spoke in low tones, their words swallowed by the restless wind as they inspected every gate, every blind spot, every shadow long enough to hide an enemy. Jaime's ocean-blue gaze glowed with resolve; Juan's eyes flickered with golden pollen, the god within him stirring with unease.
Then-
A shift in the air.
The acrid tang of iron. The ozone bite of storm.
A sound that was not sound at all. Low, resonant, rolling across the stones like a growl carried by nothing and everything.
Jaime froze. Juan's hand hovered near the hilt of his blade. Their gazes met, and in the silence between them, understanding struck sharp as lightning.
The lion was coming.