Severino trudges through the thick, shadowed forest, his grip firm around Narra's heart. It still pulses faintly in his hand, warm and slick with her blood. As he stares at it, he can't help but marvel at its deceptively human nature. For all her divine power, all her cruelty, Narra's heart is no different from the mortals she tormented. The thought unsettles him. Shaking his head, he presses on, exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. All he wants is to return to Adelfa, to hold her, to tell her it's finally over.

The forest grows darker around him, the gnarled branches overhead weaving a dense canopy that blocks out the moonlight. His steps crunch against the damp forest floor, but another sound soon joins his—low, smooth, and mocking.

"Congratulations, Severino," a voice drawls, curling through the trees like smoke. The words are followed by a deep chuckle, one that sends a chill racing down Severino's spine.

He freezes, his breath catching in his throat. He recognizes the voice instantly. The unknown god—the one who granted him the strength to defeat Narra. He glances around, but the forest remains empty save for the shadows that stretch endlessly in all directions.

"I've upheld my part of the bargain," Severino says, his voice firm despite the exhaustion weighing on him. "Narra is dead. Now honor your promise—keep my village safe."

The god's laughter resounds once more, deep and chilling, enveloping Severino as though the deity inhabits every shadow around him. "Ah, yes, I felt a life snuff out. But tell me, mortal—do you truly believe this is the end?"

Severino's grip on Narra's heart tightens, his jaw set in defiance. "I've fulfilled my part of the bargain—that's all that matters. Now uphold your end and leave me be."

"Leave you?" The voice oozes amusement, taunting and sharp. "How quaint. You forget, Severino—you owe me. And debts to gods are not so easily erased."

Severino's pulse races, but he steadies himself, forcing his voice to remain firm. "Whatever it is you want, it can wait. But first, let me return to my village—let me return to her."

The god chuckles, a low, mocking sound that coils around Severino like tendrils of smoke. "Such audacity, mortal, to make a god wait." The laughter lingers, echoing ominously before fading into the shadows. "Very well... Relish your fleeting peace—for now."

The air grows still again, but Severino doesn't move right away. He exhales slowly, the weight of the god's presence lingering even in its absence. Shaking off the unease, he pushes forward.

The forest begins to thin, moonlight breaking through the oppressive darkness. His pace quickens, driven by the faint hope that freedom lies just beyond the treeline. When he finally emerges from the woods, his breath catches in his throat.

Adelfa stands there, waiting for him. Her dress clings to her soaked form, her hair damp from the earlier storm. Despite her disheveled state, she is beautiful, her wide eyes brimming with relief as they meet his.

"Severino!" she cries, her voice breaking as she runs to him. She throws herself into his arms, and he catches her, holding her tightly. In that moment, the weight of his journey, of everything he has endured, crashes over him.

"It's over," he whispers into her hair, his voice raw with emotion. "It's finally over, Adelfa. We're free."

She pulls back slightly, her trembling hands cupping his face. "You're sure?" she asks, her voice fragile, almost disbelieving.

He nods, lifting Narra's heart for her to see. "I've done it. Narra is gone. The storm will never return."

Adelfa's gaze shifts to the bloodied heart, and she gasps softly, one hand covering her mouth. But when her eyes meet his again, they're filled with tears—not of fear, but of overwhelming relief. She kisses him deeply, pouring all her love, fear, and gratitude into the moment. The world around them seems to vanish, leaving only the two of them beneath the quiet moonlight.

When they part, Severino rests his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. "We're free now," he murmurs, his voice breaking.

Adelfa smiles, her tears glistening in the moonlight. "We are."

Hand in hand, they walk toward the village. The storm-ravaged land is eerily quiet, but as they approach, figures emerge from the shadows. The villagers, who have waited anxiously for news, gather around them, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief as Severino raises Narra's heart high.

"She's dead," he announces, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The goddess who tormented us is no more."

For a moment, there is stunned silence. Then, a wave of cheers erupts, the sound rippling through the village like thunder. People cry, embrace one another, and lift their hands in gratitude. Even the elders who once demanded Severino's sacrifice bow their heads, humbled by his triumph.

A feast is hastily prepared, and for the first time in years, the village is alive with joy. Severino sits beside Adelfa, watching the people he has fought so hard to protect. Their laughter and celebration fill the air, and for a fleeting moment, he feels a peace he hasn't known in years.

But as the night deepens and the firelight flickers against the faces of the revelers, a shadow lingers in Severino's thoughts. The unknown god's parting words echo in his mind.

For now.

Severino's grip on Adelfa's hand tightens, and he gazes into the distance, his jaw set with quiet determination. The battle with Narra is over, but he knows his fight is far from finished.

Days blur into weeks, and the village thrives in the absence of Narra's wrath. The once-turbulent skies now stretch clear and calm, unmarred by the storms that had plagued them for so long. The fields flourish, livestock return to health, and laughter echoes once more through the streets. Life resumes its peaceful rhythm, and for the first time in years, hope feels like more than just a fragile dream.

Severino and Adelfa find their own solace amid the renewal. Their bond, forged in fire and tested by gods, grows stronger with every passing day. Together, they rebuild not just their lives but also their vision of the future—a future no longer overshadowed by fear.

One radiant morning, the village gathers again, but this time, joy brings them together. Under a canopy of golden sunlight, Severino and Adelfa stand side by side, their hands clasped tightly. It is their wedding day. The ceremony is simple—no ornate decorations or elaborate rituals—but it is no less sacred. Surrounded by friends and neighbors who once doubted him, Severino exchanges vows with the woman who never wavered in her belief in him.

Adelfa's voice trembles with emotion as she whispers, "I never thought we'd live to see this day."

Severino smiles, brushing a gentle hand against her cheek. "Neither did I. But we made it. No more gods, no more storms. Just us, starting over."

As the crowd cheers and celebrates, the two steal away for a quiet moment beneath an ancient tree. Adelfa rests her head against Severino's shoulder, and for the first time, they truly feel the weight of their struggles lift.

Their happiness only deepens in the months that follow. Adelfa's cheeks glow with a new light, her laughter rich and unrestrained. Then, one fateful evening, she takes Severino's hand and places it over her belly.

"We're going to have a child," she whispers, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy.

Severino's breath catches. His hands tremble as he cups her face, kissing her forehead. "A child," he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. "Adelfa, we're building the life we always dreamed of."

News of the pregnancy spreads quickly, and the village rejoices. The child, they say, will be a symbol of hope, a testament to their survival and new beginnings. For months, Severino tends to Adelfa with tireless devotion, ensuring she wants for nothing.

Finally, the day arrives. The labor is long and grueling, but Adelfa's determination sees her through. Severino remains by her side, his hands clasping hers, whispering words of encouragement as she brings their child into the world. When the baby's first cries fill the room, tears stream down Severino's face.

The midwife places a swaddled boy in Adelfa's arms. Exhausted but glowing with pride, she gazes at their son with awe. "He's beautiful," she murmurs, her voice barely audible over her joy.

Severino leans over to kiss her forehead, his gaze locked on the tiny life they created. "He is," he agrees, his voice soft. "Just like his mother."

Adelfa laughs weakly, the sound filled with love. "What shall we call him?"

Severino studies their son for a moment, taking in the small, peaceful face, the tiny fists curled against his chest. "Isagani," he says finally, his voice resolute. 

Adelfa smiles, her tears spilling freely. "Isagani," she repeats, cradling the baby close. "It's perfect."

The village welcomes little Isagani with open arms, celebrating his birth with songs, dances, and offerings to the gods. It feels as if the entire village breathes new life, as though this child represents not just the love of two people but the collective spirit of a people who have endured and triumphed.

Severino and Adelfa's days are filled with the simple joys of parenthood—Isagani's laughter, his first steps, the quiet moments they share as a family beneath the stars. Peace, once an elusive dream, now surrounds them like a gentle embrace.

But even amid their joy, Severino sometimes feels the faint chill of a shadow on the edge of his thoughts. The unknown god's mocking voice lingers in the back of his mind, a reminder that some debts remain unpaid.

For now, though, Severino pushes the unease aside. He holds Adelfa close, watching as Isagani plays in the sunlight, and tells himself that this moment, this peace, is worth everything they sacrificed.

For now, they are free. And for now, that is enough.