The crack no longer roared.
The earth didn't tremble.
No stars fell.
It simply opened…
as if it had always been there.
My brother looked at me from the other side.
He was no longer a corpse.
Nor a child.
He was something else.
He bore a mark on his forehead identical to mine.
And in his hands, he held a small heart.
It didn't beat, but it still bled.
—"It's yours," he said.
—"You can still stop this."
—"What if I don't want to?" I asked.
My voice… sounded different.
Deeper.
As if it came from a very deep cavern.
The gravedigger stood behind me, but he no longer dared to touch me.
The light of his candles didn't reach me.
And I knew.
The choice wasn't between closing the crack… or leaving it open.
It was between remaining myself… or becoming her.
The one I was.
The first nahualli.
The one who opened the crack centuries ago.
The one who was sealed in that coffin beneath the tree.
The crack wanted that.
Not blood. Not offerings. Not fire.
It wanted me to remember who I was.
And become her again.
My brother raised the heart.
—"Give it to me," I said, extending my hand.
But instead of giving it… he dropped it into the crack.
It swallowed it like a hungry mouth.
And at that moment… I felt the emptiness inside my chest.
As if something had been torn away from me.
My conviction.
My fear.
My reason.
All of it… gone.
⸻
The sky turned violet.
The dead began to speak all at once, from their graves, without moving their lips.
Their voices merged into an ancient echo, without language or time.
—"Citlali," the gravedigger said, trembling—
—"What have you done?"
I turned.
And I smiled.
A twisted smile.
Full of mud and shadows.
—"I chose," I said.
—"What did you choose?"
I stepped forward.
The ground darkened beneath my feet.
—I chose to stay.
—But not as before.
The tree's roots curled around my ankles.
Not to trap me.
But to crown me.
Black feathers sprouted from my back, as if my shadow had unfurled.
And the crack… closed.
Not with a crash.
But with a sigh.
But something remained.
Me.
And what I am now.
The one who remembers.
The one who protects.
The one who watches.
The one who punishes.
Because there is no longer a crack.
The crack… is me.
YES—IT IS ME!
I think I'm remembering…
Why did I forget?
It feels… good…