Night lingered over Guerrero like a shadow unwilling to leave.
Hidden beneath the respectable face of legitimate businesses, Santiago "El Cuervo" Morales' operation center remained awake long after the city had fallen silent. Thick concrete walls concealed crimes that never reached newspapers, and locked rooms hid children whose names the world was slowly forgetting.
Among them...
Cruz Gael Navarro Cruz.
The eight-year-old boy sat quietly in a dim corner, his small hands trembling. Earlier that evening, he had attempted the impossible.
He had tried to escape.
For a few brief moments, hope had outrun fear.
But hope had been caught.
The heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway before the metal door swung open.
El Cuervo entered.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
Without raising his voice, he walked toward Cruz.
"You run again..." he said coldly, "...and the next punishment will be worse."
Cruz lowered his head but refused to cry.
That quiet defiance irritated Morales more than shouting ever could.
The blows came swiftly.
Each strike landed harder than the last.
When it was over, Cruz lay curled against the cold floor, bruised but conscious.
El Cuervo adjusted his sleeve as though nothing important had happened.
"Learn your place," he muttered before leaving the room.
The steel door slammed shut.
Silence returned.
Only the faint sound of the boy's breathing remained.
Hours later...
The compound had grown unusually quiet.
Most of the guards had fallen asleep.
El Cuervo sat alone inside his office, reviewing documents beneath the glow of a desk lamp.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows.
Eventually fatigue overcame him.
He leaned back in his chair.
His eyes closed.
Sleep claimed him.
Darkness.
Complete darkness.
Just as it had for countless others around the world.
Then...
A single golden light appeared.
One firefly.
It hovered before him.
Its glow was gentle.
Almost inviting.
El Cuervo frowned.
"What is this?"
The insect turned.
Slowly.
Silently.
It drifted deeper into the darkness.
Against his own judgment...
He followed.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Water echoed somewhere nearby.
The sound grew louder with every step.
A damp corridor slowly emerged from the darkness.
Its walls looked old.
Cracked.
Covered in moisture.
The air smelled of earth and decay.
The dripping continued.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Then...
Another sound.
Someone...
Was crying.
Not loudly.
Not desperately.
Just...
Endlessly.
The sorrow seemed to seep through the walls themselves.
El Cuervo stopped walking.
"Who's there?"
No answer.
Only mourning.
Soft.
Continuous.
The lights above him flickered once.
Twice.
Then repeatedly.
The corridor flashed between light and darkness.
Each flicker revealed something different.
An empty hallway.
Darkness.
An empty hallway.
Darkness.
Then—
For the briefest instant—
A woman.
Standing at the far end.
Entirely dressed in white.
Her long hair concealed most of her face.
Her shoulders trembled as she wept.
The lights went out again.
Silence.
They flickered back.
She was closer.
Still crying.
Another flicker.
Closer.
Another.
Closer.
El Cuervo's heartbeat quickened.
"This is a dream," he muttered. "Nothing more."
The woman slowly lifted her head.
Though he couldn't clearly see her face, he felt her gaze settle upon him.
Her voice emerged between quiet sobs.
"Release the children..."
The corridor seemed to grow colder.
He took one step backward.
She spoke again.
This time her voice carried through every wall.
"Release the children..."
The lights burst into violent flickers.
Water dripped faster.
The crying became heavier.
El Cuervo clenched his fists.
"I fear no ghost."
The woman stopped crying.
For one terrifying moment...
Everything became completely silent.
Then she spoke one final time.
"If you refuse..."
"...death will find you."
The words echoed through the corridor long after her lips stopped moving.
The lights exploded into blinding white.
The apparition surged toward him.
Fast.
Far too fast.
El Cuervo tried to run.
His legs refused to move.
The distance vanished instantly.
The white figure was suddenly before him.
He still couldn't see her face.
Only endless sorrow.
Only unbearable presence.
She reached toward him.
El Cuervo screamed.
He jerked awake in his office.
His chair crashed backward onto the floor.
His chest rose violently as he struggled to breathe.
Sweat soaked his shirt.
His heart pounded like it wanted to escape his ribs.
He looked around frantically.
Empty office.
Locked door.
No woman.
No corridor.
Only silence.
Then—
A tiny glow drifted near the office window.
A single firefly.
It hovered motionlessly.
Watching.
El Cuervo stared at it.
For the first time in years...
Fear outweighed power.
He stood, closed every curtain, switched on every light in the room, and checked every corner of the office himself.
Sleep never returned that night.
Because every time he closed his eyes...
He heard it again.
The quiet mourning.
And the promise that had followed it.
"Release the children..."