Marisol savored the fish. The herbs her grandmother had brought added a fragrance and flavor she hadn't realized she'd missed. It reminded her of the quiet mornings before all the chaos — when the only sounds were the waves and the crackle of fire.
She'd already spoken at length with her grandmother earlier, recounting the trials they'd faced and the things she had learned in the underworld — about her parents, about herself, and the responsibilities that awaited her. She had expected shock, or perhaps even horror. But none came.
Ma Chia had simply smiled, listening as patiently as ever, the way elders do when children share impossible stories. Her eyes, though, had shone with pride. That small, knowing smile told Marisol that nothing she said had truly surprised her.
It made her feel both comforted and humbled — as if her grandmother had always known this path awaited her.
When Jorge came to invite them for dinner, the old woman was still nodding along to Marisol's words. The invitation felt most welcome. Her grandmother was a wonderful cook, but meat was a rarity in her hut unless she caught fish or trapped a rabbit. Those that had eaten her herbs always seemed to taste the best.
Marisol was still half-lost in her thoughts when Jimena returned from outside, shaking the chill off her hands. She nudged Marisol with a grin.
"I almost forgot we were human," Jimena said with a sigh. "Let's add better toilets to our plans." She stretched and scratched behind Xolo's ear before plopping down beside her friend.
Marisol laughed, nearly choking on her last bite.
"We'll rest for the night and head out early in the morning. How's that?" she said, voice soft but firm.
Jimena's eyes lit up. "You should sleep over! We already napped next to each other before, remember? And Xolo can keep us warm — can't you, boy?"
The black dog barked once, tail wagging, as if in agreement.
Marisol chuckled, glancing around the room. Javier sat quietly, the heaviness in his eyes betraying thoughts he wasn't ready to speak. Jaime, in the kitchen, kept darting glances at his father while helping his uncle clean.
"It's okay," Marisol said at last. "I'll see you early tomorrow. I think we all need some real rest tonight."
She smiled gently. She didn't know whether Jimena was pretending not to notice her father's silence — or if she'd simply decided to move on, even when he couldn't.
That evening ended quietly, the farewells warm and lingering.
When Marisol returned to her hut, sleep took her the moment she lay in her new hammock. The soft sway and salt-sweet air lulled her into dreams. Axochi, who had stayed hidden within his gem for most of their time back, peeked out just before she drifted off. The small axolotl pressed a cool, damp kiss to her cheek before curling into her hair — a gentle reminder that she was never truly alone.
The next morning, the sounds of crashing waves greeted them as the sun rose high over the glittering bay.
Marisol, Jaime, and Jimena walked together, small fabric bundles tied across their backs. The wind caught in their hair as they made their way toward the forest path, eyes bright with determination and the faint shimmer of divine light.
A large group of villagers had gathered to see them off. Javier stood at the front beside Chia, his hands clenched but his chin held high. The old woman's expression was unreadable — pride and worry balanced in equal measure.
Behind them, the cuauhxicalli in the village center burned steadily. Flames of sacred color rose from its carved form, a living anchor of divine fire that would protect their home in the children's absence. The people murmured prayers, the smoke drifting skyward in fragrant ribbons.
Their mission was clear:
First, to find the creature Chia had glimpsed deep within the ceiba forest — the one that had brought fear and death to their people. They were to capture or destroy it, to end the plague it had become. Chia had given them a rough map, but warned that the forest shifted with divine moods.
Second, they were to search for Jimena's blue deer — or any beings like it. Creatures akin to the alebrijes, born from divine essence. If they could find them, they were to invite them to dwell near the village, to strengthen the bond between gods, spirits, and men.
Third, they would seek out the neighboring villages — long silent, their traders vanished, their fires cold.
It was a daunting journey, but as the three walked past the edge of the bay and into the green shadow of the forest, none looked back.
Only Chia did — her eyes following them until they vanished beneath the ceiba canopy. Her lips moved silently in prayer.
First, they would head to the open clearing near their village, where Jimena had last seen the blue deer. If they found no clues there, they would move on and search the surrounding area.
They also hoped to draw out the other creature—the one that had been haunting their village—and lure it away from home ground. If a confrontation happened closer to the outskirts, carrying it back or retreating would be far easier. Caution came first.
They had overcome their trial, but the heaviness in their limbs reminded them that this world was not Mictlan. The pulsing power of the gems embedded in their chests was the only thing keeping their confidence steady in the face of uncertainty.
"If we can't find it this time," Jimena said, thinking aloud, "maybe we could leave something behind—something to let it know we were here."
Xolo barked in agreement at her side, his ember-like eyes glinting. His ears twitched constantly, catching the forest's restless sounds.
"Are you sure it's friendly?" Jaime asked, following a few steps behind. Cimi, as usual, dozed contentedly atop his head.
"I'm sure," Jimena replied, her tone firm. She walked a little faster, not wanting her brother's doubts to shake her resolve.
"Most creatures like the alebrijes tend to be gentle," Marisol added softly. "Generations of hunters already destroyed the more violent ones. That's what my grandmother always says."
The forest stirred with life as they passed—birds fluttering from branches, small animals darting into burrows. Xolo, who Marisol thought would be eager to chase, stayed close to Jimena's side.
She brushed her fingers against the gem at her sternum. Its warmth thrummed through her, the bond stronger than ever. Drawing a deep breath, she quickened her pace to keep up with Jimena.
Soon the two girls were laughing as they hurried ahead, their steps light despite the mission's weight—while Jaime trailed behind, shaking his head but smiling all the same.
They burst into the clearing with giggles, the girls crashing through the wall of mangroves and splashing into the shallow lagoon. The cool water fanned around their legs as they declared the finish line with a cheer.
Jaime stopped short at the edge, bent over and gasped for breath in exaggerated wheezes. At some point along the trail, he'd ended up carrying all three bundles. The straps tugged and snagged on every branch they passed, earning curses from him and irritated huffs from Cimi, who had retreated into his gem to rest. Xolo, ever tireless, was the only guide still out—though more companion than spirit at this point.
The guides didn't seem to guide much outside the trials anymore. They felt more like reflections—pieces of their souls given shape. It was a strange sensation, one Jaime still wasn't used to. Yet through Cimi, he often found thoughts or feelings made clearer, like fog lifting from his mind. He almost wished Jimena had that kind of calm connection with Xolo. Instead, the dog was as restless as she was, barking and splashing harder than either girl.
Jaime sighed, half-amused, half-weary. Maybe their supposed epic journey was just a long, outing. He sank down at the water's edge, pretending exhaustion though he wasn't quite as tired as he looked. The air here was thick and heavy—so unlike Mictlan's thin stillness. One he almost missed. Maybe…
The thought ended abruptly when something large exhaled behind him.
A massive blue snout pressed against his back, sniffing curiously.
Startled, Jaime yelped and slipped, face-planting into the lagoon with a splash. He thrashed for a moment before pushing himself upright, sputtering water and mud.
When his vision cleared, he froze.
Jimena and Marisol were already standing calmly before a massive blue deer, its fur shimmering faintly like sunlight through deep water. They were talking to it—Marisol smiling, Jimena's hands outstretched.
The deer turned its luminous eyes toward Jaime, studying him with patient intelligence. A sliver of dread flickered in his chest.
"Bread!" Jimena shouted suddenly, waving him over. "Give him the bread!"
Still dazed, Jaime fumbled through the bundles until he found three loaves their uncle Jorge had baked—a hard, sweet bread made of maize—and tossed them gently. The deer caught them midair, tasting them delicately before swallowing with visible pleasure.
"Thank you, Chosen," a calm, resonant voice echoed in Jaime's mind.
Then the deer stepped back, turned, and leapt effortlessly over the mangroves. Its hooves barely touched the earth as it vanished into the green horizon.
For a long moment, the three stood in silence, the lagoon rippling around their legs. Then Jaime looked at his sister and Marisol.
They grinned at each other, joy shining in their eyes.
Their first task was complete.