The three decided it was wiser to return to the village before heading out again. They would tell Chia of the blue deer—perhaps even build a small shrine for it, offering the maize bread it seemed to favor.
The trip back was quick, even with Jimena deciding to burn a path through the forest. Marisol followed close behind, calling up her divine water to tame any fire that spread too wide. Together they forged a living corridor—flames giving way to emerald growth, vines curling and flowers blooming where the heat had passed. By the time they emerged from the forest, a lush green tunnel marked their path to what they had already begun calling the Blue Deer Lagoon.
Back in the village, they shared lunch together while curious faces crowded the doorway of the twins' home. Word had spread quickly, and half the village seemed to have gathered just to hear their story.
Javier watched from the side, his expression caught between pride and disbelief. He had expected the worst when they set out—believed that when Chia had seen was some lurking monster. But now, seeing his children return whole, confident, and almost radiant with divine purpose, he began to understand. The villagers' adoration wasn't just blind faith. There was something about them—an assurance in their eyes, a quiet strength he recognized only in seasoned hunters and men who had faced death and returned.
It amazed him how the gods had transformed his children into something larger than life—heroes in their people's story.
Conversation filled the small room. The three spoke of their meeting with the deer, of its calm voice in their minds, and how it leapt away into the forest. Their words flowed easily, and the people listened as though they were listening to myth already forming.
Plans began to take shape. Some of the younger villagers, excited by their tale, volunteered to accompany them to the next village. But Chia quickly silenced the idea.
"The path ahead belongs to the chosen three," she said firmly. "Our village still has work only we can do."
There were groans and quiet grumbling, but no one argued long. Chia had regained the people's faith. Since the children's return from Mictlan, strange wonders had become common: glowing herbs, fish that shimmered like firelight beneath the sea, voices heard in the waves. Even the fishermen had reported seeing vast shapes moving in the deep—creatures thought long vanished.
The world itself seemed to stir again.
After finishing their meal, the three gathered their supplies for a longer journey. They hoped to cover half the distance and return before nightfall, using themselves as bait to draw out the mysterious creature Chia had seen in the ceiba forest. It would also serve as a chance to scout the nearby lands—something no one had dared do since Javier had ended the great hunts a decade ago.
Chia warned them of the changed terrain. The rains had reshaped the land—mudslides and floods had buried old paths beneath new growth, making the forest unrecognizable.
"Follow the sea south," she instructed. "Keep to the forest's edge when you can. The ocean remembers its shape even when the land forgets."
The three nodded solemnly, the weight of their purpose settling over them once again.
So they did—keeping as close to the beach as the cliffs would allow. The coast here was wild and broken: sudden drops of white limestone cutting the beaches short, sheer walls plunging into foaming tide. They chose instead the safer path just within the tree line, where the sea's roar was muffled by the forest's constant whisper.
Even so, the undergrowth was relentless. Shrubs tangled their ankles, vines looped from above, and roots rose like hidden bones beneath the soil. The canopy thickened until sunlight dripped down in green shafts.
Jimena's patience lasted only minutes. "I could just burn it," she muttered for the third time, fire flickering in her hair.
"No," Jaime said sharply, slapping away a thorny branch.
"Not unless you want to cook us too," Marisol added, half laughing, half scolding.
Jimena huffed but obeyed, embers dimming as she picked up an obsidian blade instead. Together they hacked a narrow way forward—slow, sweaty work that reminded them how far they still were from wielding divine power as effortlessly as they had in the underworld.
Yet the gems in their chests thrummed softly with each motion, pulsing like heartbeats that weren't entirely their own. The power was there, waiting—just beyond reach.
As they pressed deeper, the forest erupted into life around them. Bright-feathered birds burst from the branches in startled clouds. Furry shapes darted between roots and vines—some vanishing underground, others scrambling up trees to safety. Insects swarmed from disturbed nests, stinging and biting in defense of their tiny empires.
Marisol yelped as something crawled beneath her sleeve, smacking at her arm with a strangled cry. "I hate this forest!" she shouted.
Jimena, on the other hand, laughed—delighted as sparks from her hair singed the incoming swarm. The air filled with the faint smell of roasted bugs.
Jaime tried to ignore the chaos, wiping sweat and the occasional splatter of insect guts from his face. Without Cimi's calm presence outside the gem, keeping focus felt like a losing battle.
"How," he muttered, "does nothing get on you, and Marisol and I somehow get everything?"
Marisol answered with a fresh shriek that sent birds flying.
By the time the sun reached past its peak, they had made it halfway up the mountainside. The air thinned; salt and heat blended with the scent of wet stone and crushed ferns. From here, they could glimpse the endless turquoise line of the sea below.
They paused, breathing heavily. Then Jimena suddenly whooped and bolted downhill, hair blazing like a comet. "Race you back!" she cried, igniting the dry vines in her wake.
Marisol followed right behind her, gleefully conjuring water to smother the flames—and drenching Jaime in the process.
He sighed, too tired to argue, and simply trudged after them with Xolo padding loyally at his side.
The dog barked once, as if to reassure him that his sister's wildness wouldn't last forever. Or maybe Jaime just wanted to believe it.
So boy and hound walked on in companionable silence, the echo of laughter and distant flame fading slowly through the forest.
They were halfway back when Jaime realized the forest had gone quiet.
No laughter. No teasing. No sound at all except the whisper of the surf below.
"Jimena? Marisol?" he called, his voice swallowed by the thick air.
Xolo's ears pricked up. Without waiting for a command, the black dog bolted ahead, growling low. Jaime followed at once, heart hammering, pushing through the tangled brush until the trees gave way to a sudden clearing.
The ground ended in a sheer cliff—jagged rocks glittering far below, the beach little more than a sliver between stone and foam.
And there, between the girls and the drop, stood a creature.
It was tall and lean, its skin a patchwork of feathers and green-blue scales that shimmered faintly in the light. A long, sinuous tail coiled behind it, and from its mouth flicked a thin, forked tongue that tasted the air. Its eyes—slitted and green—locked on Marisol with poisonous hatred.
For a breath, no one moved. Then the creature hissed, a sound like boiling water, and lunged.
Marisol barely had time to gasp before its claws slashed down—dripping with some viscous, sweet-smelling liquid that burned the grass it touched. But the strike never reached flesh.
With a deep, resonant hum, the gem at Marisol's chest flared to life. Obsidian plates erupted across her body, shaping into armor that shimmered like volcanic glass. Sparks danced along her arms as the claws skidded harmlessly off the surface.
The creature recoiled, hissing louder, then spun and lashed out with its tail. It struck Jimena square in the ribs, most of the impact absorbed by the obsidian armor. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air as she skidded a meter, coughing but already rising with fire burning in her hair.
The split second of contact the creature had made with her. Singed it's tail badly. It hissed, retreating slightly.
Jaime didn't think. He only moved.
With all the pent-up frustration from their chaotic day, he charged. His shoulder slammed into the creature's chest, driving both of them off balance.
There was a heartbeat of weightlessness—wind and sea roaring together—then they tumbled over the cliff's edge, locked in a furious struggle as the world turned upside down.
Jaime felt the deep thrum in his chest—a vibration that resonated through bone and blood. Instinct overtook thought. He spread his arms wide, twisting midair to avoid the creature's flailing claws.
Time seemed to slow. Every droplet of salt spray, every shimmer of scale and feather caught the light like shards of glass. The gem in his sternum burned, and obsidian armor burst across his body in jagged plates streaked with veins of gold.
Then came the sound—the pulse of divine power leaving his core.
With a single powerful motion, Jaime released it. Shards of glowing obsidian flared out from him in a sweeping arc, striking the scaled creature beneath him. Each fragment cut deep, hissing as it seared through muscle and hide.
The force threw the creature backward. Jaime used the recoil, pushing off its chest to twist midair and slam back onto the cliff's edge. His knees buckled beneath him, the impact rattling through his armor.
Marisol and Jimena were already there, catching him before he collapsed completely. Energy dissipated from his shoulders, his eyes dazed but alive.
Below, Venemaris writhed as it fell. His body glowed faintly where the divine shards had struck, blood and ichor spilling into the waves below. The hiss that escaped his mouth was not just pain—it was fury.
The creature slammed into the sea with a tremendous splash, disappearing into the churning foam.
Jimena tightened her hold on her brother. "Do you think it drowned?" she asked, her voice small beneath the roar of the surf.
Marisol shook her head. "Better not to find out," she said, scanning the restless water. "We're not ready for another fight—not like this."
Together, they turned away from the cliff. Jaime leaned heavily on their shoulders, the golden glow of his armor dimming as his strength ebbed.
Xolo trotted ahead, his eyes glowing faintly, alert to every sound in the forest. None of them spoke as they made their way back—the realization sinking in with each step.
They had been too careless.
And the enemy was far from gone.