Maya's team reflected everything the movement stood for.
Kiko, the former radical, now committed to integration-with-identity. Hikari, the surviving tengu from Tokyo, hungry for justice. A kelpie named Ness, calm as still water. A nahual who'd fought in Mexico's supernatural underground. And a duwende barely a century old, small but fierce.
"We're not the strongest," Maya told them. "Not the oldest. Not the most powerful. But we're connected—to each other, to the community, to everything we're fighting for. That's our weapon."
"And our shield," Kiko added.
They trained relentlessly—not in combat, but in unity. In thinking as one. In moving beyond individual fear.
Glad watched with pride and terror.
"They're so young," she whispered to Ariel.
"So were we, once."
"I was never that young."
"You were. You just forgot."
The training continued as the Unseen circled, waiting for weakness it couldn't find.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
The attack didn't come.
But everyone knew—it would.
Soon.