<Translation from Nahuatl>

People believe nahuals and spirit monsters are myths.

Fantastic nightmares to scare children.

But in Vereluna, nightmares are real.

Nothing hunts the way a nahual does.

That night, Maya hunted.

Her wolf-form was towering. Massive. Commanding. Honed through years of unyielding discipline. Dark-gray fur, streaked with shadow, blended seamlessly into the forest as she moved.

Silent. Lethal.

She glided like wind through leaves, one moment seen, the next vanished. Her presence slipped away with the speed of a shadow in moonlight.

Just like her ancestors had for countless seasons before her.

Her eyes caught every shadow. Her ears fed on every rustle.

Bound by duty, forged by discipline, she moved as the stories say: a shadow between realms. But inside, the weight of tradition pressed against her­­­­—tight to her ribs, as if the stars themselves ached to pass judgment.

A sudden, unnatural hush fell.

The forest itself held its breath.

Maya’s wolf senses flared. The forest reeked of fear: icy, bitter, alive. She didn’t flinch. Paws planted. Fangs gleamed. Even the stars waited. So did she. Muscles coiled. Eyes wide, jaws clenched. Each breath slow, sharpened.

Come on out. Let’s dance.

The darkness replied with a raspy shriek. Its cold breath sliced through the trees, choking the wind’s voice. Wings cloaked in shadow, scythed overhead.

A nightmare reeking of blood and rot. Where it passed, death followed, snuffing out any glimmer of hope.

Maya glimpsed molten-red eyes and, beneath them, an exposed, hollow chest cavity. Its hooked beak split open like mandibles, ravenous for grieving hearts. Old tales called it:

Teyollohcuani, the heart-eater.

The old stories never spoke of the hunt, nor of the nahual guardians like Maya. They never captured why these nightmares remain stories.

Nor did they capture the searing, ancient duty burning in her bones.

But Maya knew. She was the wolf, and this was her land to guard.

A blood-red gaze froze all life in the forest. Obsidian talons carved the sky as the Heart-eater plunged towards Maya.

She sprang aside. Her paws floated above the earth.

Teyollohcuani preyed on its victims by paralyzing them beneath the weight of guilt and grief, feasting on hearts rife with fear and doubt. Its bloody gaze seared, blocking any attempt at courage.

Maya hesitated mid-pounce. She remembered her clan, her abuela’s teachings.

Perfection is expected; failure is unacceptable.

Her heart stumbled beneath the weight of her memories. Exposed and laid bare. A compelling desire for confession swept over her. The Teyollohcuani’s shriek cracked through the night as it circled overhead.

The forest went silent.

Maya felt the sensation of her heart floating; pulled in by the Teyollohcuani. Her chest ached with the memory of judgment. Abuela’s voice offered no mercy, roaring in her ears. Failure has no place in our clan.

Her eyes sharpened. Muscles tightened as she commanded them to move. One step forward. Another step. Maya’s fear burst into focus. Old instincts roared to life.

No spirit, no power will twist a nahual's heart. Not mine.

Maya darted clear as the Teyollohcuani dove toward her. A near miss. Closer than any has ever come. She bared her ivory fangs at the creature, a challenge, a mockery.

No time for thought, only the sharp moment of the hunt.

This dance has gotten old; its pattern was now obvious. Maya dug in her paws, ready for its next strike. The shadow-creature flared its wings, angered by the wolf’s defiance. Silver moonlight cast its monstrous silhouette.

Its gaze met hers, now glowing amber. In a flash, it sliced through the sky like foul lightning. Ivory fangs gleamed. A bone-crunching snap. A torn, agonized screech.

The Teyollohcuani’s neck burst, showering the forest floor with black blood. Its body crashed to the ground. The wolf’s fierce, triumphant howl echoed through the forest.

The beast’s bloody corpse hissed. Its black mass gurgled as it evaporated into the air. Nightmares birthed it, to nightmares it returns.

Stillness reclaimed the forest. She inhaled deeply; the trace aroma of copal released her tension.

Maya arched her wolf-form as the transformation took hold. Heat rippled through her as fur shimmered away, revealing copper skin; paws softened into hands.

Warm clothes followed a breath later, as if gifted by the moonlight itself. A small mercy of nahual magic.

In the moon’s silver glow, her human form stepped from her wolf shadow. She had an athletic build and stood just over 167 centimeters (~5’6”). Her dark, damp hair hung loose around her shoulders.

She sauntered over to the spot where the Teyollohcuani had fallen. Its decayed body had fully vanished. Abuela’s memory rang again.

Well done, Maya, Beta of the Villalobos clan.

The night’s mist returned. Alone and winded, she listened to the forest’s heartbeat. Tonight, it was unsteady. She touched her woven bracelet, tracing its beads for calm—a habit older than her duties.

Tonight though, her fingers trembled against the weaves.

Calm felt as distant as Abuela’s mercy.

An ominous wind swept through her.

She clenched her jaw as pondering thoughts raced.

***

Maya strode out of the forest and into Vereluna’s quiet streets.

A small town where the moon speaks and the forest listens.

The slogan makes tourists swoon. She knew better. If only those people knew how accurate that slogan was.

The town was still. Lives remained untouched by the nightmares that loomed. Her legs were heavy. She thumbed her bracelet; the encounter in the forest replayed endlessly in her mind.

Footsteps behind her.

Maya’s pulse quickened. Her muscles tensed.

Another one?

No. These steps were familiar.

Her shoulders dropped. Her breathing relaxed. Somewhat.

MJ, her cousin and dearest friend, fell in beside her. She was just shy of Maya’s height. A wide-brimmed hat shadowed her loose, shoulder-length hair that swung freely, and copper-toned skin.

Her mismatched socks peeked above her boots, scuffing the gravel with every step. She’d never match if she could help it.

MJ didn’t look like much to others. Her frame was deceptively average. But she was just as much the wolf as Maya.

“Another night turning dirt and running circles,” MJ said, stifling a yawn. “We should charge for these patrols.”

She tossed Maya a tamarind candy. Maya, startled by the abrupt movement, swatted at it instinctively.

MJ exhaled sharply, pulling another candy from her pocket before popping it in her mouth.

“Tsk…You’re very tense tonight.”

“This was the third incursion this week,” Maya muttered. Her shoulder brushed against MJ’s. “The spirits are getting…bolder.”

“Maybe they are checking out the buffet table,” MJ joked.

“I wish things were as funny as you make them!” Maya snapped. Spirits shouldn’t be slipping through the veil this often.

MJ shot a side-eyed stare and shrugged. “I’m just saying, with more people clawing back the forests, wrapping themselves in glass and wires, the more we provoke the darkness. We’re practically ringing dinner bells.”

A low whistle slipped out, MJ’s self-soothing anthem, almost lost in the hush.

Maya pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to rub exhaustion away.

“It’s more than that. Something’s…off. I can feel it pulling my insides.”

“What you need to feel is the cool side of a pillow,” MJ said. “It’s not cursed. Probably.”

Maya grunted. “We should tell Abuela Xochi in the morning. See you at the clan house.”

MJ snapped a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am! Beta of the Villalobos clan, ma’am!”

“Lucky me.” Maya offered a dry smile before departing.

MJ’s rebellious spirit gave Maya some relief, but the encounter with the Teyollohcuani still lingered. The pulse of the unseen, the clamoring of the forest, and the veil being breached each pressed on her with new weight.

Her footsteps became heavier; the shifting dirt beneath her became more noticeable. Was something disturbing the spirits? Was MJ right? Were they tempting the darkness? The thought dried her throat.

The air felt stale, more uneasy.

Something’s not right—

and this is only the beginning.