Secrets are never harmless.

Some scar, some fester, none truly fade.

In Vereluna, whatever sinks will claw its way back.

The Cuetzpalin snarled. Its maw blazed white-hot. Obsidian claws held high, raking the air as it crashed down toward Maya.

Maya’s limbs felt numb and stiff. Each breath stabbed her ribs. The onslaught of the monster’s tail had battered her near-senseless, each bruise a memory of pain, but this was her gamble. Herself, Ariel, MJ…everything rode on this next moment.

The monster swung wide, blind with rage. Maya lunged. Every muscle screamed with all the sparse energy it had left, her vision blurred and red.

Claws grazed against her back—the near miss set her nerves ablaze. Too wide. In the monster’s hubris, it didn’t expect the wolf to lunge for the jugular. 

Cursed blood pulsed under her fangs as they clamped on its throat. The sheer impact flipped the beast; Maya’s jaws tore through its foul-smelling flesh. A desperate garble-cry rattled the night.

Nothing more than a thief, and a coward.

All you could do was insult and steal what you couldn’t devour.

Tiny embers flitted into the air from the Cuetzpalin’s evaporating corpse. Maya shook her muzzle of the foul smell of tar and ash. Some of the dancing sparks brushed through her and MJ’s fur. 

For a moment, it reminded her of the ofrenda candles back home, their soft glow brightening all the pictures.

A surge washed through her. Part of her tonalli had returned, but not fully. A hollowness lingered, like a half-filled glass, a space still wanting.

Maya’s ears rose; MJ’s breathing became noticeable. Faint, but steady.

A grotesque hiss ripped through the silence. The second Cuetzpalin split its jaw wide, spewing a stream of fire that burned bright with stolen tonalli.

Maya darted. The intense heat singed her tail. The ache from the last beast still lingered in her bones. She kept pace, barely, as the flames screamed after her. She leaped. Another. Too close. The fire chased, never stopping.

“Foolish Beta,” the monster jeered, smoke curling from its mouth. “Run all you want. Your fear burns deeper than any fire. Watch as it all turns to ash.”

Fire roared louder. Her paws scraped against the earth, driven by pure instinct. No thoughts, only the desperate need to survive. The Cuetzpalin spun, blasting flames, wrapping itself in a wall of stolen fire and hate.

“Give in. Let the flames of fear take you.”

There—

A stutter in its flames. Its intensity was still present, but less frequent. If I can force it to use up its flames, I might stand a chance.

Maya bolted forward. She veered wide, then cut in close. Searing flames scraped her fur, heat curling along her flanks. The pattern was working: tempt, feint, close the gap, draw the fire. Smoke and ash rolled into the air. Her moment was nearing.

The Cuetzpalin hissed, jerking its head. Its jaws clenched, then snapped open again. Smoke coughed from its maw in sputters. It was wearing down.

Pain stabbed through Maya’s ribs. Fatigue gripped her. Muscles stiffened like dried clay. Her legs buckled beneath her. Breathing thickened, like dragging air through sand. Her previous wounds screamed, grinding against every nerve.

How much more does this thing have left?

Obsidian claws raked the ground. The Cuetzpalin rose its head, tongues of fire flicking from its mouth. Maya shifted. Pain flared. Her limbs locked; lungs burned.

She hesitated.

Pain clamped down as flames surged toward her.

The ground stirred.

A twitch of a paw. A groan.

An icy cough cracked beneath the smoke.

MJ!

Maya’s heart caught. A surge of hope flared.

Her pulse quickened as MJ shifted near the Cuetzpalin’s feet. MJ rose, shaking, eyes clouded, limbs failing.  The Cuetzpalin turned, still pouring its flames. Too slow. It couldn’t see what came next.

MJ lunged. Shaky. Clumsy. But just enough. Ivory fangs crunched on the beast’s heel. A distraction.

The monster snarled, twisting in pain—

Maya moved. Every cell in her body exploded.

A thundering crash.

Maya slammed into the Cuetzpalin, her fangs snapped shut on its nape. They toppled—a savage, growling mass of Maya, MJ, and the monster. She crushed the monster’s throat beneath her paw. 

A feral snarl ripped through the silence as she tore into its jugular.

Thick, tar-like ichor splattered across the forest floor. Ragged death-cries rattled through the trees, shaking branches overhead.

Wisps of fire flickered from the beast’s body, drifting up through the wolves and out toward the town.

Maya let out a deep breath of relief. She collapsed, lungs heaving, muscles battered and spent. MJ doubled over beside her, groggy from the sudden surge to aid the kill.

Their tonalli, the soul’s fire, returned. Fractured and incomplete, still weak but enough to rekindle strength in their bones.

MJ transformed first. Her wolf-form slipped away like a thrown bedsheet, revealing her trembling human body. Deep, sunburn-like scars marred her arms, burns carved by stolen tonalli flames. She winced, rubbing the raw flesh, the pain stubborn and unyielding. Her rubbing did nothing. The ache only deepened.

Maya followed, gritting her teeth as her own wolf-form melted away. Sharp, searing agony ripped along her arms, the scars have spread past her shoulders to her biceps. Her hands twitched, nerves ablaze and overloaded.

This has never happened before. Frigid panic gripped her. Why now?

She shook it off, groaning with every aching step as she stumbled toward MJ.

“MJ! Are you—” Maya’s voice cracked with worry.

“No,” MJ rasped, forcing a bitter laugh. “How do you get a sunburn at night?”

Tears rolled down Maya’s cheeks. She reached out, clutching MJ. Too tight. Relief flooded through her in waves. “I’m glad your spirits haven’t broken.”

They held each other briefly, comfort against the shadow of death.

“Those scars aren’t burns like mine. Yours look…worse.”

Maya didn’t answer. She pressed her hands to the marks. To soothe? Or to hide?

Her voice trembled. “We need to get back and assess the south ward.”

***

They emerged at the edge of the south ward. A scorched patch of wilted cacti marked where the proud sentinel had stood. MJ’s eyes widened; the damage hidden beneath the chaos.

MJ frowned. “It looks worse than I thought.”

Guilt washed over Maya. She’d been the last to perform the ritual. Her memory blurred. She’d rushed it, distracted by the enigmatic pull and the pounding headaches.

This is my fault. I have to make it right.

“We have to shore up the ward,” Maya said, voice shaky. “It’s weak, but still alive. If we revitalize it—”

“Hold on,” MJ interrupted. “It’s nowhere near the ritual’s time. If we try now—”

“There’s no other choice,” Maya snapped. “If we wait, other wards could fall. The Crimson Moon’s looming presence is already stirring these incursions. Without the wards, we’re defenseless.”

“This isn’t as easy as you make it sound. A patch job won’t hold through the night.”

Maya winced. The scars flared. The pull and the headaches returned, sharp and insistent.

“No. But this is on me. I’ll fix it.”

“What do you mean ‘no’? We can’t do this alone.”

“This is mine to carry,” Maya retorted. “We patch the ward and stand guard. The clan can’t know.”

“Are you serious?! Since when do you keep secrets from the clan?”

“Imagine if they find out. The ward’s broken. Spirits nearly broke into town because of me. I can’t let them down. This is my responsibility.”

MJ’s side-eye gaze burned with disbelief and worry.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

Pain seared through Maya again, teeth clenched.

“The secret is balance. We’re unbalanced now. Sometimes secrets need to be kept from the clan too.”

MJ crossed her arms with a sharp huff. “You sound just like him.”

Maya choked, lost for words. She knew exactly who.

***

Dawn crept in as Maya and MJ perched on a high branch overlooking the south ward. Their patch ritual held. For now. Tonalli embers flittered into the pale sky.

There had been no further incursions during their watch.

Maya exhaled a fragile relief. Ariel’s condition had stabilized at the library, still weak, but alive.

MJ avoided eye contact. The tension in her body—and her spirit—was undeniable. Her last words ricocheted through Maya’s mind.

You sound just like him.

Wildflowers sprouted through the ward’s scorched earth—off-season, unfamiliar, out of place. The ritual had masked old scars but revealed new ones.

Hmph. Wildflowers. I guess MJ sensed something all along.

Maya broke the deafening silence.

“Life’s a hike,” she croaked.

MJ snorted softly, no eye contact. “Still wearing sandals.”

The sun’s first rays spilled across Vereluna, illuminating all forms of scars.

Some healed.

Some raw.

But the ones buried deep—

Will always claw their way back.