In Vereluna, ritual anchors everything—

Strengthened by time and pressure.

But once broken—

Not even time can mend cracks.

Mid-morning. The sun’s rays filtered through the thinning clouds. Maya wrapped up her tasks on the South Ward. The patch ritual had done its job. It held long enough to perform its ritual properly.

Maya checked the surrounding soil once more, ensuring it looked unremarkable, then slipped the remaining wildflowers into her satchel. Unnatural and off-season, the wildflowers would have raised many questions.

Evidence removed. Routine preserved.

She continued her patrol, heading west, toward the town’s second lake. If only the townsfolk knew the significance of Vereluna’s north and west lakes.

Memories sprang with her steps—a younger Maya, wornfooted, struggling to keep pace with Abuela Xochitl’s steady marching.

Five points. Four at the edges, one at the center of town. Each one a ward, a sentinel hidden in plain sight.

“They keep the outsiders out,” Abuela Xochi had said. “Each one a ritual at its own time. Morning, noon, dusk, and midnight. Miss a ritual and they falter. Monsters will slip through.”

The warning pressed at Maya’s nerves, fresh as the first time she heard it.

Maya’s memory halted. The now-familiar headaches pounded behind her eyes, the demanding pull at her bones, unerringly pointed her toward the town’s center. Toward Ariel.

The sense had only sharpened since last night: Ariel’s voice in delirium, troubling recounting as she teetered on the edge of death. Too close to the truths that could unravel the secret, the veil, everything.

Today’s early morning memories flickered: vanquishing the Cuetzpalin, checking in on Ariel, watching the heat return to her body, the soft glow of tonalli on her face.

She had lived—enough to reassure, not enough to comfort.

The headaches pulsed with the same intensity as the pull. She forced herself onward. Stay along the patrol line. Stay on routine. Fight the sensation.

Not yet. Not until all suspicions are gone.

Maya’s knees creaked, threatening to buckle with each step. Her bones still ached from last night. The Cuetzpalin’s icy intelligence and taunts scraped at her nerves.

Guilt twisted her gut. She’d nearly failed. Almost lost MJ. Almost let Ariel, an innocent, die from tonalli theft. Almost let everything slip: the secret, the balance, the promise.

Her shaking fingers traced the worn beads of her bracelet, thumbing its weaves until her pulse slowed, somewhat.

Mi Nena. I almost broke my promise.

The words echoed. Worn photo. Marigolds. Micaela’s weak cries from a day she tried to outrun.

Maya winced. Her ribs throbbed from the Cuetzpalin’s tail. Skin prickled where the monster’s flames had scorched her fur.

She ran her hand along the new scars on her shoulder. Raised, jagged, and sensitive, crawling farther down her arm than yesterday.

What are these? Why now?

A wave of dizziness forced her off the path. She caught herself on the nearest wall, waiting until the spots faded from her sight. Tourists passed by. Their wide-eyed, blissfully ignorant laughter filled the air.

The sound pulled at her. A flood of emotions crept in—sour and shapeless. Envy? Fear? Would it be better to be ordinary? To carry no weight or expectations?

No. You don’t get that luxury. Especially not after last night.

The memory stabbed. How she almost wished for failure. If she failed, at least she’d stop disappointing everyone.

No. She forced herself upright.

Don’t think like that. Don’t show weakness.

Maya gripped her side tight.

MJ, the clan, everything and everyone. They all depend on you.

With a half-swallowed cough, she masked her pain and kept moving.

Each footstep dragged. The gravel scraped under her heels. The sun’s light, more distant and hostile, hammered at her. The world felt indifferent to her unravelling.

Up ahead, she caught MJ in the crowd. Sleeves drawn, burns hidden, sharp grin missing. MJ looked smaller, weighed down. She hadn’t spoken to Maya since the patch at the south ward.

Their paths almost crossed in silence before MJ broke it.

“You look like shit,” MJ croaked. “You should take the day off.”

Maya fumbled for a reply.

“No. I’ve messed up enough. I won’t let last night happen again.”

MJ’s side-eye was sharp. She rubbed her forearm, winced, then snapped.

“Look, we both got wrecked, but we’re alive because of you. Don’t take this as a sign that you need to work more.”

Maya clutched her bracelet. She broke eye contact, shame burning through her.

MJ’s glare softened. Her voice dropped, trembling.

“Don’t be like him.”

She sniffed, wiped her cheek with her sleeve, and kept going.

“Just…take a break. Eat something at least. Please.”

MJ didn’t wait for an answer. A tear slid down her face as she departed.

Maya felt rooted to the ground. No words, just the ache in her chest from the shame. And the weight of MJ’s plea lingered as the world turned without her.

***

Sunlight drifted lower. The skies were painted orange and gold. The hour for the West ward was near. 

A headache thudded behind Maya’s eyes. The pull twisted, stronger, deeper, clawing at her bones. And her will.

Her already exhausted mind and body struggled to stay on path.

No. Don’t stray. Don’t break now. Not after all this.

The West ward laid under an old pier on Vereluna’s second lake. A large stone, ringed with obsidian and onyx. Hidden in plain sight. Lost to anyone but her clan.

Maya hovered on patrol. Her eyes glimpsed a clanmate in the distance, prepping the ritual. She scanned the crowd, ready to run interference on curious onlookers.

A sudden chill in the breeze.

Something shifted.

She stiffened.

There—

A flicker by the alleyway, a movement too sleek. Too dark.

Maya lurched into motion. Pain shot through bruised ribs as she bolted after it. Her body screamed, breath shallow. Cold sweat beading on her forehead.

She caught a glimpse of glassy eyes, lined with sharp quills, and a dog-otter sneer glinting in the dusk. Claws scraped against pavement. A long, flicking tail vanished around the corner.

Not again. Not here. Not with so many people outside.

She forced herself on, each stride battering at old wounds. Her head spun. Her vision blurred as sweat poured from her brow.

Maya tracked the scent—metallic, wrong, tangled with river mud and rotting reeds. Past a knot of trash cans and a trembling dog, the creature darted south.

An Ahuizotl? How did it get in? The wards should be working.

Maya’s mind flooded with thoughts: The wards, Abuela’s voice, MJ’s warning, her own failures, all tangled and tripping over each other.

The chase made its way to the South ward.

The Ahuizotl tensed. It was out of its element—better suited for brackish water bodies—trapped between street and alley, eyeing escape.

Maya stalked in, forcing through the pain. This was the hunt, pain can wait.

Too many people to shift. I’ll need to make this quick.

She drove it toward a shadowed corner. Fumbled for her obsidian knife in her satchel. Her grip was weaker but determined.

The Ahuizotl, low and snarling, sank deeper to where she wanted it.

Maya lunged.

Obsidian flashed in the moonlight. The blade slid home, but her arm shook. Her movement was clumsy and unclean from exhaustion.

The creature’s death wail rattled off the walls, then fizzled as its body hissed into sludge.

A cold jolt ran up her wrist.

The blade was lighter, cracked. A mouthful from the obsidian edge missing.

No time. Footsteps echoed down the street.

The incessant pull toward Ariel surged, biting at her bones as Maya stooped to wipe the black-red sludge, to clear what clues she could.

Panic set in. Her head pounded, but a moment of clarity forced her up. She leapt. Hands scraped against brick as she pulled herself up onto a roof overlooking the crime scene. Her breath caught in her throat, pulse thundering in her ears.

Ariel burst into the alleyway. Face pale and eyes wild, scanning the area.

Maya froze, still and silent. From above, she peeked over the roof’s edge.

Of course it’d be you. You’re persistent. You’re a magnet for these things, I swear. Always drawn to where you shouldn’t be. At least the body is gone.

Ariel struggled to catch her breath. She clutched her forehead before crouching, squinting at a glint in the remaining grime.

Maya watched as Ariel picked up the broken obsidian shard, turning it into the dim light before stuffing it in her pocket.

Ariel flinched, clutching her brow. The pain was visible. Familiar.

A strange feeling washed over Maya.

Resonant and cold.

One secret hidden.

One nearly lost.

How much longer can she hide the truth?