I See Fire | Wattys 2021/22 Shortlist | ✔

Chapter Sixty

The sky had lightened in the weeks since Coyol's defeat, now that Fuego's creator was no longer around. No new smoke bolstered the clouds that hung low over the desert. The night was not dark. The sky retained the faintest trace of a glow, and one splotch in the edge of it looked stained with luminescent paint. I had never seen the moon, but the gods spoke of it having cycles, waning into darkness and waxing to a full circle again. This must be the brightest phase.

I kept a small fire in my hand on our hike up the mountain all the same. I hoped no person in the village or Centzonhuītznāhua in the desert would look up and see its light on the mountainside. We reached the sky-level without issue, though. I stood watch while the two gods took a rest break, talking softly amongst themselves.

I checked for Tezcat again. This time, my seeking-flame wavered faintly off to the side. I showed it to Chal and Quet, who just nodded. That was a completely different direction than we had gone last time. I could only assume we were headed towards the site of the battle, which meant Quet hadn't been kidding when he told me how much the sky-level shifted. With even the lightning scars fading in the grass, I was glad I had a guide.

We set out over the field. This time, the glow in the distance was visible long before we reached Emma's thicket. Neither god seemed worried about it, so the light at least didn't spell danger. I kept an eye out for Tzitzimime and Centzon Huītznāuhtin instead. By the time we drew close enough to see the thicket's silhouette, the field was bright for me to extinguish the light I was walking by. It was still nowhere near morning. We finally rounded the small stand of trees, and Chal pulled me to a stop.

Where Coyol once lay, a broad, glowing circle spread across the grass. White flowers trimmed its edges, which cradled between them a mesmerizing pattern of creamy white and soft grey, blotchy like a face after tears. Along one of its curves, I saw the faint shape of a woman in the markings. She lay in the same position Coyol had been.

Tezcat sat at the near side of the circle, his head on his knees. Quet set the crutches aside quietly and pulled a jacket from the bag he'd been carrying. Tezcat wasn't wearing one. Tochtli at his side, the wind god approached him. Tezcat startled when the jacket was draped around his shoulders, saw who had brought it, and put his head back down. Quet sat beside him and put an arm around his back.

Chal found a seat against a trunk at the thicket's edge. I joined her. Speaking didn't seem appropriate, so we let time pass in silence. I just watched the moon. At one point, a twitch of motion made me stiffen; I readied to rise, but it was only Tezcat moving his head to Quet's shoulder. I sank down again.

Quet and Chal had anticipated this. Did they just know Tezcat that well, or had this happened before?

Chal saw the questions in my eyes. Her fingers brushed mine, and for a moment, a glimpse of a vision filled my view. It was the scene before me, but not... the two gods were visibly younger, and what lay beyond them wasn't the moon. It was the rubble of the split house.

At last another motion stirred me from the torpor I had fallen into. Quet roused a near-asleep Tezcat and had Chal bring the crutches over. Tezcat leaned on them heavily as he got to his feet, favouring his prosthetic leg. He must have hiked all the way here. We took our time across the field and back down the mountain, guided by the light of my flame.

I had turned things over in my mind so many times by the time we got back to the village, I doubted I would fall asleep again. Chal pulled me aside a ways out from the first tents.

"Are you good to talk, or are you headed back to bed right now?" she said. "I heard you've been asking about half-death."

My pulse tripped, and anxiety rose in my stomach. I swallowed it down. "I'm good to talk."

She took me to a place where the kids sometimes played, where several large stones sat in a near-natural circle. She took a seat on one and gestured for me to take another. I did.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you more about half-death when I first told you it existed," said the goddess. "I don't know if it might have changed your mind, and I apologize for that."

Change my mind? After all we'd just been through? I had nearly lost my village, and I had played a key role in saving it. "We would have lost if I hadn't gone through Mictlan. I don't think anything would have been worse than Coyol winning."

She conceded to that.

"What didn't you tell me?" I said, not because I resented it, but because now that I could finally see a life ahead of me in my village, I simply wanted to know.

Chal sighed. "Two things. First, half-death means Mictlan reclaims you sooner. You will lose a decade or two off the life you would have lived otherwise."

That stung, but with everything on the scales, I still weighted Grillo Negro's safety more heavily. I didn't regret what I'd done.

Chal still had one more point. She lowered her eyes. "It also takes away the ability to make new life. You will not be able to have children."

I stared at her. My resolve, so ready to justify the consequences of everything I had done, crumbled like ash. No family of my own? It made such a devastating amount of sense, but nothing could have prepared me for this. Of everything I had fought for, this was the one that rooted deepest. A loss that cut me to my very core, then cut out that core, too. I felt gutted. Empty.

My voice cracked when I could finally form words. "Is there any way to fix it?"

"There is," said Chal, and I nearly started crying right then and there. "But you'll have to speak with Jem, and you'll likely want to speak with your family. Maybe even your whole village. It's not something to be taken lightly."

"Tell me," I said.

She did. Then she came over and hugged me as I lost my battle to the tears.