“The opening to this cave is on the map,” I say, “but if you hadn’t come to our rescue, we’d never have found it.”
“Many witches and humans alike have come to these lands. Some seek to steal its treasures. Others seek to make deadly pacts with the Devourer—the desperate searching for their dead. We used to offer passage to those who landed on this side of Los Lagos, but we closed the caves off long ago.”
“What changed?”
“The Devourer’s strength grows every eclipse. My kin and I attempted to band with the other tribes this side of the labyrinth. Our loss was nearly total. The Forests of Lights were burned to the ground. Now they are wastelands. The desert land of Bone Valle was created from an old witch village during the first rebellion.”
“First?” I ask. “There’s been more than one?”
Madra nods somberly. “You ask why we do not join you. We have lost everything to the Devourer. All we can do is try to stay alive. Even now, the dead earth of Bone Valle encroaches on our territory as the Devourer feeds off the Tree of Souls.”
“That’s horrible,” Rishi says.
“What if the Devourer could no longer feed off the tree?” I ask.
“That is a question that has cost thousands of lives.” Madra looks to Rishi with motherly love, then to me with her usual stoic face. “I do not have to remind you she is at the most risk.”
“I get it,” Rishi says. “I’m human, blah, blah.”
“Your disregard for the dangers of this land tells me you do not, as you say, get it. But your path is your own to take.”
“Hold up,” Nova says, making a T with his hands. “If we take the fork on the right, that means we end up at the Forest of Lights. You said that was burned to a crisp.”
“Yes. The Devourer won’t chase after you in a wasteland.”
Nova looks unsure.
“You asked for my advice, and I am giving it to you. Follow this tunnel to the other side of the caves. The path leads to the fork in the road. Keep to the right path through the Wastelands del Este and to the mountain pass. Be wary. Your presence here is known. Servants of the Devourer roam the land and report any strangers they see.”
“The maloscuros,” I say.
“Among other beasts,” Madra says. “The saberskins, the giants guarding the labyrinth, and sea monsters swim in Mar del Fin. Travel swiftly and look twice at anyone or anything. Los Lagos is a fluid land, and so are its inhabitants.”
I feel like I’m walking myself off a plank. A chorus of off-key caws mark our final good-bye.
“Remember.” Madra’s deep voice follows me and echoes against stone. “At the fork in the road, keep to the right path. The Devourer does not free the power she takes. Be careful you are not caught by her shadows.”
I find myself turning to Nova, who starts to lead us into the tunnel. And I think to myself, It’s a good thing I’ve got a boy made of light.
21
In the woods, I found the love de mis amores.
He was there at the end de mis dolores.
—Folk song, Book of Cantos
We walk down the tunnel in silence. Rishi kicks stones out of the way. They roll like dice down our path. Nova cracks his knuckles over and over. I think the lines on his arms are stretching farther up. Why won’t he talk about it? I think about the recoil of my magic. I examine my hands. All I’ve had to show so far are bruises that have begun to fade. Passing out isn’t exactly my idea of fun, but I wonder if it’s better than permanent marks.
I listen to the steady hum of life beneath the tunnel. The stones, the minerals, even the stream that runs through the caves. I can feel all of it calling to me like a long-lost friend. Madra said the Devourer is sucking up all the life from these lands. If there is nothing left, would she try to find a new place to destroy?
“You all right, Ladybird?” Nova asks, not looking back at me.
“Just wishing I’d brought a bottle of painkillers.”
“Why can you heal others but not yourself?” Rishi asks.
“We’re not supposed to use our powers for our own benefit,” I say.
“That sucks.”
“It’s not so bad,” I lie. I should say, It isn’t as bad as Nova’s, but I don’t. I wonder why my recoil is different from his. My mom says there aren’t truly evil or good brujas. That our powers are the same blessings and it’s up to us to choose how to use them. Perhaps the marks come when a brujo uses his powers for bad. They cover Nova’s hands, forearms. They ring around his heart… Maybe I’m trying to see a good in Nova that doesn’t exist.
Rishi picks up her pace to walk at my side. She’s a funny sight in her black dress and broken black wings, but that’s what I love about her. She’s completely and unabashedly herself, no matter who’s around.
“You’re practically a bird,” I say, playfully tugging at her hair.
“That’s what I want to be in my next life,” she says. “Being people is too hard sometimes. I just want to shower in birdbaths and fly like the wind.”
Nova looks over his shoulder briefly. His bright eyes trace my face. Then he shakes his head. Whatever he might have said is dispelled into the dark of the tunnel. He keeps walking with his hands in his pockets.
“Where did tall, dark, and ugly come from?” Rishi whispers.
Ugly is the last word I’d use to describe Nova. He walks with his head down, and I try to picture him walking down the street. If I saw him walking opposite me, before I knew him, I’d probably cross to the other side. Now that I know him, I want him walking with me.
“Rishi, be nice.”
“I guess if you’re into muscles and tattoos or whatever,” Rishi says.
“He’s a family friend.”
“If that’s what you call a hired lackey.” She makes a face. “It’s like I’m seeing a whole new side of you. I’m not complaining. It’s just that you’ve been this kind of blurred version of yourself and now what I see is more crystal clear.”
“Are you freaked?”
“Do I look freaked?” She looks at me, trying to pull me into a staring contest.
I shove her playfully. “Not enough.”
Her wings brush against my arm. Nova looks at us again.
“I’m glad you’re here though,” I tell her. “You have to know that this isn’t a fairy tale.”
She slings her arm around my shoulders. “You’re magic, Alex. You’re like my human shield.”
Nova reaches the end of the tunnel first. Tiny creatures flutter through miles and miles of sharp-green grass as tall as Nova’s shoulders. The ring of sun and the crescent moon travel across the swirling, purple sky. I’m thankful the gloomy, gray rain is gone. I’m thankful the moon and sun aren’t close enough to eclipse. I’m thankful we still have time.