Then it’s time to go, and I wave my final good-bye. I fight the exhaustion in my bones. Mama Juanita used to tell us the story of La Vieja Tollussa, who put herself in a hundred-year sleep to outlive her enemies. But when she woke, her body had kept aging and ached too much to move. She used the last of her power to turn herself into a caterpillar because her journey was still not complete. As we leave the Meadow del Sol and take a path east, I carry that thought with me.
Agosto leads the way, followed by Rishi and Nova. I bring up the rear in case we have any surprise attacks. Though from what Agosto says, this place is deserted. We cut through dry weeds and patches of scorched woods. It’s colder here than in the other places we’ve traveled. Thorny vines, like black barbwire, wrap around the base of trees. Agosto calls this place the Wastelands del Este, what once was the Forest of Lights. The ground here is dry ash littered with tiny, gray pebbles, every tree an unmarked grave.
“Why are we going east?” Nova asks. He’s been moody and suspicious of everything the Meadowkin have said since I freed them. Granted, he has his reasons. I ate fruit and drank the wine, but it wasn’t nearly as much as Nova and Rishi. It made me forget where I needed to be. It made Nova think that his marks were healing. He walks with a semipermanent frown to my left while Rishi is unusually quiet to my right.
Agosto looks over his shoulder at Nova. “Because Kristi?e hid the path to Las Pe?as. I do not have the power to find it, but I believe the encantrix can. I will take you to the Alta Bruja’s temple.”
“You’ve been in that meadow a long time,” Nova says. “Sure you remember which way to go?”
The faun doesn’t answer. As we walk by, he lets his hands touch the burned tree trunks until the palms of his hands are as black as Nova’s.
“Long ago,” Agosto says, “the trees were majestic and white as the moon. When the fires came, they consumed everything. It was a living flame, out for blood.”
“What are these symbols?” I ask, tracing a rune in the bark.
Agosto hobbles over to me. “It is the mark of the starlarks. They lived in the Forests of Lights before.”
“It’s hard to imagine anything living here,” Rishi says.
“All lands change for the worse when the people do not fight back. Now there is nothing left.”
“But if the Devourer drains the land dry,” Rishi says, “what’ll she do for power?”
“Move on to the next realm,” Agosto says.
A dark thought grips my heart. It is my turn to shape the galaxies. “If she had enough power, could the Devourer leave Los Lagos?”
Agosto nods.
From here, the scenery starts to take shape. The trees give way to a steep downward slope covered in tall, yellow grass. The land undulates in rolling, purple hills that stretch into the flat lands of the horizon. Polished stones jut out of the ground, like the crooked teeth of the earth. Off in the distance, there’s a ring of enormous pillars that remind me of Stonehenge. The Alta Bruja’s temple. There’s so much grass around the stone pillars that it looks as if the earth has begun to swallow it up.
The sky is a powdery blue with swirls of purple clouds. The breeze carries the scent of lavender and wildflowers. It’s amazing that the same land that is home to the River Luxaria and the Wastelands can also be home to this. I wonder, if we return home after being gone for so long, will it look different to me?
But one look at the worry on Agosto’s face takes my smile away. We get closer to the edge of the forest where we reach a dead end.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The land,” he says. “It’s different.”
“Are you sure we didn’t go the wrong way?”
Rishi bites her bottom lip. “You said it’s been a while since you left the meadow. Maybe we did go the wrong way.”
I grab the map from Nova’s back pocket. It’s been folded and unfolded so many times, the edges are starting to fray. I find where we are on the map. The edge of the Wastelands, west of Laguna Roja. North of us should be Las Pe?as, and beyond that, the heart of the land—the labyrinth. But it isn’t.
“It seems Kristi?e hid more than the path,” Agosto says. “She hid the entire mountain.”
28
The Deos don’t act for us.
The Deos act through us.
—Patricio Mortiz, Book of Cantos
“How do you move a mountain?” Nova asks.
“You know how they say if the mountain won’t go to you,” Rishi says, “then you go to the mountain? Maybe the mountain really did go this time.”
I smile, and Nova gives her a long look.
The wind whips around us, like it’s pushing us back to where we came from. My stomach is in a thousand tangled knots. I wet my dry lips, savoring the crisp air. The earth is dry in patches and bright green in others. Stone paths cut across the land, creating a patchwork quilt. As much as I want to laugh at Rishi’s joke, I have to wonder: Where is this mountain?
“When I was little,” I say, “my dad used to say, if he ever lost me, he’d just follow the starlight we leave behind.”
Rishi turns to me with sad eyes. “You never talk about your dad.”
“I don’t know where that came from. He was talking about us running around the supermarket or the mall. Still. I just remembered.”
Rishi takes my hand in hers but lets go when Nova wedges himself between us. “Well, Captain, it’s not dark enough for starlight.”
I purse my lips. “Says the boy made of light.”
“I’m not made of light,” he counters. “I conjure it.”
I roll my eyes and step closer to the edge of the cliff. The way down is steep and rocky but not unmanageable. It’s quiet here except for the rush of wind and Agosto’s heartbeat in my ears. I can still feel his essence from healing him, a side effect of touching someone with my power. Like when I tried to hurt Nova back home. It makes me think of what the Devourer said to me, that she could hear me because of the fear in my heart. Why can’t I feel a trace of her power?
“It’s strange,” I say.
“Which part?” Rishi asks.
I point to the horizon. “It’s not hot here, but the air on the horizon ripples like there’s a heat wave.”
“Wouldn’t that be the Bone Valle?” She squints and holds her hand like a sun visor over her eyes. “If I didn’t want someone to come into my lair and I was this powerful bruja, I’d make sure no one would see it.”
Look twice. Nothing in Los Lagos is what it seems. The land is fluid, yes, but even if the Devourer destroyed the mountains of Las Pe?as the way she’s destroyed so many other things, we’d still be able to see the labyrinth.
I raise my hands and feel for the glamour on the land. I remember Mayi from Lula’s circle uses her powers to change her eye color and straighten her nose all the time. But sometimes, when I look at her from the corner of my eye, or between blinks, the glamour reveals itself. That’s small magic. Magic used for vanity doesn’t end well, my mom would say.
Even from miles away, I can feel the ripple of magic across the land. I relax my eyes, and for a fraction of second, the ghost of a mountain ridge appears. Then a force pushes against me, like a punch to the gut. I gasp for air and stumble back.
“What is it?” Agosto asks, rushing to my side.
“What do your bruja eyes see?” Rishi asks dramatically. Then she gives Nova the finger when he snickers at her. So much for their truce.