Jem.
The realization—the memories—hit me like a bucket of ice-water dumped over my head. The heat cleared as something else surged through me. An all-too familiar fear gripped my body in iron bands, setting my muffled senses alight. In a good way. The gods. I was here for the gods, and Emma, and Jem. I couldn't burn this place. We needed Mictlantecuhtli's help to defeat Coyol.
Gods, what was I doing?
Fuego had wanted to burn Jem.
I staggered with the magnitude of my realization, gasping for a breath that seemed to elude me. Where had my sanity gone? I struggled to remember the last few trials in any great detail. When had my mind blurred? I followed it through the blood-river, and into the bushes...
Right on cue, the hunger reared its ugly head. Had Adriana been another entity standing before me in that moment, I would have punched her. Strangled her, even. I couldn't very well punch myself, so I settled for a savage beat-back of the encroaching flames. I had a mission to complete, and Fuego or not, I would never forgive myself if my own fire touched a single thing or person I held dear. I wasn't here to burn things. I was here to help.
Even Fuego seemed to back off at my renewed resolution. The world sharpened into focus again, and the overwhelming desire to give in to the magic's wishes paled. I winced as the blisters on my hand stung against my grip on my walking stick. When was the last time I'd felt that pain? I clenched my hand tighter, letting it ground me. If I could feel it, I was myself. I had to stay myself.
I walked straight away from the boulder field, keeping my eyes locked on the way ahead. In all of twenty steps, my mind had drifted to a tuft of dry grass.
I had nearly convinced myself that I could hold that resolution.
My temporarily iron-clad will crumbled like burnt tinder. Was I even safe to be around? I wanted this to end. I wanted out, so someone else could take over and I could go back to everything I wanted to do before the gods and Fuego and Coyol messed my whole life up. How long would I have to suffer this? If I brought Tepepia and Grillo Negro together, how long would it take to find a grounding? Could I even risk being near them? I needed Jem and Emma on my side. They could unite the two villages and bring news of it back to me while I kept my distance, until I could tame this fire.
The already daunting task loomed over my head, a mountain taller than I'd ever had to climb. No path traced its side. Nobody had done this before. Nobody could show me the way. Only I could fix my problems, which meant I was in this alone.
I nearly stopped again right there, standing helpless on the cracked and barren ground in the middle of Mictlan. But that wasn't why I was here. First I had to find the gods. They had to defeat Coyol. Then I could tackle whatever came next.
If I could keep it together that long.
I gripped my stick again. The pain was a thin comfort. I had to take this one step at a time. First, no more burning. Not unless it was an emergency. Not until I had a grounding. This time, I would keep my word.
A wisp of smoke curled up past my hand. I watched wearily as the tip of my walking stick swam in another thin veil of grey.
Did I have control over that vow, even?
When would this end?
With each repetition of the thought, the smoke grew stronger. I started walking again.
Fifty paces further, the edge of a cliff lopped off the land and tumbled down into an oddly fuzzy landscape. I stopped at the edge. What stretched out before me was a sight that stilled me for long, astonished seconds. It was a forest, thick and dark, its trees furred with a dense layer of needle-like leaves. I had never seen living trees. I belted my walking stick across my back and swung myself over the cliff's edge. It was rough, and the climb down did not take long. I waited at the bottom and focused on blocking out every available Fuego fuel, one by one, while Tochtli took Grifo to a spot with ledges they could jump down like stairs.
The forest was dark, with a soft floor that muffled my footsteps, and an oppressive silence that amplified them. Things lurked among the trees, but my walking stick smoked constantly now. At the sight of it, the things retreated.
The forest ended at the edge of a broad, foggy moor. The ground crackled beneath my feet when I stopped. I looked down to find a ring of peat there crumbling like the grass around the jaguar had. I stepped away before it burned. No. Not that. You can't burn that either.
I was getting dizzy from the constant battle to keep my magic off of things, and the parallel fight against temptation was just as exhausting. Was this because I had chosen to let it out, or used too much too recently? Fuego burned addictively: stronger, more compelling, and less controlled every time it got out. Even with my vow, my steps left singed grass and dehydrated moss behind me as I followed Tochtli to the bank of another river. Fog hung heavy on the water, which was clear and colourless like a river should be. It sizzled as I waded into it. Just a little further...
I was wrenched off my feet. Beneath the glassy surface was a current as strong as a spring flood. I lost my walking stick, and my flailing hands closed on the first thing they encountered: the rocky river bottom. It was no deeper than knee-height. Bloodying my fingers on the stones, I dragged myself back to shallower water.
This water also quenched my fire, it seemed, for Tochtli cowered only a little as she trotted up to me on the bank. She crouched in front of me. What did she want me to do this time? When I continued to fix her with a perplexed stare, she hopped off the bank and stood in the water. Like the wind in the field, the current did not seem to affect her. Guide of the dead. I pulled off my belt and cinched it around her neck like a collar, then gripped it for dear life. She waded deeper into the water, dragging me behind. Grifo struggled after us.
After the river, the moor stretched another kilometer in the fog, then dipped into another waterway. We crossed it, walked again, and found another. The pattern repeated like the bands around my wrists. Nine times. Nine rivers. Nine mossy swards. I found the gods' tracks once more on the fifth of these. They were still ahead of me.
At last the ground gave way to solid earth again. My clothes dried in minutes as we ascended a long, shallow incline towards what I could already sense was the end of this journey. We had made it. Somewhere ahead, in the darkness that dwelled over the top of this ridge, was the lord of the underworld.
We had almost crested the slope when Tochtli stopped short. Her ears went back and her tail went down. Before I could say a word, she bolted into the low hills.