Sol could feel a change within himself—an understanding that settled instinctively into his body. The golden flames did not consume matter, interacting with the trees in a cycle. The flames nurtured the trees, and the trees nurtured the flames. They releasing a breath Sol had never noticed before.

  Exhaled by the greenery cloaked in his sacred fire. Then absorbed as fuel to feed the resplendent flames.

  He ignored the growing sense of danger approaching him, focusing instead deep within himself, paying close attention to the changes overtaking his body. Then came a sharp ache, a burning sensation blooming inside his chest. His body cried out in agony.

  “You’ve shut your heart for a very long time. This will hurt—bear with it. You’ll need my power to face what’s coming,” Huehueteotl whispered into Sol’s mind.

  He gave Sol no time to contemplate further before the world came to a standstill. Fire slowed into languid waves, and the menacing shadows closing in froze in place. Their expressions, caught as they faced his flames, stoked Sol’s pride.

  A smug smile tugged at his lips just as the pain intensified tenfold. Sol screamed as something began to brand itself into his chest. He tried to claw at the pain, but he couldn’t move—his mind severed from his body.

  “Let me take control,” Huehueteotl said.

  The world turned cold, sensation draining away until numbness replaced everything. Sol watched like a distant spectator while his body spasmed, teeth grinding as every muscle flexed under the pain. The process felt endless.

  As a disembodied soul, he witnessed the growth of his turquoise gem form between his clavicles. Even in his detached state, he could feel the thrumming power within it—the pulse of life beating in rhythm with his heart, though at another’s pace for now.

  He tried to push the help away, but like a child throwing a tantrum, his rebellion amounted to nothing in the face of true power.

  Huehueteotl sighed at the ignorance of youth, allowing his power to flow freely into Sol to complete a transformation long delayed. What took most chosen moments had taken Sol a decade of stubborn resistance.

  Even now, force was required if Huehueteotl did not wish to lose this chosen entirely. The watching shadows at the edge of the golden fire were not something Sol could face alone.

  He looked to the north and shook his spectral form. Matters concerning the death gods would have to wait.

  “You are light. You support the change in all things.”

  Huehueteotl poured the last of his gathered faith into Sol’s gem, planting a divine seed before time resumed its flow. The god’s presence faded, though Sol could still feel the lingering connection between them.

  Whatever had been done left Sol disoriented. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and the entire ordeal had been miserable—even with divine aid. The out-of-body experience was something he hoped never to endure again.

  Chittering echoed from the edge of his golden flames. Tall, black, skeletal forms lingered in the shadows, their true faces hidden behind wide tree trunks.

  Sol’s skin crawled as corruption wafted from the creatures, sending his mind, heart, and body screaming in warning. The gem in his chest ached as he drew power from his core. He could feel a dormant spirit awakening within the golden fire—draining his divinity as it grew, nurtured by the flames.

  Unfortunately, Sol knew it wouldn’t awaken in time to help against the horrendous beings that, one by one, began to overcome their fear of the light.

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  He unhooked the machete from his waist and unsheathed it. The razor edge gleamed, meticulously maintained through obsessive care. Like forging, sharpening allowed Sol to lose himself completely in the task.

  The blade he now held was his best work yet—a culmination of a decade of relentless effort. Chosen were not merely humans capable of communing with gods.

  They were supernatural beings reshaped by divinity. No longer mortal. Capable of sustaining themselves on faith alone—semigods sponsored by greater gods, gifted power to expand a pantheon, a clan, or a family. Every god’s demands were as peculiar as they were unique.

  Sol had never understood why he, among so many gifted souls in his village, had been chosen. It hadn’t been a matter of scarcity. Yet it was he who stepped forward and accepted the crushing weight of responsibility.

  He had tried to prove himself worthy—working day and night without rest, battling the dark, hunting until his body failed him. And still, only now had his god granted him this chance.

  He tightened the grip on his wrist guard, grounding himself in the future he desired. Jimena's gift a reminder of that want.

  Strength. Power. Never bowing again.

  He wanted fire. He wanted to burn everything in his way.

  The bitterness within him ignited into a blazing pyre, feeding on his emotions and fueling the growing pain—and power—within his chest.

  “I hear you!” a childish voice rang inside his mind, loud and careless, like a child unaware of their own volume.

  Sol shook his head at the strangeness and forced it aside, just as he once had with Huehueteotl’s incoherent whispers long ago. Now was not the time.

  His focus returned to the strange creatures as they finally stepped into the light.

  Grotesque creatures never meant to leave the shadows emerged into the firelight. Saliva dripped from exposed teeth lacking lips or cheeks, while their mandibles opened and shut with the harsh thud of carapace striking carapace. Their smooth, glossy bodies reflected the golden flames, which kept them at bay as they advanced.

  The first dashed at him with tremendous speed the moment it crossed a certain distance. An instinctive hunger overcoming fear when it caught his scent.

  Its sickled limbs clanged violently against his machete, the impact overwhelming Sol instantly—even with only one of its sickles.

  The second would have taken his arm if not for the metal plate protecting it.

  Sol tried to focus, but the voice echoing in his head and the pain in his chest shattered his concentration. Fear crept into his heart at the sight of the monsters before him. The second creature stepping fully into his flames nearly broke his inflated confidence.

  If he hadn’t noticed the difference in corruption emanating from them, Sol would have fled—his pride and anger revealed as nothing more than hot air.

  The truth was, he had never faced anything stronger than himself. Never fought an opponent so utterly inhuman. The disorientation and constant pain only worsened the situation.

  Sol drew a deep, stabilizing breath as he dodged their strikes. Though his power was lacking compared to theirs, they were nowhere near as fast as he was. The corruption wafting from their bodies visibly thinning the longer they remained within his flames.

  Still, the fire cloaking the grass could only purge what it touched.