"You're back!"

The children's exclamations were nearly drowned out by the blast of wind and dust the hurdled inside after the feminine figure currently struggling to close the exit and once again seal the library from the storm outside. A few of the boys rushed to her aid, and soon the hurricane was muted by the heavy thud of the door and click of the lock. Fuega, her hair a disheveled mess, pulled the collar of shirt down from her nose where she had avoided breathing in the sands and took the first 'clean' breath she had had since she left. Immeadiately, she walked to Lluvio and knelt alongside him.

Somehow through the pain he managed a small smile. "You're back," he echoed in a faint voice. The Book of Life as well perked up, as though to greet her. "You took so long that the kids were starting to get worried."

"Even if Chakal's bandits make it through this weather, the horse is far enough away by now that they shouldn't be able to find us," she dismissed. "Our tracks should be gone by now too."

"I was worried too, you know."

The added comment left her in temporary silence until the Book hovered nearer. Taking it by both hands, she guided it into her lap before wiping her glasses free of dirt and setting them upon her nose once more. They were running out of time, and it was up to her whether or not they still had a chance. There was a hardened fury in her eyes, a set determination as that of a doctor prepped for an extensive, dangerous surgery. As if sensing her fire, Jane and Sanjay brought over a few items they had found in order to begin the repairs—including ink, a couple dip pens, and sheets of aged parchment.

"How are you holding up?" the young woman questioned as she took a needle and thread from the pile, a note of concern in her voice.

"I feel a little dizzy," Lluvio admitted, blinking his eyes to fight off sleep. He then folded his hands across his stomach. "But I think I'm gonna live. Besides, by now I doubt a scrape like this is what's going to do me in." The grim humor wasn't lost on her, but she couldn't share in his nervous mirth and lightly smacked him in the arm with the back of her hand as a result.

"Try not to fall asleep." If he felt dizzy, it was likely from blood loss: If she allowed him to rest, she worried that he wouldn't awaken. Even now, the cloth tied around his waist to bind the wound was beginning to bleed through with a vivid scarlet. She shook her head as a means of wiping it from her mind. She had to focus on the main issue: Fix the Book and then get help.

Yet as she opened the Book, Fuega came to a horrible conclusion. Her fingers flipped through the contents cover to cover, over and over again, but the irrefutable fact of their continued poor luck remained. "Some of the pages are missing!" she cried with a vexed air, bringing her fist down upon the ground. "Those idiots damaged the Book and didn't even bother to gather the lost pages! Even if I can restore it back to its proper self, I can't restore lost information!"

"Shouldn't you know everything that should be in there?"

"But I don't know the people in this story! Or this story!" she thwacked the pages once in emphasis, but soon cringed and raised her hand in apology as the Book flustered within her grasp at such treatment. "I recognize two of the last names—Mondragon and Sanchez—but I only know a captain by Mondragon and all I know about the Sanchez family is that they had a long line of renowned bullfighters."

"Sanchez? But it can't really be…" With their plight explained, the children began to gather around, peering over Fuega's shoulder. Slowly, surprisingly, and much to the confusion of the two college students, expressions of distress morphed into faces of joy. "We know this story!" Sasha cheered.

"What?!" The exclamation was shared in near perfect unison by their elders, and Lluvio rose in shock before settling back down with a groan due to the agony the movement caused him.

"This is Manolo's story." Squatting to the earth, Sanjay moved the Book towards him and flipped through the pages until he found the remnants of the ones that had been torn—giving the paragraphs a light skim to collect his bearings of the tale. "'Manalo found himself surrounded in a chaotic whirlwind of dust as the bulls began to charge to one another, gathering together as their bones merged as one, colossal, giant…' This happened during the bullfight in the Land of the Remembered! Manolo was supposed to win, but that's what's missing! Without Manolo, Chakal was able to win the battle at San Angel and get the Medal of Everlasting Life. "

"But how are we supposed to get all of that back into the Book?" Luka questioned, stressing the issue with a flicking motion of his hand as he ran his fingers through his violet bangs with the other.

"Maybe you could just rewrite what's missing and put those pages in instead?" Lluvio offered with a raised brow.

Fuega sighed, "This is an ancient, supernatural relic that needs to be treated with the utmost care. The Book of Life has always practically recorded itself. I doubt you can just plop more pages in and get them to fit with that actually happened." Despite how irrefutable the fact first seemed to her, there was a moment of hesitance before she added with a hint of doubt, "Can you?"

Joao took a sheet of parchment from the stack and briefly wrote down what had happened during Manolo's trial with the deceased bull—how the creature held back from striking the finishing blow and listened to his song—giving it a bit of air to quickly dry the ink and then sliding it within the back of the Book. However, no sooner had the corner of the sheet touched the leather binding did the paper begin to radiate a golden hue and the sheet was tugged from his hold by an unseen force. It seemed to meld within the Book, the words correcting themselves to match the font of the entire piece to appear no different than any of page of the relic, and there it remained.

"Unbelievable…"

"But this is perfect!" Sanjay gathered the rest of the sheets within his hand and began to divide them between the others. "Fuega, you can finish fixing whatever else needs to be done to the Book. Joao can finish writing about the bullfight, Luka and I will cover the battle in San Angel, and Jane and Sasha can write about the wedding."

Relief etched upon Fuega's and Lluvio's faces at the turn of events, and they looked to one another with a shared smile. It could be done: They still had a chance.


The trio of deities waited in frustrated silence for some sign—anything at all—that their world would restore itself to the way it had been. However all that occurred before them, as far as the eye could see, was the billowing sandstorm they had caused in order to prevent Chakal's men from reaching the mortals. Standing above the city atop the dome of the museum, they looked out to the horizon. It was all they could do: Until daybreak, fate was left out of their hands.

"Where are they?!" Xibalba fumed, pacing the rooftop as though pushed forward by the weight of his anxiety. The green flames of the candles on his shoulders and crown flared violently in physical representation of his riled impatience. "Don't they understand that time is running out for them?!If they're not here within the next hour, I'll—!"

"I never imagined the day you'd root for the ones you've bet against, Xibalba," La Muerte smirked, her eyes narrowing with devilish mirth as she folded her arms across her chest. Turning her gaze back to the city, she continued, "They'll come, sooner or later. If what you've told me is true, then these things always have a way of fixing themselves."

"I might be a bit bias in this, but I have to agree with La Muerte there," the Candle Maker chimed in. "Chill, Xibalba: They've got this."

The Lord of Death shot the latter a quizzical look. La Muerte had always bore faith in mankind, but surely not even the Candle Maker could be ruled by such optimism given the circumstances. Mostly though, it was the way he spoke that caught him off guard—as though knowing something more than what he was letting on.

A sudden rupture surged throughout the area before Xibalba could give voice to his questions. Wings extended, he pulled La Muerte over to his side protectively as the tremors continued. The Candle Maker grabbed the bent flagpole with both hands for support as the only began to grow stronger.

Soon enough, rising over the dust clouds and smog blanketing the city, a sudden burst of warm light emerged and swelled—claiming everything within reach. It kept growing as an omnipresent force, piercing through the ceiling of clouds before turning into its own barrier of drowning illumination. Fearsome as it was, a single color gave reason to hope: The royal navy of a clear night sky gradually following after the glow.

The world began to writhe and contort before Xibalba's eyes, like a multitude of newly dipped paints raining down a flat canvas. He placed a hand to his head and blinked his eyes rapidly, the turmoil giving him a slight headache, only to find that he too was possessed by the light and only him out of the three immortals. On instinct, he pulled La Muerte tightly to his chest. He was not going to lose her again!

La Muerte gave a light snort just as he felt her delicate fingers trace the frame of his jaw. "We're not disappearing: You should know that by now."

Xibalba kept his eyes shut and squeezed her form against his, his chin resting upon her shoulder. He couldn't even bare to look at what was happening.

"Xibalba, I'll see you soon enough."


"Done."

The chaotic changes in the world served Lluvio, Fuega, and the children no different. The moment the last page placed within the bindings of the Book of Life, a golden aura fired from it and enveloped them like shield—cutting them off from the rest of existence. Huddled together, they shielded their heads from the chips of paint and wood that fell from the ceiling—though in truth they were safe within the radiant hue that encompassed them. The library shook with unstable, disastrous force and Sasha released a shriek of panic as a rotten board collapsed from above near where they were.

Fuega couldn't help but watch, and thus looked about despite the pain it gave as the world began to shift. Molded shelves and texts were cleansed and neatly arranged in the way she had always known them to be; furniture, broken and worn from disuse, was replaced by modern day decorum and technology; the ceiling was restored, and painted over with a familiar mural of the campus grounds.

Upon feeling a form shift beneath her, Fuega looked down to see Lluvio rising from his place on the floor. The bandages had begun to fade and the gaping cut began to rapidly heal itself as though nothing had occurred. The young man gripped his side, bringing his hand before his eyes to examine his fingertips and find them free of any blood.

A blinding darkness quickly overwhelmed their vision, and as soon as the light had appeared it had vanished. Slowly though, they eyes began to readjust to their surroundings.

Everything was restored.

The Book of Life, now back in its original condition, floated high in the air above them and spun about in a wide arc while the others began to rise back on their feet. Cheers and hollers resounded throughout the building in elation, and Fuega and Lluvio allowed the children the small moment of victory before motioning them to fall silent. No longer would they have to face the dangers of bandits, but they still had the campus police to worry about—and it would be difficult to explain why they had forced the way in in the middle of the night.

It was good fortune that the doors only stayed locked on the outside or else they would've been trapped. The faint gleam of the vanishing stars and the calm, clean breeze were like sacred treasures after an eternity of depravation from all the joys of life. With the Book able to support itself, Lluvio alone gently guided it with a beckoning hand into the outside world.

"You're not hurting still, are you?"

Looking back behind him, the children racing about in celebration, Lluvio grinned to Fuega, "It's strange now, but it really is like it never happened…. It's almost like waking up from a bad dream, huh?"

"Yeah…" Fuega rubbed her arm and looked to the ground. The Book levitated over to her and as it neared she ran her hands lovingly across its cover. Her arms then tenderly laced around it as she held it by each side—the relic dwarfing her in comparison enough to evoke a soft chuckle from her companion. "At least this was quite a… learning experience," she shrugged, biting her lower lip, "Much more than could be said about the museum, I guess…"

"Yeah…" He turned away, facing the direction of the city with his hands on his hips. It was really amazing, that after everything they had been through time now went on as it always had for them. No one would even know what really happened besides them, the children, and Xibalba… "We better get going. We probably have less than an hour by now."

"Actually… I have to get going…" Pushing the frames of her glasses up her nose, Fuega stepped closer to Lluvio in his confusion, an expression on her features that managed to send a bolt of fear down his spine. "You need to get these kids back home before their parents find out they've been gone all night. I'll deliver the Book."

He watched on with mute confusion as she dug through her pocket before retrieving a black, green, and silver object from inside—holding it out to him. Its strange heart shape just barely managed to fit within her palm, and though he had never seen it before he somehow automatically knew what it was.

"The Medal of Everlasting Life…" he whispered, brows contorted in bewilderment. He looked to her accusingly, but not with anger. If anything, his own heart began to speed up with unease. "That explains why Chakal sent his men after us so quickly, but what are you doing with it?! Why did you take it—how did you take it?!"

"I never did have much faith in the bet," she raised her shoulders in a lax manner before letting them fall dejectedly, "so I swiped it off that lug for a bit of insurance while I was getting the Book."

As Fuega took one step forward, Lluvio found himself taking another step back. This repeated until finally she caught him by the wrist and thrust the medallion into his hand—tightening his fingers around the cool metal with her own. Before he could voice anything in retort, she insisted with a note of rage, "Look at the sky, Lluvio! It's already starting to get brighter! There's not much time left before dawn and we don't have a ride… We won't make it."

His breath caught in his throat and he felt his hold on the medal begin to tremble. A minute of silence had passed before Fuega removed her touch, assuring he would keep hold of the thing, but it didn't matter. His fingers around it felt as though they had gone as stiff as lead. Fuega… Knowing her, she had likely taken it for her own safety, so… "Why are you doing this?" he demanded, pushing back the sudden mourning that carried in his voice. Why, when it was his bet that had put her to this…?

Once again her eyes cast downward and she bit her bottom lip. She had to be terrified—knowing more about the Land of the Forgotten than he from her studies. He tentatively reached out a hand in an effort to console her, but it was swatted away with all of the ice and scorn he had known her to bear.

"Don't pretend that this is just about you," she barked, taking a deep breath through her nose, clenching and unclenching her fist at her side. "You've got Sasha, right? And you're the only one she's really got. Take care of her."

Silence hung between them once more until it began to gather the attention of the children that surrounded them. She gave him on room to say anything further as she began to walk away, a smile on her face to help hide the reality from the others. His legs feeling weak, Lluvio felt his back press against the wall of the library—blinking his eyes to fight the sudden blur that impeded his vision, shaking his head with disbelief as a painful grip wrenched his heart.

Just as Fuega had anticipated the walk to the library had taken longer than either of them could've done, especially had the children tagged along. The sun had already broken above the line of skyscrapers by the time she had reached the steps to the museum. She dragged herself forward like an executioner awaiting trial, knowing that hurrying was beyond worth by then. One happy thought kept her from attempting to run from fate, and the Book was brought to her chest in an embrace that was meant to comfort her.

Xibalba was neither at the front entrance nor in the passage, but she didn't expect much else. After all, it would look out to bystanders for her body to suddenly collapse in the streets without warning as her soul was taken. She found him exactly where she expected him to be, waiting for her in the large chamber full of Mexican relics.

"You're late," he informed her with an unimpressed expression and a simple tone, so different from his previous fury that it in fact scared her more than their first meeting.

"I know," she returned, stepping forward from where she had ducked by the final corner of the hall. She steeled herself, forcing any emotion down into her gut as she approached him. Having died once, she had already steadied her resolve that she would not face death begging or in cowardice. Stopping a few paces in front of him, holding the Book of Life toward him—or rather urging it upward—she added, "I think this belongs to you."

The Book was taken from her hold without a breath of thanks as Xibalba began examining it, propping it open with one hand as he grasp his cane with the other. She waited quietly, fiddling her hands behind her back, as he looked it over. He then gave but a nod once he was finished and noisily snapped the Book shut, causing her to flinch. "And where is the boy?"

After what she had done she wouldn't tell him the truth, and she imagined telling a lie or acting cheeky would get her into even more trouble than she now faced. So she chose to say nothing, merely keeping an impassive expression as she looked him in the eyes.

Nevertheless he gave her a smile that seemed more cruel than kind. "I see then… No one ever really does like to pay up by the end of the bet, do they? But he'll turn up, sooner or later."

Try never, she thought, balling her fists, but gave no voice to such revelations.

"Well, with this matter resolved I think we should get going then."

It was probably for the best that she was given no time to prepare for what happened next—Xibalba flicking his cane to turn it into a snake and the creature sinking both pairs of its fangs into her flesh before she could react.