My feet found themselves, and the hills flew by as I left the village. I pushed myself to a sprint, and my body did not protest. Would this stamina persist when I left the underworld? When my matzin high wore out? Or were the gods' soul-water and the magic seeped into this place the only things sustaining me? I pushed the thought away. I could deal with my problems one at a time, and first I had to get to the tree. I didn't know how the villagers could tell when sunset and moonrise were, but I trusted them. The Mexica had certainly loved their calendars.

Tochtli had to trip me to tell me when to slow. There were still bushes scattered among the hills, but the landscape's waves had shrunk again, and the bushes looked more weatherbeaten than ever. I squinted into the near-darkness up ahead. I couldn't see the hills past a few dozen meters, but it wasn't like the gloom hid them. More like there weren't there.

A cliff? Had we reached the edge of this world? Did it have an end? Before the questions took root, we jogged from the last of the hills.

At our feet, the land plunged into a great basin to cradle what could only be a corner of Mictlan. In that corner grew a tree. No, "tree" didn't describe this. No tree should have a trunk as broad across as Grillo Negro and Tepepia combined, then combined again. My eyes followed the colossal trunk upwards. Unfathomably far overhead, the sky took on a less-than-black quality that struck me as the roof of Mictlan. The tree carried on through this into whatever black space lay past the sky. I couldn't even see branches.

Tochtli whined. I glanced down to find her gazing up at me, her body tilted towards the slope at our feet. We had a deadline. My eyes found the tree's base, and I realized what the whine was about. Centzon Huītznāuhtin paced there like ants next to Cōātlīcue. They would spot me as soon as I stepped over the valley's rim.

This hit my plan like a debris-induced snarl in a backstrap loom. Centzon Huītznāuhtin already? I had to get past them to reach the tree. I had the advantageous position to attack from, but an attack of one on many would let at least one escape, blowing my cover and alerting Coyol to both my presence and my goal. At very least, it would bring more Centzon Huītznāuhtin swarming down on me than I could handle alone.

What did I have by way of weapons? My sling was long-range, and there were enough rocks in the ground to provide me with sling shot. I was not fast enough to take out so many enemies in such quick succession, though. I wished I had a bow. That, though, brought up memories of Xochi. I pulled my spare hat from my bag and forcefully distracted myself with gathering stones. Having ammunition made me feel safer and more prepared for anything I attempted. I tied the hat-strings to my belt to make a serviceable pouch, and returned to the edge of the valley. My lack of a plan settled back over me.

The only other weapon I had with any range at all was my fire. I lit my seeking-flame. "Centzon Huītznāuhtin?"

The light split and tipped towards each of the star-warriors with unflinching precision. Could I get Fuego on a slingstone somehow, and cast it into their midst? I tried, but stone was no more flammable than water. I considered wrapping it in tinder, but there was no grass long enough to wrap, and twigs would catch in the woven sling.

Could I send Fuego down across the grass? That would solve the tinder problem, but memories of nearly burning my jacket immediately resurfaced. The fire I had sent off then had left burn marks over the grass, as clear as if Miguel, Rosa, and Graciela had drawn them in charcoal.

What if I sent it under the grass? Would it still burn?

I backed well away from the valley's edge and pressed both hands to the ground, feeling like Chal or Tezcat setting a ward. My fire magic bundled itself obediently to my hands when I called on it. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself through the haze of anxiety brought on by time's leaky bucket draining away over my head. If I was back in Grillo Negro, I could do this to bake things in fire-coal pits, or set pit traps without leaving piles of dirt around. The mere thought of my village steadied me. I was here for them, in the end. They were the reason I needed the gods' help, needed Coyol defeated, needed her to not end the world.

The warm pool in my chest deeped just like before. I took a deep breath and held it in until my whole body tingled. I could let loose like I had with the fire pits, but this time, I needed control. Burn the Centzon Huītznāuhtin. The fire's swirl inside me focused into a clear tug. When I exhaled, my power traveled out through my hands and into the ground. It stayed alive. There were grass roots underground, and even the non-gritty parts of the soil were enough fuel for a grounded fire. I continued to manage my breath to keep myself steady, feeding the magic and stifling its love of flames. Like a snake under sand, the burning crept down the hill beneath the soil. Where it wilted the grass, I sent it deeper.

The Centzon Huītznāuhtin still had not noticed me yet. I startled as the ground gave out beneath my hands. Residual smouldering had burned out a small tunnel at the top of the thread I was sending down the valley. I moved my hands to the tunnel's sides and willed it not to cave in anywhere else before Fuego reached the target I had assigned to it. It was speeding up now. Like a real snake locked on a target, it devoured the distance, halfway there, then three-quarters. The thread split. Its filaments honed in on the Centzon Huītznāuhtin like wasps to fruit sugar, excited by the thing I told them to burn.

I held my breath. If this didn't work, I had to go straight to my sling.

The first of Coyol's followers erupted into flame with a horrid, guttural yell. I had never heard them make a sound as they died. The rest shouted and ran, but it was too late: Fuego caught up with them, and they too went up like living torches. I was glad they were too far for me to see what I had done. I kept the fires burning until only blackened spots in the grass remained. Then I ran down the hill.

The tree only got bigger the closer I got. I kept my eyes on the black spots to tell myself I was approaching at all, until I realized I had not burned the bones of one. I wrenched my gaze away. The near-black sky seemed to lighten as a deeper blackness seeped through it up ahead. Around the tree, the sky itself parted. I slowed among building-sized tree roots, finally able to see up its trunk. Up and up, until it was lost from view far, far above the Mictlan sky.

The tree's trunk was impossibly smooth, and I knew at a glance that I would not be able to climb it. Not that I could climb that distance, anyway. I felt in my pocket for one of my charms. If that gap in the sky was any indication, I could pass between the layers of the world here just as I had when I first came down to Mictlan.

I crouched with one hand on each dog's back, the charm clasped in my fist. Did I want to bring the dogs? Something told me they would be safer down here than where I was going. I hugged them both, then stood.

"Stay," I said in Nahuatl. Then, for Grifo, "Quieto."

He drooped visibly at the Spanish command. I meant it. I dropped to my knees for one last hug. "I'm sorry. I'll come back for you."

What was I even doing? I had a plan but no idea how to execute it, and the moment I used the charm, I would be on my own. I only had one more charm after that. What if I had to use it elsewhere? Would I ever get my dogs back?

I was barging into the home of the most powerful goddess, not even knowing what I would find. I had to free the gods. I had brought matzin, and if that could counter Mictēcacihuātl's curse, I would have backup so long as I could get it to them. Then we had to fight. If we couldn't beat Coyol, there was no point protecting anything in the world below. If Coyol won, this was over.

I pushed that thought aside. It wouldn't stay anymore, so I constructed a mental box and sealed it inside. To that container I added the memory that I was the second-strongest on this side of the war even before the gods got cursed, and the thick, nauseating possibility that that curse's effects may not wear off so quickly. Last, I threw in the fear of Coyol finding me. Then I slammed the box and locked it.

If Coyol won, at least I would still have one last charm. I could teleport Jem, Emma and I somewhere safe. Maybe back to Mictlan, to the souls' village. I would have to come back anyway if I was now half-dead.

Tochtli licked my elbow.

"I know. I'm going now," I said, standing. One hand clenched the charm so hard it hurt. The other gripped my new stick.

"The sky-world," I said, and the world flashed white.