Chihuahuan Desert, Mexico - Exiting the Zone of Silence -
With the weight of Don Elías's revelations and the strange resonance of the Zone of Silence still vibrating in their souls, Seraphina and Rafael bid farewell to the old shaman and his young companion. The desert sun beat down fiercely, a sharp contrast to the timelessness of the canyon from which they had just emerged.
"May your hearts find the truth you seek," Don Elías told them by way of farewell, his black eyes holding a wisdom that seemed as vast as the desert itself, "and may your spirits have the strength to bear it when you find it. The path to the City of Palaces (Mexico City) will be fraught with echoes and shadows. Trust not in appearances."
They thanked the shaman with a deep bow, a respect born from the strange and powerful experience they had lived. The journey back through the altered landscape, and then through the more mundane desert to where they had managed to hide a sturdy all-terrain vehicle, was silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Fatigue, both physical and psychic, was a heavy burden upon them.
"Mexico City..." Rafael murmured as he started the vehicle's engine, the sound a profane roar in the desert stillness. "A monster of asphalt and millions of souls. To find the traces of a scientist who disappeared decades ago, while we ourselves are hunted... it will be like searching for a needle in a cosmic haystack." The long car journey they would now have to undertake stretched before them as yet another test of their endurance.
Seraphina nodded, her eyes fixed on the heat-shimmering horizon. "I know. And we will arrive exhausted. But before we face that labyrinth, there is a place... a quick stop in Querétaro we must make."
Rafael looked at her, inquisitive.
"Do you remember the annals of the Brotherhood?" Seraphina continued. "They speak of an ancient place of shamanic power on the outskirts of the city of Querétaro, near the first foothills of the Sierra Gorda. A place the Nahual Guardians of the Toltec line used to imbue artifacts with the energy of the earth and the spirit of the wind. It is said that runes of protection and other things that could be useful for what lies ahead are preserved there, for any unforeseen event on the road to new answers."
"A detour," Rafael considered, "but one that might give us an advantage. Agreed. To Querétaro first. We will need all the help, visible and invisible, that we can find."
The journey was brutal. Endless hours on dusty roads and busy highways, always vigilant, always aware that any mistake could alert their pursuers. Fatigue accumulated, but the urgency of their mission and the new lead on Jacobo Grinberg propelled them forward.
As the afternoon of the following day waned, they reached the outskirts of Querétaro. Following the ancient descriptions from the Brotherhood's texts, they turned onto a barely-used dirt road that snaked towards low hills covered in prickly pear cacti and mesquite trees. The air here already felt different, cleaner, vibrating with a subtle energy.
The magical place was not an imposing ruin or an ostentatious temple. It was a small, hidden canyon, almost invisible from the road, at the bottom of which grew a grove of ancestral ahuehuete trees around a spring that gushed from living rock. The site was imbued with a deep peace and an elemental power that resonated with their own magic.
After performing a brief ritual of respect and permission that the Brotherhood shared with the ancient lineages of the land, Seraphina and Rafael ventured into a shallow cave hidden behind the spring's waterfall. Inside, upon a natural stone altar, they found what they sought.
They were not treasures of gold, but objects of a more subtle and profound power. A set of small runes carved from polished obsidian and milky jade, each with a glyph representing forces of nature or spiritual concepts: the Feathered Serpent for clarity of vision and wisdom, the Heart of the Mountain for endurance and grounding, the Night Wind for stealth and the deception of the senses. There were also small leather pouches filled with dried herbs and aromatic resins from the Sierra Gorda, known for their purifying and spirit-strengthening properties. A pair of perfectly smooth river stones, which vibrated with a calming and protective energy when held.
"Tools of our ancestors on the path of knowledge," Rafael whispered, picking up a Jaguar rune that promised strength and the ability to walk among shadows.
Seraphina chose a small, polished obsidian mirror, no larger than the palm of her hand, which legends said could deflect ill will and, if used with the right intention, show brief glimpses of hidden truth.
With these small but potent artifacts carefully stored, and feeling somewhat spiritually strengthened, though their bodies cried out for rest, Seraphina and Rafael prepared for the next and most dangerous stage of their journey. Mexico City, with its millions of souls and its countless secrets, awaited them. And with it, the hope of finding answers about Jacobo Grinberg, about Eleonora, and perhaps, about the path to save their daughter Aria.