I found it hidden in the deepest part of the cemetery.
A tomb without a stone.
No inscription.
No mark.
Just earth, untouched.
I knelt and pressed my hands against the soil.
Slowly, letters began to form—carved by unseen hands into the dirt.
Here lies Citlali, the first and the last.
The earth trembled beneath me.
The rift began to open once again.
Voices rose from the nameless dead.
You made us.
Now, let us in.
And in that moment, I remembered.
I was not born here.
I crossed from the other side.
The rift was not a curse.
It was a return.
The name behind my name.
The shadow behind my shadow.