Important
This light novel is inspired by the beautiful landscapes and culture of Bolivia. However, the characters, events, and situations portrayed are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is purely coincidental. This content does not intend to represent or reflect the historical, social, or cultural reality of the country. The author disclaims any legal liability arising from the interpretation of these elements.
Chapter 0
The forest called her.
Not with words.
Not with shouts.
It called her with roots, with silence.
A deep voice that didn't come from the wind, but from the depths of her own being.
Zayra woke up trembling. It had already been five years since she had gone to study in Washington, D.C.
She had left behind her homeland—Bolivia.
A country not always understood, nor valued. The beating heart of South America, full of life, culture, and silent struggles.
A place many know only for its problems, yet one that holds ancestral stories, deep roots, and an unbreakable spirit.
It was her home, even if distance had kept her away… or so she thought.
The room was cloaked in shadows, lit only by the dirty glow of Georgetown—one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in the United States, in Washington, D.C.
The university slept. But she did not.
She had dreamed again of the Toborochi.
The sacred tree of her childhood.
The very same that grew in the center of the Indigenous community of Besoró, located in the Chiquitana region of eastern Bolivia.
The same community to which her mother, Siraya Yaritú Cuellar, belonged. Known as the official priestess of the Besoró Indigenous Community, she was a spiritual guide to the community's chiefs. A priestess with the ability to speak to the god Ñande-yara—known to them as "the creator of all."
Dreaming of the Almighty surprised Zayra, for she had never thought herself capable of such a gift—to hear the Creator. She had always believed she lacked that ability because her father did not share her mother's ancestral roots.
Her father, Choi Dae-Hyun, was an unusual mix: A Korean father and a Brazilian mother. He had lived his entire life in Seoul, but because of his Brazilian roots, he returned to Latin America—and out of great love for his mother, chose to stay in Bolivia.
There, he achieved great success, becoming one of the wealthiest men in the region. His fortune, common in that land, was built on mining, agriculture, and sharp business deals.
Though Zayra cherished her heritage, she thought perhaps this explained why she could not feel or connect with the god as her mother did.
However, this time, the Toborochi in her dream was unlike any she had ever seen in her community. A golden glow surrounded it, making it look almost mystical, unreal.
It spoke without speaking:
— "My child… when will you return?"
Zayra did not answer.
She had no words. Only an emptiness in her chest.
For this was the first time Ñande-yara had manifested to her.
Her soul already knew what it meant. And yet, she had the feeling that great changes were coming. She just wasn't sure if they would be for better… or for worse.
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest.
Without knowing why, she felt the urge to check her phone.
The glowing screen pulled her back into reality:
"My dear, everything is ready for your arrival. Tomorrow you will meet your fiancé and his family—they're coming from South Korea. Your mother is nervous. I'm excited. Catherine will pick you up at dawn.
We love you.
—Dad."
Zayra sighed, lowered the phone, her fingers cold. She felt her back tense, anxiety beginning to flood her body.
"Fiancé."
The word hurt—it was foreign in her mouth, a disguise for a life she had not chosen. But one she had accepted.
It didn't feel like part of her life, but rather a borrowed one.
She didn't know his name.
Nor did she want to.
She accepted it not out of custom, nor out of love, but because of a chapter in her life that no one spoke of anymore, yet had marked her forever. A chapter that drove her to redeem herself in her family's eyes—even if it meant agreeing to an arranged marriage, at least for a time.
She had gone to Washington, studied law, lived like a modern woman.
But neither books, nor laws, nor perfectly tailored suits could erase her roots.
Now she understood her fight wasn't only legal.
It was spiritual.
It was ancestral.
Because now she realized she could speak not only to the modern world, but also to the ancient one.
And that bridge—painful, powerful—was hers.
Hers alone.
Bolivia, a country as beautiful as it was complex, was falling apart.
Indigenous communities were silenced with empty promises.
And the face behind that lie had a name: Ivor Amaro.
Populist politician. Former president. Drug trafficker dressed as a savior.
A man who spoke of justice while burying lives in the name of power.
Zayra knew him.
She knew what he had done.
She knew how he had done it.
She knew her best friend had not died by accident.
But she also knew that knowing wasn't enough.
She needed proof.
And to get it, she would have to return.
Not as a victim.
But as a lawyer. As a daughter. And as the future priestess of her Indigenous community—a role she had never thought she would have to take on, but that dream had confirmed it.
She rose in silence.
Opened the drawer and took out the crystal heart-shaped locket, with a small Bolivianita (a semi-precious stone found only in Bolivia) embedded in it, a gift from her mother long ago.
Inside, a dried Toborochi flower.
The only one she had kept since childhood.
One that had never withered, still holding that deep pink color.
She held it between her fingers like a promise.
She was going back.
Not for a husband.
Not for obedience.
But because she could not fail—and because she knew her fight was only beginning.
Because her people needed her.
Because her god had awakened her.
And because a woman with her knowledge had no right to remain silent.
She was going back to speak.
To redeem herself and to fight.
To start the war, she had once avoided.
And this time, she would not lose.
To uncover the truth behind Zayra's fate, her duty, and the man who waits for her in the shadows… keep reading.
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