Page 155 of Espíritu

Then he stepped forward and did exactly that—reached out, slowly, carefully, and wrapped his arms around the ghost of a man who had once been his whole world.

His hands passed through empty air, but he held the shape of him anyway.

Catriz closed his eyes. His spirit flickered—not from instability, but from the force of emotion, like a match just before it flares.

Yadriel stayed there for one long, aching moment.

“I wish you’d stayed the version of you who made me feel seen,” he murmured. “But I’m glad I got that part of you back tonight. Even just for a little while.”

And finally, he let go.

Lita stepped forward. She seemed larger than life in the golden glow, her eyes sharp with both love and authority.

“Catriz,” she said, holding up the jade jaguar charm, dangling from its golden chain. She held it gingerly, as if it might break, but the energy radiating from it was steady and strong. “You’ve earned your place back with Lady Death,” she said, her voice unwavering, eyes glistening. “It’s time for you to rest, mijo.”

Catriz’s spectral form shimmered, his expression unreadable for a moment before softening into something that resembled peace. “Gracias, Mamá,” he said quietly. “For not giving up on me.”

Lita stepped closer, placing the necklace in Enrique’s hands. “Do it,” she said firmly.

Enrique nodded, his eyes brimming with unspoken emotion as he gripped the tether. As he whispered a low incantation, the necklace began to glow in his hands. The thread attaching it to Catriz illuminated.

Enrique smiled solemnly. “Rest, hermano.” With a small tip of his knife, he severed the tie.

Catriz’s form began to dissolve, his spirit lifting as the golden thread disintegrated in Enrique’s hands. A cascade of marigolds burst into the air, filling the crypt with their vibrant, fragrant presence.

“Thank you.” Catriz’s voice echoed faintly as he disappeared, leaving behind only silence.

The petals drifted gently to the stone floor, glowing softly before they faded.

Yadriel stood frozen, staring at the spot where his uncle had been. Where a monster had once stood. Where a man had just found his peace.

A warm palm brushed the back of Yadriel’s hand—Julian, breath still shaky, eyes shining. Yadriel squeezed once, a promise he didn’t have words for yet.

Something in his chest unknotted—tight and aching and old. It let go, quiet as breath, and left something lighter in its place.

Lita turned to him and pressed his uncle’s necklace into his palm.

“Lita?” Yadriel asked, his voice soft with confusion.

“He wore it since he was a boy,” Lita said, gaze steady. “Keep it safe.”

Yadriel took it. The jade jaguar was warm and pulsed faintly, like the flutter heartbeat of a bird.

Lita stepped beside him, her voice low. “He saw you,” she said. “Even when the rest of us didn’t.” She placed a hand on Yadriel’s shoulder, steady as ever. “That’s something to honor and hold on to.”

Yadriel didn’t speak. But he nodded—once—and let the quiet settle around him like a blessing.

Then Enrique cleared his throat.

“We should get home,” he said. “Everyone needs rest. And…” His voice drifted slightly. “We’ve got a lot to prepare for tonight, especially you, Yadriel.”

Yadriel looked up, puzzled. “Me?”

It was Christmas Eve morning now, and the Danza de la Luz Eterna would be that night. He typically didn’t have much to do other than the usual pack-mule responsibilities of helping Lita set up.

Yadriel blinked. “We’re still doing it, right?”

“Of course we are,” Lita said, brushing off her skirt. “The world still turns. Lady Death still waits. These rituals matter more than ever now.”