Page 15 of Of Shadow and Moon

Now, it serves as a place of learning, where everyone in the realm trains to harness their abilities and protect the realm, even humans. It is said that the very stones of Obsidian Academy are imbued with the residual energies of the gods, making it a place of immense power.

As I approach the barrier, I feel a slight resistance before it parts to allow me through. It only permits entry to students and their Alebrijes, ensuring that only those with a purpose within its walls can enter. The air inside the barrier feels charged, as if the academy itself is aware of my presence.

The courtyard beyond the gates is vast with paved stones leading to the various structures the academy houses. Towers rise on all sides, connected by bridges and walkways that crisscross the open space like a web.

I cross the courtyard, the weight of everything that has happened over the last few days pressing down on me with every step. There is a big building that looms ahead, a monolithic structure of dark stone and stained glass windows that glimmer with otherworldly light. The doors, carved from ebony wood and inlaid with silver runes, stand open, inviting yet foreboding.

Before I walk forward and try and figure out where I’m supposed to go, a figure materializes out of nothing. A young woman stands before me, her presence commanding and her eyes piercing. She looks no older than me, but the intensity radiating off of her makes me realize she has to be someone of importance. She is tall and regal, with an aura of power that radiates from her like a tangible force.

“Bienvenida, Selestina. I'm Headmistress Mirella, and this is Obsidian Academy,” she says, her voice echoing through the courtyard. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Her words hang in the air. She looks me up and down, noting my ragged appearance. I know no matter what I did, I would still look like I have been rung through the trenches.

She dismisses it, and gestures for me to follow, her stride purposeful as she leads me through the iron gates and into the Academy’s heart. I grit my teeth against the lingering pain and force my legs to keep up with her unyielding pace.

Inside the gates, the courtyard sprawls before us, filled with a blur of movement and life. Students roam in small groups, dressed in leather tunics, worn cloaks, and practicalattire suited for a world where magic and combat are as common as the dirt beneath their boots. Some have belts weighed down with what I assume are pouches and vials, while others carry small, battered spell books. A few wear amulets or charms, the objects themselves carrying protective enchantments, most likely. I take in every face, creature, and interaction, cataloging themfor future use. Students move with a casual confidence, each face focused and intent, immersed in the strange yet familiar atmosphere of the Academy.

But it’s not just the students that make this place feel alive. Alebrijes wander freely, creatures of every shape and hue, their forms shimmering with the strange energy of beings not entirely bound to this world. Which is the beauty of them. Some lounge near the edges of the fountain at the center of the courtyard, watching as water sprites twist and spiral through the streams, their translucent bodies glowing in shades of blue and green and trying to splash any being who ventures too close to the water.

The Alebrijes forms are as diverse as the people of Tonalli—each Alebrije is unique, a vibrant patchwork of animalistic traits brought to life with an otherworldly brilliance. Feathers, scales, fur, and horns blend seamlessly into kaleidoscopic patterns that pulse with magic. Eyes that shimmer like molten gold or glimmer like the deep ocean, and seem to hold the wisdom of countless lifetimes.

Alebrijes are protectors born of fate. Born of the gods’ magic, they are crafted to shield their bonded Tonaloca from harm, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual. Their forms may vary, but their purpose is singular: ensure the survival and growth of their Tonaloca. Some are massive and imposing, with powerful limbs and razor-sharp claws, designed to stand as an unyielding wall between dangerand their charge. Others are smaller and nimbler, blending into the background and striking with the precision of a blade when threats arise.

Their protective instincts go beyond the physical realm. Alebrijes are deeply attuned to their Tonaloca’s emotions and inner struggles, acting as anchors during moments of despair or doubt. They provide strength when their bond mate falters and serve as reminders of their shared resilience. In battle, an Alebrije and their Tonaloca move as one, their connection so profound that words are unnecessary, a mere glance or shift of energy is enough to coordinate their actions with lethal precision.

Alebrijes are a familiar sight in Tonalli, their vibrant forms as much a part of the landscape as the kingdoms themselves. Yet the bond they represent is anything but common. For a Tonaloca, finding their soul bond—a connection so profound it ties their essence to another being—is a rarity, often taking centuries to unfold. The journey to discovering one's Alebrije is never straightforward, winding through the twists and turns of fate, as though the universe demands patience and persistence before granting such a sacred gift.

For humans, however, the story is different. They do not meet their Alebrije in the land of the living. Their bond is given only after death, in the afterlife, where their soul’s true form is revealed and intertwined with their Alebrije’s. It is a connection that speaks to humanity’s transience, a promise that even in death, there is companionship and purpose.

But for the Tonalocas, the bond blooms in life, a vibrant thread woven into their very existence. The meeting is a gradual pull, a subtle dance of destinies aligning. The Alebrije and their destined partner often spend lifetimessearching, guided by instincts and dreams, whispers of each other echoing across time and distance. When they finally find one another, it is as though the universe itself exhales; the connection snapping into place like a missing piece of a puzzle. This union isn’t just a partnership; it’s a merging of energies, a bond as unshakable as the earth beneath their feet, powerful enough to shape the course of their lives, and sometimes, the fate of Tonalli itself. That’s what they said fated mates were, too. The same sense of familiarity, but the bond was anything but platonic with a fated mate.

In the shade of an old oak tree, a cluster of fire sprites dance, their tiny flames casting warm hues of orange and gold. They twirl around each other in a mesmerizing rhythm, leaving trails of smoke that curl briefly before vanishing into the night air. The students around them don’t even glance their way, but the sprites seem content, as they sway in the breeze.

The sprites’ laughter is light and melodic, like rain on leaves, but they pay no mind to the students or Alebrijes nearby, too caught up in their own games. The sound snaps me back to reality.

I have been doing that a lot. I need to stop letting my thoughts drift and focus.

Headmistress Mirella leads me down a cobblestone path that forks into several directions, her steps unhurried. She doesn’t look back, her words clipped and efficient, as if she has far more pressing matters than giving me a tour, which she probably does.

“The structure on your left is El Salón de Ancestros,” she says, gesturing toward a grand building draped in ivy and carved with statues of heroes and beings lost to time. Each figure watches with solemn eyes, frozenin stone but somehow alive in their presence. “It houses our library, where we keep records of every notable creature, spell, and event in Tonalli’s history. The biggest library in all of Tonalli.” She sounds rightfully proud.

My hands twitch wanting to go there first.

El Salón de Ancestros looms ahead with tall, narrow windows of stained glass that glisten with deep blues, greens, and reds. Each panel tells a story: gods clashing over mountains, magical beings emerging from seas, warriors bowing before celestial beasts. A tale of our realm’s history. The students pass by, absorbed in their own conversations or thoughts, oblivious to the history that surrounds them.

As we move deeper into the courtyard, I catch sight of a spiraling tower piercing the night sky, its top shrouded in a mist that clings to the stone like a veil. Headmistress Mirella gestures toward it with a quick nod. “The Tower of Vigilance. It serves as the Academy’s watchtower and is one of the few places where students train in combat and defense, specifically to protect the realm.” Her tone is brisk, her gaze already shifting forward.

Headmistress Mirella leads me to a grand set of double doors carved from dark wood and inlaid with silver symbols that glint in the torchlight. She pushes them open, and we step into a vast, echoing chamber,Salón de Quetzalcoatl, named after the god of wisdom and wind, a place that radiates magic.

The ceiling stretches impossibly high, painted with swirling feathers, serpents, and gods. Massive pillars line the walls, each one carved with symbols that I recognize from the tales of Tonalli’s creation.

We keep walking past throngs of students interacting. I note that mostly everyone sticks to their own. Though, Ioccasionally see a witch talking to a vampire, or a mage in the center of naguals, laughing at whatever their conversation is about.

And then I see them.

Rhyker, Tomas, Kaelion, and Matheus—los cuatro príncipes de Tonalli. They’re all here, scattered around the hall, each standing at opposite ends as if the space itself isn’t big enough to contain their rivalries. I freeze, unable to tear my gaze away. I’ve only ever seen them from a distance, hidden behind masks at the masquerades, or from afar during official visits when they were whisked away before I could catch a glimpse. They’ve always been locked away, kept from the public eye, sheltered by guards to secure their bloodlines, their inheritance to the throne. But here, they’re completely unguarded and alone—no barrier, no mask, and so close.

Rhyker stands closest to the door, his green eyes like molten jade, framed by wild, shaggy brown hair that falls around his face with an effortless wildness. He’s tall, his frame lean and muscled, his skin kissed by the sun. Tattoos, vibrant and green, cover his neck and arms, twisting up his jawline and down his hands. He wears a casual smirk, though there’s an intensity in his gaze that gives me pause, as if he’s sizing up everyone and everything. There’s something feral about him, a rawness that makes it impossible to look away.

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