Marisol had helped Jaime and Sol heal at Chantico for an entire day. Her mist, along with Chalchiuhtlicue's divine guidance, moved smoothly through their bodies, repairing everything in its path. The energies even mended their damaged spirits, helping them recover quickly within the gems.

  Marisol had done her best to focus entirely on the two lesser gods, forgoing meals and breaks to finish sooner. Whatever was out there had already shown its capabilities, and she didn't want to delay what might be their only defense.

  Along the way she had already planted seeds. Though sparse, she hoped they would help. Her green road had seen great growth after her ascension. Her sanctuaries and trees fueled her passively, sometimes making her feel as if she were more a part of nature than a separate, independent person.

  But she hadn't shied away from the welcoming sensation.

  Marisol had felt accepted by everything she shared her divinity with. The soil and water in particular—things she once believed had no way of showing appreciation—had begun appearing before her as tiny spirits hiding just within sight.

  Only when given bodies like the clay dolls were they able to roam within reality. She had learned much by watching the children play with clay and splash in the pools, observing the unseen spirits playing with them.

  The swirling energies they called faith saturated everything. It was a wondrous and magical thing Marisol had spent many nights gazing at in adoration.

  An ocean that accompanied them at all times.

  It was the carrier of all spiritual essence, the home of everything immaterial, and perhaps the very core of reality itself. As far as Marisol could tell, it was where they had all come from.

  The longing she felt to dive back into that ocean was often accompanied by visions of a long-sunken paradise—a beautiful place where she had once felt the most free.

  Yet within that vigorous ocean, she could also feel something horrifying.

  The miasma had retreated when she arrived to help Jaime and Sol, but the memory of it lingered. Shadows had flitted about within the fetid cloud, creatures hidden behind a cloak of corruption. As Marisol walked away with the injured gods, she could still feel them watching.

  Curious. Hungry.

  The sensation they gave her felt disturbingly similar to what she sensed in the deepest parts of the ocean of faith.

  Chalchiuhtlicue had whispered that a corrupt god was likely nearby, and with the power it had already displayed, Marisol and the others would have difficulty defeating it.

  Still, Chalchiuhtlicue had also mentioned that as their patron gods the three would ensure the villages remained minimally safe—Chantico included. Even if Huehueteotl could manage on his own.

  Corruption was best dealt with quickly and without mercy.

  In the meantime, however, the creature seemed content to prod at them, searching for somewhere it could burrow its filthy appendages. Marisol had little doubt it would continue its harassment. This was already the second time Sol had been injured.

  Perhaps it held some particular dislike for the man.

  The thought lingered as Marisol sat beside the two sleeping figures. She had been gazing at their faces for some time now, her weary mind drifting through countless thoughts.

  The blind elder had come by every so often to check on them. He moved through the area with the confidence of someone who could see perfectly well, but Marisol found no reason to pry. It was easy enough to assume Sol had healed his eyes somehow.

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  Still, it was a wonder Marisol hadn't seen the elder during her previous visits to Chantico.

  -

  A week later, Marisol busied herself with the last of the tree sanctuaries she had seeded. She could feel her divinity overflowing from the many new threads woven into her consciousness.

  They called to her with their simple desires.

  They yearned for her attention—her divine caress and affection. Like children of her own.

  Marisol blushed at the thought before skipping along the forest floor, hopping with toads and giggling alongside silly crows.

  She enjoyed the company of nature as her paradise grew around her.

  Her huipil shifted and lengthened as she walked, its fabric gaining vibrant colors as Axochi and Chalchiuhtlicue threaded mystical scenes into its patterns. Her legs remained bare as she ran and splashed through small ponds.

  All around her she could see the phantasmal forms of spirits joining her sacred communion with life. They allowed the vitality of all things to flow through her, making her their nexus—the breath through which nature itself exhaled.

  Spirits rushed toward her, answering her call.

  Their strange forms shifted constantly, becoming anything Marisol imagined. One moment they resembled fruit, the next fish, their shapes changing in the blink of an eye.

  They remained amorphous until she focused on the image that felt most comfortable to her.

  Small children.

  The familiar mischievous faces of the village kids that filled the air with laughter every day.

  The spirits changed accordingly, becoming small, chubby figures resembling babies.

  Marisol startled for a moment and lost her focus. The spirits immediately loosened their forms, dissolving back into drifting clouds of concept.

  She felt oddly about the image of them as babies.

  Still, she didn't dislike the thought of them as children. Perhaps not her own, but she could nurture them as if they were.

  Raise them into something more.

  Like Bruno.

  The instinct stirred within her felt strange, yet not alien.

  Marisol gently grabbed one of the more solid spirits and cradled it while her thoughts drifted. Her countless worries and quiet wonderings soon carried her attention toward Bruno.

  The lumbering giant had been watching her from his seat—a boulder he had unearthed simply to spectate Marisol's dance through the forest.

  Around her, an army of much smaller clay dolls ran amok. She had discovered they were easier to control as long as she allowed them to behave as they pleased.

  Spirits, although pliable, could become rigid and stubborn when forced to do something they disliked.

  She had to learn gradually, matching Bruno's steady patience.

  Coaxing. Bribing. Punishing the occasional naughty spirit.

  Slowly, Marisol began to understand how to guide them. Much like faith, once their nature matched in flavor, ideology, or concept, they would accept tasks happily.

  It was how she had convinced the little clay dolls to help her reshape the forest.

  They assisted her in relocating plants and animals from the places where she wished to grow new trees. Flowers and small herbs were the easiest to move.

  Animals, however, were another matter entirely.

  Luckily, the dolls had been introduced to organized warfare by the village children.

  So none could avoid eviction once Marisol's tiny armies mobilized.

  She chuckled at the melodramatic grey foxes lured away from their dens by the kidnapping of their cubs. The dolls did an admirable job running quickly enough to avoid the furious vixens while carefully carrying the little kits.

  Marisol couldn't help but admire their speed—and their surprising gentleness.

  She smiled at shrieking squirrels and startled birds as they fled the commotion.

  Deer watched the chaos from a distance but remained nearby, patiently waiting for Marisol to finish shaping her paradise. The local fauna had already begun to recognize the nature goddess, even if she was occasionally mischievous in her methods.

  They weren't about to abandon a land where delicacies grew right before their eyes.

  Trees produced fruit so plump their branches bowed beneath the weight. Vines coiled around trunks with sweet-scented blossoms, while bushes thickened and burst with plentiful berries.

  Once everything had grown enough, the dolls released their hostages.

  The animals rushed back to their dens—many now half-collapsed from the forest's reshaping—sniffing their pups carefully to ensure no harm had been done.

  Marisol accepted every angry glare she received.

  She eventually sat down among a small group of bunnies that had frozen in either horror or adoration. She wasn't quite sure which—and she didn't particularly care.

  Their soft bodies eased her lingering worries.

  Her mist drifted outward, calming any creatures bold enough to charge her. They stopped a few feet away, waiting for her gentle palms to soothe their tempers.

  "You have a lovely home."

  The voice came suddenly from behind her.

  Marisol's mist reacted instantly.

  The animals leapt forward to protect their goddess—bunnies, deer, and foxes forming a living wall before her.

  At the same time, a great pink serpent made of mist rose and coiled upward, radiating quiet but undeniable power.