Everything was deserted. People were still asleep as the sun began its ascent to the highest point in the sky.

Scarlett took a deep breath as she stared at the horizon. This journey had finally offered her a solution to what had been tormenting her for so long. A year ago, her son had died in a terrorist attack. Even now, her stomach clenched just thinking about Felipe’s little face that morning he left for an expedition and never came back.

She had never been the same since. She was angry with God, with every god that had ever existed, with the entire universe.

How could they punish her like this? Why make her endure such inhuman pain?

On a friend’s recommendation, she had taken this spiritual journey to heal. But she didn’t want to heal. She wanted to find the ones responsible and make them suffer as she had.

During one of the tourist excursions through this land of ancient legends, she heard a particular tale: they said that if one offered souls to the god of disaster, he would grant a wish.

She missed her son so much…

Wasn’t it worth the attempt?

She walked to the edge of the trail, looking down at the town below, where people were beginning a new day.

What a shame, Scarlett thought, it will be one of their last.

A sharp pain shot through her side, near her liver, just as she saw a happy family stepping out to sell fruit together. A lump rose in her throat.

Why could they enjoy that, and she couldn’t?

That kind of family bond… it had been stolen from her.

But she was ready to get it back.

She closed her eyes, brought her hands to her chest, and took a deep breath.

—Oh, god of disorder, Carú… make my wish come true. I offer you these souls in exchange for my beloved son.

She whispered it to herself like a prayer.

Minutes later, explosions rang out. Screams. Dust and smoke filled the air. The entire section of town below her was going up in flames.

But Scarlett could only think of one thing:

her son.