Page 160 of Espíritu

And just like that, the tension began to lift—the kind of laughter that didn’t erase the night but softened its edges.

THIRTY-ONEJULIAN

Yadriel’s house was alive with soft energy when Julian arrived. From the sidewalk, Julian could see the front windows glowing with candlelight and hear the occasional burst of laughter. Inside, the air was thick with the smells of cinnamon, beeswax, and something sweet baking in the oven.

The brujx were getting ready—embroidered shawls and fresh-pressed guayaberas, candles tucked into flower crowns, skirts and sleeves adjusted one last time. Kids darted through the hallway with glowsticks shaped like stars, led by the troublemaker spirits Nina and Rosa. Elders leaned in close over murmured prayers.

Julian stepped carefully through the entryway, trying not to bump anyone. Someone had added a picture of Catriz to the family altar, alongside an unlit cigar. It sat next to the photograph of Yadriel’s mom, surrounded by marigolds and flickering candles.

Julian’s chest tugged. He’d never known Catriz the way Yadriel had, but it felt right that the man wasn’t just a warning anymore. He was a story with an ending.

“I’m here for the Light Bringer!” Julian announced, passing a tío who just chuckled and pointed toward the stairs.

Julian waited by the banister, adjusting the collar of his too-big shirt, swiped from Rio’s side of the closet. The ceremony hummed through the house, building in quiet intensity—sacred, not ominous. Like something big was about to begin.

Footsteps padded down the stairs.

Yadriel appeared, framed in soft gold. He wore a deep black shirt with fine gold embroidery at the sleeves and collar, a sash of marigold yellow tied at his waist. A pillar candle was cradled carefully in his hands.

He looked radiant. Calm and focused, but also a little breathless, like he couldn’t quite believe this moment was real.

Julian stared. “Damn,” he said, because it was the only thing his brain would give him.

Yadriel gave a nervous laugh. “Too much?”

Julian shook his head, a wide grin pressing dimples into his cheeks. “Not even close.”

Before Yadriel could answer, the front door creaked open and Maritza entered in a sea of ruffled, layered skirts. She wore a white blouse embroidered with orange marigolds and purple dahlias, and her hair was freshly braided with golden threads.

“Well?” she said, striking a pose. “How do I look?”

“Like a literal goddess,” Julian said, offering a low bow.

Maritza grinned, preening. “Correct answer.”

Lita swept in, shawl over her shoulders, and fussed with the cuff of Yadriel’s sleeve with tactical tenderness. “It’s time, mi amor,” she said, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Julian’s heart thumped as he watched Yadriel nod and straighten. This was it.

The courtyard beside the yellow church glowed with anticipation.

The brujx gathered in a wide circle, the crowd bundled in embroidered shawls and layered skirts, pressed shoulder to shoulder beneath the winter stars. Pillar candles flickered in every hand—tall and plain, their unlit wicks waiting.

At the front of the church, Yadriel stood with the eternal flame. It crackled faintly, tucked inside its weathered glass lantern, golden and unbothered by the cold breeze.

Julian watched from the front of the crowd, Maritza beside him, clustered near Lita and Enrique. He glanced toward Yadriel—calm and sure in a way that made Julian’s chest go warm and proud.

Yadriel lifted his voice. “In the darkest part of the year, we call to the light. We invite warmth and welcome to every spirit who wanders. For those who are lost. And for those who guide them.”

He touched the eternal flame to Lita’s wick. It caught. She turned and lit the next, and the next, and the next—fire blooming outward in a widening ring.

Strings under a white canopy found the first notes of “La Bruja,” slow and eerily beautiful. Jarochas in white lace descended the church steps with shallow clay dishes balanced on their heads, each dish holding a single candle that did not flicker as they moved. Hips swayed, flames danced, and a spiral of light unfurled around tables piled with tamales, pasteles, pan dulce, and steaming champurrado.

Yadriel stepped into the center. He didn’t balance the candle on his head—he cradled it, its flame reflected in the shimmer of his portaje at his hip. His steps were small, steady. The light moved with him, shadows curling and flickering like spirits slipping closer to warmth.

Julian stood at the edge of the crowd, his heart thudding, practically vibrating with joy and the want to be with Yadriel.

He flashed Maritza a grin. “I’m goin’ in.”