The creature saw its own nameless, formless horror reflected in the polished black stone.
It lunged. Elías didn’t move. He thrust the obsidian shard forward. It was not a blade, but it didn’t need to be. It was a mirror. En Tierras Salvajes
With a final, silent implosion, it collapsed inward, folding into a point of absolute darkness no larger than a grain of sand, which then winked out of existence. The cabin shuddered. The breathing walls went still. The creature saw its own nameless, formless horror
Mateo tilted his head. The gesture was perfect. Too perfect. “No? Then why do you hold my compass? Why do you wear my father’s ring on your finger? Why did you cross the Sierra and the Páramo and the canyon of black sand? For a stranger?” He thrust the obsidian shard forward
Elías raised the revolver. “You are not my brother.”
And it recognized itself.