As soon as they returned to the hotel, Beulah began reviewing the photographs she had taken throughout the day.
Amanda was inside Vincent's room. Vincent wanted to answer her unspoken questions, but time was slipping away. Instead, he opened a drawer beneath the table, took out an old book, and handed it to her.
The title read: "The Final Pages of the Mayans."
Amanda accepted the book and walked into her room.
Vincent returned to his research, cross-checking his collected notes, restarting the investigation he could never truly abandon.
David tried calling his daughter, Angelica, but her number was busy. At that very moment, Beulah was speaking with Angelica.
Amanda sat on the bed and opened the first page of the book.
Long ago, what is now known as Guatemala, Belize, El Salvador, Mexico, and Honduras existed as a single landmass—Central America.
The Mayan civilization had spread across this entire region, dominating it for over three thousand years. Though they belonged to one civilization, the Mayans spoke multiple languages and lived as independent groups with distinct customs.
A young man named Cheran, wearing a green stone ornament around his neck as per his clan tradition, was once again trying to impress Pachamma.
Nearby, a few corn stalls stood scattered, with people waiting to buy grain. At the end of the street, cocoa drinks were being sold.
Cheran's friend Paryas arrived holding a spear. Cheran gestured to him, and after drinking cocoa together, they set out to hunt.
The Mayans believed in eating whatever nature offered—vegetables, fruits, birds, or animals—often raw, without waste.
Pachamma purchased good-quality corn from a familiar woman and returned home.
Near a rock, Cheran took Paryas's spear and sharpened its blunt tip. The two waded through ankle-deep river water until they reached a memorial stone.
It was dedicated to Pachamma's father—a Mayan warrior who had died in battle defending his people.
Both men knelt on one knee, bowed their heads, and paid silent respect before moving on.
Inside her home, Pachamma was teaching children Mayan pictographic symbols. As Cheran and Paryas approached, she stepped outside and began playing a traditional board game with the children.
Cheran walked forward, his eyes fixed only on her.
Noticing this, Paryas glanced at him. Cheran quickly snapped back to reality, grabbed the spear, and hurled it toward a wild boar hidden behind the bushes.
The spear pierced the boar's leg and sank deep into its body.
Despite the pain, the boar fled into the forest. Paryas ran after it, while Cheran stayed behind.
The children praised Cheran in admiration. When a little girl asked Pachamma his name, she answered, "Cheran."
As Pachamma smiled while saying his name, something stirred deep within him.
Inside the forest, Paryas pulled out the spear and thrust it straight into the boar's heart.
The animal collapsed, lifeless.
They tied its legs to a bamboo pole and carried it upside down, each holding one end, heading back home.
As Amanda continued reading, drowsiness overtook her. She closed the book and lay down.
Vincent, however, couldn't sleep.
He stepped onto the balcony and looked into the distance. Somewhere deep in the forest, lights were glowing.
"Something unusual is happening," he thought.
Within moments, he drove his van toward the source. Upon inquiry, he learned that a celestial ritual was underway.
Inside a lit house, a man's broken arm was being treated using traditional medicine. Bamboo splints were tied tightly, castor oil applied gently through cloth bandages.
In the inner room, various herbs were being ground using stone mortars, mixed in precise proportions, and stored carefully as medicine.
An elderly man with greying hair and a thick beard sat at a stall selling herbal remedies.
He looked at Vincent and asked calmly,
"What do you need, son?"
"I was told pure honey is available here. I need two bottles."
The old man smiled faintly.
"You'll find honey here… but not what you're truly searching for."
Vincent frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"No one can change the laws of nature, son."
Without directly naming it, the old man had spoken about the very reason Vincent had come to Mexico.
Seeing Vincent fall silent, the man softened his words.
"Didn't understand? I meant—
How can honey stolen from bees ever be called pure?"