At the deepest chamber, the lantern light fell upon a natural hollow in the rock. Inside, resting on a bed of moss, lay a single object: a small, cracked hand mirror, its silver backing tarnished black.
"That's it?" Lucía whispered, disappointment sharp in her throat. "A broken mirror?"
She gasped and dropped the mirror. It clinked against the stone but did not break.
He nodded slowly. "That is the treasure of youth, Lucía. Not to keep your young body forever. But to see, while you are still young, that every wrinkle, every scar, every loss and every joy—it all belongs to you. The treasure is not eternal life. It is knowing, early enough, that this life—finite, fragile, yours—is already enough."
They walked back to the village in silence. The moon hung low and heavy. At the edge of town, Lucía stopped.
Please confirm you want to block this member.
You will no longer be able to:
Please allow a few minutes for this process to complete.