The sun of Natlan was just beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in molten gold as you prepared for your departure. The air carried the familiar scent of volcanic stone and wild blossoms, a mixture you had grown used to during your time in the land of flame.

Footsteps—steady, warm, unmistakably his—approached from behind.

Kinich stopped in front of you, his expression softer than the blazing persona he so often wore. In his hands, he held a small bouquet of vibrant crimson and amber flowers, their petals glowing faintly like embers caught in the dusk.

“I heard you were leaving soon,”

He said, voice low but carrying a gentle heat.

“Natlan can be… intense for outsiders. But you handled it well. Better than well.”

He hesitated for only a heartbeat before extending the bouquet toward you.

"Consider it a gift. Or a reminder.”

When you took the flowers, the warmth against your palms felt almost alive—like a lingering echo of the land you were about to leave… and of the warrior who stood before you.

Kinich looked away for a moment, the tips of his ears tinged with a heat that had nothing to do with the sun.

“Take care on your journey. And… if you ever return to Natlan, I’ll be right here.”