Inheritance of Shadows

The morning dawned with a muted light filtering through the curtains, casting soft golden hues over the modest room where Alicia and the girls had spent the night. The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of dew-covered grass and faint smoke from a distant fire. Outside, Uncle Benito's old pickup truck rumbled to life, its engine coughing as if protesting the early start. Aunt Sofia, a small but commanding figure, stood by the door with her hands on her hips, orchestrating the movement of luggage and directing her grandchildren, who eagerly helped.

Alicia was tying her hair back into a loose braid, her fingers nimble despite the exhaustion etched into her face. She glanced at her daughters, who were quietly packing their last belongings. Helena's movements were sluggish, her eyes still swollen from the previous night's tears. Victoria, though equally affected, maintained a determined air, carefully folding her clothes as though ensuring they took up as little space as possible.

"Remember, girls," Alicia said, her voice gentle but firm, "we're going to stay with Sofia and her grandchildren. They're good people, and they'll help us settle in. This is just temporary."

Helena nodded, though she didn't look up. Victoria glanced at her mother and offered a small smile. "We'll be okay, Mom. Don't worry."

Alicia's heart ached at her daughter's words, the maturity in them both reassuring and heartbreaking. She leaned down and kissed Victoria's forehead. "I know you will."

Meanwhile, Javier and Damian were preparing to leave for the city. Javier had initially insisted that Damian stay behind, but his son's persistence had worn him down. Now, as they climbed into the truck, Damian's excitement was palpable, though tempered by the gravity of their mission.

The drive down the rugged mountain road was accompanied by the steady crunch of gravel under the tires and the occasional chirping of birds in the trees lining the path. The fresh morning air carried the scent of pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the unease that lingered between father and son.

"Stay alert, Damian," Javier said, breaking the silence. "City Hall is nothing like our village. Things can get overwhelming, and people there might try to confuse you with fancy talk."

Damian nodded, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I'll be fine, Dad. I promise."

When they finally reached the outskirts of the city, the atmosphere shifted. The village's tranquil simplicity gave way to the bustling energy of Mexico City. Narrow streets wound through neighborhoods filled with old colonial-style buildings, their vibrant facades faded but still charming. Vendors shouted from street corners, their voices blending into the cacophony of car horns and distant music.

City Hall loomed ahead, an imposing structure of stone and marble. The grand pillars at its entrance were adorned with intricate carvings depicting Mexico's history—the colonial era, the revolution, the fight for independence. Damian's eyes widened as he took it all in, the vibrant murals and sculptures unlike anything he had seen before.

"It's... beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself.

Javier glanced at him and gave a faint smile. "It is. But don't let it distract you. We're here for answers."

Inside, the building was even more impressive. Marble floors gleamed under the sunlight streaming through tall windows, and chandeliers hung like elegant sentinels from the high ceilings. The air smelled faintly of polish and paper, and the soft hum of distant conversations filled the space. Damian felt a wave of awe mixed with nervousness as they approached the reception desk.

After asking for directions, they were guided to the Department of Property Sales, a smaller office tucked away at the end of a long hallway. The waiting area was modest compared to the grandeur of the main hall, with rows of wooden chairs and a small desk where a clerk was busy sorting files. The hum of an old air conditioner added a low drone to the otherwise quiet space.