But Alonso was a man who believed in ghosts—specifically, the ghost of his own future. He knelt by the river that cut through the valley like a silver scar and drove his sword into the mud.
"That is a stick," the governor said.
"Esperanza," he said. "Hope."
That night, Huara gave birth to a girl. Alonso held her in his arms, her face scrunched and furious and alive. El Fundador
He had founded something, after all. Not a city. A beginning. But Alonso was a man who believed in
"You are Alonso Martínez?" the governor asked. " the governor said. "Esperanza
The governor laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. "You have nothing, old man."