The shaman finds himself moving between worlds. Ready to make his magic, he is suddenly caught off guard when he realizes the magic has taken on a life of its own. His lips move to utter his dismay, but only the garbled voice of the chicharra, theĀ mischievousĀ mescalito in disguise, has replaced his own. That old trickster. He is looking back at the shaman through his own palm as the inhabitants of this particular dimension look on in horror. However, the shaman is not afraid. For he knows, deep inside, that it has always been this way. He is part of the force that tests him now, just as it is a part of him. Together they will journey through many more worlds. As the tattoo on his heart proclaims…