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There’s a deep, ominous grumble, like a warning growl from the tomb itself, as if it knows we’ve taken what it cherishes, what it swore to protect. Dust rains down from the vanished ceiling—I had nearly forgotten we’re still within a pyramid, not in an actual garden outdoors. Amidst the calamity, my fingers tingle as I barely manage to clutch the turquoise amulet. Suddenly, the floor beneath us shudders violently. The stones begin to give way, falling into an endless abyss below.
I barely have time to think. My instinct kicks in—Upachu! Debris crashes down around us, clattering on the stone before dropping into the void. The grand tree possessing fruits from all over Pachil disappears into the black pit. Beside me, Upachu stumbles, his old bones unsteady on the shifting ground.
The floor beneath Upachu’s feet cascades into the darkness below. He wavers, teetering on the brink of the abyss. I leap towards him. Our fingers brush briefly before I manage to seize his wrist. My muscles strain as I heave with all my might, fighting against the pull of the void. As the ground beneath him gives way entirely, I tighten my grip on his arm, refusing to let him fall.
"Hold on!" I shout, my voice barely audible over the deafening noise of grinding stone and collapsing rubble. Upachu’s eyes widen with fear, but he clutches my arm, his grip surprisingly strong for an old man. His weight drags me down, and for a terrifying moment, I think we’ll both go over.
My heart drums in my ears. I shift my position, digging my heels into the crumbling stone. As I pull, the amulet slips from my grasp. It glints in the dim light, tumbling as it falls through the dust-choked air.
With a desperate lunge, I stretch out my free hand, fingers grazing the amulet. The stone crumbles further, and I fear all will be lost into the endless pit. Still gripping Upachu, I lunge again, my other hand darting out to catch it. My heart lurches as I fumble, the amulet nearly slipping beyond my grasp. With one last effort, I manage to hook it with the tips of my fingers, pulling it back from the precipice. Relief floods through me as my fingers close around its cool surface.
But it’s short-lived as the ground trembles more violently. It’s as if the tomb is enraged by our intrusion. The floor is still plunging into the vast sea of black. We need to go. Now.
“We have to move!” I bark, hauling Upachu to his feet. He looks dazed, stunned, but nods while catching his breath.
“Head for the platform!" Síqalat shouts, pointing towards the only stable ground in sight. She’s already on her feet, her eyes searching for the safest route. She shouts something else before dashing through the chaos. But her words are lost in the din, as the walls now tumble around us.
We scramble, leaping from one collapsing stone to the next. The abyss yawns beneath us, a dark maw ready to swallow us whole. Just as we reach the platform, the floor gives way, cracking and splitting behind us. We sprint, my feet barely catching solid ground as we make it to safety. Only a gaping void is left where we had just stood.
There’s not much further to go. The exit is in sight. As we reach a narrow passage, the ground gives one last heave. A loud crack splits the air, and the corridor begins to collapse behind us. We run, reaching a flight of stairs and scramble up them, not daring to look back. As we approach the top, I push Upachu forward, diving after him, and the three of us barely find firm footing
We collapse on the floor. Panting, I glance at my companions. Upachu is shaken but safe, and Síqalat is already catching her breath.
“What is with this tomb and its floors?” Síqalat mutters, her voice strained.
I clutch the amulet, feeling its power pulse through me. “Let’s keep moving,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “We have to get out of here before this tomb decides to bury us for good.”
We press on, the passageway constricting around us. The air grows thicker, more oppressive. My chest burns, and I struggle to draw a full breath. It appears as if the ceiling is lowering down upon us. This place isn’t finished with us yet.
“Over there!” Síqalat urgently points to an open stone doorway on the far side of the room. We hurry, uncertain whether it will lead to safety or more danger, but not feeling as though we have much of a choice.
The doorway opens into a vast chamber, with walls that are lined with intricate carvings. The air is cooler here, and I can finally breathe with ease. The rumbling fades behind us. It feels like a rare reprieve, though we all suspect it’s only a matter of time before its true nature reveals itself.
Upachu shuffles over to a stone wall. In a slow, deliberate motion, he lowers himself to the ground, his back resting against the cool, rough surface. He closes his eyes for a moment, his breath coming in shallow, labored gasps.
Regrets begin seeping into my mind, questioning why I brought him along. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve made a grave mistake, a terrible miscalculation. This nagging notion that I’ve needlessly endangered him is unrelenting, never giving me a moment’s peace.
A whisper, barely audible but unmistakable, slithers into my thoughts. You brought your old friend here to die, to sacrifice him for your own ambitions.
I look around the chamber, glancing at Upachu and Síqalat. They’re both exhausted, too tired to do anything more than sit in place. Neither appears to react to the voice, groggily gazing at the ground.
My heart races as the voice continues, tireless and insidious. You think you can lead, but you are nothing more than a misguided child. Your approach to completing your mission will be the death of you all.
I grind my teeth in frustration, trying to shake off the words. But they burrow deeper, bringing with them images that flash in my memory. Scenes that I don’t recall ever occurring, yet they feel real, as though I’ve experienced them before. I’m overcome by the sensation of letting my family down, lacking the foresight to ensure Upachu is kept safe. Everything we’ve encountered—here in Auilqa, but also in Wichanaqta and the assassin in Hilaqta—cause me to question my ability to strategize, to plan.
The worst of the visions is when I see Upachu struggling, his strength waning. In it, we’re traversing these same Auilqa jungles—is this a premonition of events to come? His steps stagger, his progress slows, and he reaches out to me for help before collapsing onto the ground. I can do nothing to save him. I’m the cause of his demise. And for what? This sensation gnaws at me as though its likelihood during this journey is inevitable.
The voice hisses, repeating itself over and over and over again. I claw at my head, at my ears, urging the voice to cease, to go away. Yet it continues to remind me of my shortcomings, of my poor decisions, of my futility.
Against the stone wall, Upachu starts to whimper. His eyes are full of sorrow, tears welling up inside, and turning red after he fitfully rubs them. “Perhaps…” he meekly mumbles—is it actually his voice that speaks? It appears so, but the whispering voice fills me with doubt. “Perhaps it would have been better if I had stayed behind, Teqosa.”
The voice twists his words. Yes, you are a burden, an old man slowing us down. I feel the hissing voice planting these words in my mind. You should have stayed behind.
Upachu clasps his head in his hands, slowly cradling back and forth. Is he struggling with voices, too? Are his whispers telling him something different?
My fists clench, nails digging into my palms. “No, Upachu,” I mutter, shaking my head, resisting, refusing to give in. “You are not a burden. You are our seeker of truths, our wisdom. Without you, we are lost.”
“But I’m one more obligation you must look after,” he says, his voice trembling. “Just another liability you must chaperone. You’d be better off without me. Everyone would. Your family would’ve been better off if I never existed. I’m the reason your father… your sister…”
Upachu convulses with heaving sobs. He collapses to the ground, tears streaming down his face in torrents. He writhes in anguish, shaking uncontrollably as he gives in to his overwhelming grief.
I start to approach him when the voice in my head is suddenly replaced by a crippling ringing. It’s a discordant noise that causes an unbearable pain, forcing me to my knees. I grimace, covering my ears with my hands as if that will block out the sound. Yet it persists, as though whatever force or spirit that fills this place does not want me to console him.
I fight through the aches and suffering, slowly crawling over to Upachu. A horrible ringing floods my ears. The sound intensifies with each effort. I yell involuntarily, unable to hear the screams leaving my mouth.
Where is Síqalat? In all this, she’s nowhere to be found. I search the chamber for her, but she’s vanished. Has something happened to her? Or, worse, has she left us here to perish? I gnash my teeth in anger, realizing the voice from earlier was right.
She is not to be trusted, the voice says, sounding in my voice. You should never have allowed her to lead you to this place. You will die here, all thanks to her. Are these my genuine thoughts?
They can’t be. When Síqalat was hanging on at the edge of the cliff, there was a force compelling me to let her fall. I had nearly succumbed to the voice urging me to stomp on her fingers, to shove her off. I may have had my doubts about her trustworthiness, but they escalated the further into the Auilqa jungles we went. The closer… we got to the lagoon, to this tomb. Is there some connection to this place and the voices we’re hearing?
“Síqalat?” I call out, my voice echoing off the stone walls. Panic begins to well up inside me. Has she been hearing a voice, as well? Has she surrendered herself to it? Did she venture out into the collapsing tomb?
From what appears to be a dense wall of vines, I hear a faint, trembling voice. “Leave me alone... I’m not... I don’t want to be abandoned again.”
“Síqalat!” I shout, my eyes sweeping the chamber. She must be hidden behind the vines.
I push through the tangled greenery, parting the curtain of leaves and tendrils. Within a narrow passageway, just wide enough to slip through sideways, stands Síqalat. She slides along the tight corridor, occasionally covering her ears and crying out in pain. She repeats, “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”
“Síqalat!” I call out once more. The ringing in my ears reverberates my skull. This relentless, piercing agony overwhelms me. My vision blurs as I push forward. I grit my teeth, determined to reach her despite the torment.
I latch onto her shoulder, trying to halt her in place. She shrugs me off, continuing to advance down the passageway. But I persist, grabbing her arm and calling out her name until she cranes her neck to view me from the corner of her eyes.
“Just let me leave,” she sobs, her voice barely audible through the ringing in my ears. “I’m no good to you. You just… don’t understand.”
She tries to slip through my grasp, but I manage to hold on. There’s a pain in her voice, something that extends much further than this journey to the tomb. Uncertain what to do, I simply say, “You’re not alone,” and stroke her shoulder in these tight confines, hoping to reassure her.
The ringing stops abruptly. I look around, as if the source of the noise is, for some reason, here with us. Of course, it’s not, but it’s the shock of the sudden silence that causes me to glance around with curiosity.
I snap my attention back to Síqalat. Her lips press together tightly, quivering as she struggles to hold back the sob. She looks down at the stone wall lined by verdant vines. “They always leave,” she mutters. “Always. It’s just… easier this way.”
“Who? Who left you?” I ask, trying my best to keep my voice gentle.
Her eyes dart away, now focusing on a point down the passageway beyond. “Everyone… They all left. It’s just better if I leave first. No more broken promises.”
I move my hand to rub her closest shoulder to me, but she recoils, pressing herself tighter against the stone wall. “You don’t have to do this alone, Síqalat. I know I haven’t been kind. I accused you unfairly, that you’d likely abandon us here in this tomb. I almost let the voices get to me and let you fall into the abyss. But I was wrong. We’re not just paying you to guide us. You’re part of this team. You’re our friend.”
As the words escape my mouth, I find that I genuinely do believe her to be a friend. What started as a purely transactional relationship has grown into something more—I’ve come to like her. She’s not only a capable fighter, but I enjoy her wit, her humor. She may possess a hardened exterior, but there’s a caring individual hidden away in there—a vulnerability I can certainly relate to.
She shakes her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You say that now, but when things get tough, when I’m no longer useful… You’ll see. They all do.”
“No, we’re different,” I insist. “We’ve come this far together, haven’t we? We’ll face whatever comes, together.”
Her gaze finally meets mine, and for a moment, I see the depth of her pain and fear. “I can’t… I can’t go through it again.”
“You won’t have to,” I promise. “We’ll find a way. Just come back with me, please.”
Slowly, she reaches out, her hand trembling as it meets mine. Together, we make our way back to the main chamber. I hear the voice continuing to wedge between us, but something feels different now. The effect seems faint, the voice sounds distant. Like a half-hearted effort.
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Upachu is sitting up now. He’s slouching over, arms resting on his knees. Síqalat and I approach him, and I lower myself to a crouch. With one hand, I rest it upon his shoulder, taking my other hand and lifting his chin so that his eyes meet mine. I crack a subtle, consoling smile.
“Whatever these voices are, they can’t take away what we’ve accomplished, together,” I say. “We would never have made it this far if we didn’t face the challenges together. Our strengths go beyond covering for our weaknesses. And that includes you, Upachu. That’s why we’re going to succeed, no matter what is thrown at us.”
My old friend nods—at first, reluctantly, but then, assuredly. “I have taught you most of what you know,” he says with a smirk. I roll my eyes, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“Sun and sky!” Síqalat remarks. “I didn’t think you knew how to laugh!”
I shake my head in mock annoyance, then stand up and extend my hand to Upachu. Lifting him up to his feet, the three of us look around the hollow chamber. The light is dimming inside this room, and when I look around, I see no source. Yet something instinctually tells me this place, this tomb, doesn’t need torches; there’s something supernatural at work here. Is it something of which to be concerned? Judging by the vitriolic voices we’ve been hearing, perhaps so.
“Let us leave this place,” I say. “Síqalat did some advanced scouting and may have found our way out, just there beyond those vines.”
Síqalat snorts. “And cracking wise? What has your time in this tomb done to you, Qantua?”
We slip down the narrow passageway, following a steady stream of cool air that flows from the other side. The vines occasionally snag our garments, but we’re too determined to depart this place to care. We slide our feet along cautiously—if this place has taught us anything, it’s to always remain alert, knowing that not everything is as it appears.
To our fortunes, the path leads us to a grand chamber. The air thickens with the scent of incense that mingles with the fresh moss encasing the ancient stone. All around us, the walls are adorned with vivid murals, their colors vibrant and alive under the wavering light. From the ceiling, heavy drapes of crimson and indigo silk ripple softly as if moved by an unseen breeze. Piles of gleaming treasures spill across the ground—golden idols, intricately woven textiles, and polished gems.
“What is this place?” Síqalat asks, gazing around the room with fascination. She excitedly skips over to one of the golden crowns laying lifelessly upon the floor, beset with emeralds and turquoise. It frequently slides off her head as she looks for a reflective surface in which to admire herself.
“The Tomb of Inqil,” Upachu states. “Though… I don’t see…”
“There is no tomb,” I note. At the far end, torches cast a soft, golden glow upon a throne of jade and gold that rises majestically from the floor. It’s guarded by towering stone carvings of jaguars, teeth snared and claws splayed out threateningly, and eyes that seem to track our every move.
“Then, what makes it a tomb?” Upachu wonders. “Was it a misinterpretation? Perhaps it was a mistake in translation from Auilqa to Merchant’s Tongue.”
The entire room trembles, dust kicking up off the ancient stones and drapes. Síqalat immediately tosses the crown onto the floor, then reaches for her weapon, hurriedly assembling it. Upachu shrieks, cowering and shielding his head with his arms. Instinctively, I go to retrieve my glaive, but soon realize it has been sacrificed to Itzatlix.
I stand frozen, my breath caught in my chest as the air around me thickens, shimmers. Materializing out of the very shadows that clutch at the stone walls is an apparition, a regal, female form larger than life. The throne accepts her as if she belongs, her skin glowing like polished bronze under the flickering torchlight. Feathers and gems cascade from the majestic headdress made from bone that covers her straight, black hair, while her fierce gaze pins me to the spot.
“Who dares enter my chamber?” her booming voice reverberates, quaking the entire room. Upachu drops to his knees and bows his head. Panicked, Síqalat does the same, placing her forehead onto the ground and splaying out her hands in front of her. Uncertain what I should do, I opt to drop to a single knee, as I would for the great kings who once ruled Pachil.
“Oh, great spirit,” Upachu begins, his voice trembling like the room we’re in. “We seek to understand—“
“I am no spirit, you insolent fool!” the figure berates us. Suddenly, the stone statues begin to crack and splinter, and the two beasts flanking the throne come to life. Their fur glistens like polished onyx, and their eyes burn with the intensity of molten gold. The jaguars’ claws, sharp as curved daggers, extend menacingly. Their fangs gleam as they snarl savagely, muscles rippling beneath their sleek coats.
“We are three travelers,” I humbly proclaim. “I am Teqosa, and this wise elder beside me is Upachu, of the Great Library in Hilaqta. And this is Síqalat, great adventurer of the Achope. We are on a quest to seek understanding of the knowledge left by Sualset, great champion of the Eleven. We—“
“Sualset?” the figure asks, furrowing her brow in confusion. “You speak of her as if she were a distant legend. She is my friend, my confidant. What knowledge do you seek that would bring you to desecrate my resting place?”
Upachu gawks at the figure, speaking with reverence and awe. “Inqil, herself!”
I take a step forward, my voice steady and confident. “We seek the truths buried in the past, the remnants of a time when the Eleven stood against the darkness. We did not come to desecrate, but to learn, to understand the sacrifices made and the wisdom left behind.”
Her voice carries a mixture of sorrow and curiosity. “I do not understand. Why would the legacy of Sualset lead you here? What is it that you hope to find among these walls?”
“In Wichanaqta, we learned of powerful items that would protect Pachil, should the time arise,” I state. “I fear that time may already be here.”
Inqil’s form wavers slightly, as if grappling with her own memories. “Sualset... she was always the seeker of truths, the one who looked beyond the immediate to see the threads that bound our world. If she entrusted something to my tomb, it must have been of great importance.”
“You are unaware of what’s been left in your tomb?” Síqalat asks, then covers her mouth in embarrassment.
Síqalat’s confusion is understandable. Sualset ensured that the amulets were protected, and could only be retrieved by someone truly worthy, should the need ever arise. It took a lot of ingenuity and insightfulness to determine the locations, likely a safeguard should evil find its way to them. Yet for the amulet to be in a tomb, to be protected by an entity that wasn’t aware it was present and needed its power to secure it? It’s a peculiar situation, to say the least.
Then, I consider the construction of this tomb. It would have been made after Inqil’s passing, after the Eleven sacrificed themselves to defeat the Timuaq. So, was… Did the amulet… How else could…
“Sualset had buried the amulets before they went to defeat the Timuaq,” I declare, astonished. “They went to fight the titans with different amulets than the ones she left behind.”
“The amulets?” the figure of Inqil asks. “We wore them to fight and defeat the Timuaq, indeed. How could we–”
“Great Inqil,” I say, growing more confident as the realization hits me. “I am the brother of Entilqan. We have discovered Sualset’s hidden amulets and the wisdom she left for future generations.”
“Teqosa!” Inqil exclaims. “It is you! Entilqan spoke highly of you during our travels.”
“I am greatly honored that a hero such as my sister would praise me so,” I say, genuinely flattered. In fact, I feel my cheeks start to flush at the thought.
Inqil pauses, her eyes narrowing as she suddenly scrutinizes us. “Very well, travelers. Though I hold deep respect and love for your sister, I cannot concede any valuables Sualset determined to be precious and vital to the security of Pachil so easily to anyone. If you are indeed here to honor her memory and seek her wisdom, then you must prove yourselves worthy of such a quest. Speak truthfully, and let your intentions be pure. What is it that you seek to do with the knowledge you uncover?”
I take several steps forward, much to the displeasure of the jaguars. Inqil shushes the beasts, stroking their obsidian fur to calm and sooth them. I pull out the lapis lazuli amulet suspended around my neck, then retrieve the turquoise amulet found here in this tomb. At the sight of the amulet of the turquoise bird, Inqil’s eyes grow wide with shock. “My amulet!” she remarks. Her eyes darken, growing suspicious of us and our intentions. “How did you come into possession of it?”
“My sister’s spirit guides me, and I seek to understand the true nature of these artifacts to protect Pachil from the threats that still linger,” I respond. “When I last… spoke? Dreamt? When I last encountered Entilqan, I was wearing this lapis lazuli amulet. She immediately recognized it, just as you recognize your own. She, too, was confused by its existence, assuming it had come with her into the afterlife. I feared these may be forgeries created by someone who pillaged the lumuli chests in which they were stored. Yet there have been moments when it has surged with an inexplicable energy, something that has given me a power I can’t comprehend. Thus, they must be real, which only confuses me as to what was worn by the Eleven in your battle with the Timuaq.”
Inqil looks just as perplexed as I feel, though she doesn’t appear angry. “My connection to the others of the Eleven is not what it once was,” she says somberly. “If I could, I would inquire with Sualset as to what she has done. I am afraid I can be of no help in that matter.”
“However,” she says, suddenly perking up, “to hear that there are others with capabilities… Indeed, it means that a threat to Pachil looms. From what we discovered, the gods only bestow such powers if there is an entity that seeks to destroy our world. That you have been bestowed such a gift is no surprise, seeing that you are the brother to the great Entilqan. You must have an insight into the matter that has deemed you trustworthy of possessing such a power. The gods have blessed you—you should be honored.”
The news stuns me. Do I possess powers? Perhaps that is what the glowing amulet indicates—a signal to the gods that someone is worthy of being their champion. However, I have now discovered another amulet, when all I was seeking were answers through the glyphs written on the papyrus. Are there others with such powers?
As though she reads my thoughts, Inqil answers, “Each one of us was crafted an amulet, a means of harnessing and increasing our capabilities. That you have found another indicates the gods will bestow gifts to others, as well.”
“How many would there be?” Upachu asks, his voice sounding like that of a specter in its near whisper.
“We were told there would be one champion for each faction,” Inqil states. “Who they are? I am afraid I also cannot be of help in this matter.”
Another realization suddenly comes to me. “Now I believe this amulet was not left for Itzatlix to protect alone, but perhaps Inqil would be an extra measure of security, should Itzatlix be bested or defeated.”
Inqil smiles wide. “Indeed, I would not allow someone unworthy of possessing myamulet. Nor would Itzatlix. It seems Sualset knows us well.”
“If what you state is correct,” Inqil abruptly announces, “and you have encountered Itzatlix, I am to believe you have sacrificed something of great value to enter the lagoon, yes?” We nod, uncertain where this conversation is going.
“In Auilqa tradition, sacrifice is the ultimate testament of our devotion and commitment,” she says. “It is believed that only through offering something of profound personal significance can one achieve favor with the gods and reveal greater truths. Our ancestors taught us that the greater the sacrifice, the greater the reward, and thus, we hold sacred the acts of offering that bind us to the divine.”
Inqil bows her head respectfully. “It must have been something precious if you were to make it to this point, to sacred grounds. You would have been sent to your deaths otherwise.”
I struggle to comprehend this. Hadn’t the tomb collapsed around us, trying to kill us? Weren’t we faced with voices that sought to drive us insane? To me, it would seem we were sent to our deaths, likely thought to not survive and arrive here.
Then, it strikes me—another revelation. The trials we faced were not meant to kill us outright, but to test our resolve and worthiness. The collapsing tomb, the maddening whispers... they were challenges designed to see if we would falter or press on. Itzatlix and the spirits sought to prove our dedication and sacrifice. Only by facing these ordeals and surviving did we demonstrate our worth to stand before Inqil.
Inqil raises her head, a solemn expression on her face. “You have proven your worth by enduring the hardships and emerging with your spirit intact. Your resolve has been tested, and you have not faltered. As such, you are deemed worthy to receive these gifts.”
“Gifts?” This has gotten Síqalat’s attention. “What… gifts?”
Inqil closes her eyes for a moment, and is wrapped in a celestial glow. She smiles warmly, then snaps to attention as if some realization has just come to her. As she opens her eyes, she spreads her arms out in front of her. “To Upachu, wise and esteemed keeper of the Great Library of Hilaqta, I give you the gift of insight. Many languages have been spoken on Pachil, and you shall now understand them in all their forms. With this knowledge, you will be able to invoke the wisdom of the land in which you step, and understand the historical events and forgotten rituals of those who lived upon them.”
Upachu bows deeply. “Thank you, Inqil, for this gift with which you honor me. I will make the best use of it for the rest of my days.”
“To the valiant warrior, and brother to the great Entilqan, I present to you this.” The air crackles with energy, a palpable shift that raises the hairs on my arms. Before me, the air around me seems to ripple. And then, like a vision emerging from the depths of a dream, it appears—a weapon unlike any I have ever seen.
The haft, carved from the sacred wood of the ancient lumuli tree, gleams with an ethereal light. Intricate glyphs etched into its surface pulse with life, glowing softly in the dim chamber. The curved and graceful blade is forged from a type of iron of which I’ve never seen—its surface reflects a spectrum of colors that dance and shift as I move about to inspect it.
I reach out, fingers trembling. In response, the glaive hums a resonant tone that vibrates through my bones. Lifting it, I feel a surge of power that courses through me, as if I’ve formed a connection to the very heavens. The blade feels alive in my grasp, its weight perfect, its balance impeccable.
Pleased, Inqil then turns to Síqalat. “For you, Síqalat, who has sacrificed much to arrive at this point, allow me to bestow upon you this gift.” What I observe to be particles of dust descending from the high ceiling, I soon realize they are forming a stone disc the size of one’s palm. The particles form peaks and valleys, as if creating a landscape atop its surface. As Síqalat holds it, she rotates from side to side, and the shapes upon the disc shift and contort, like they’re following along with her movements.
“Allow this compass to be your guide, great wanderer,” Inqil says. “May you always find your way.”
The monumental figure sits back into the throne, gazing long upon the three of us. “You have much more to travel in your journeys to come,” she says. “I wish you well, that you will discover the knowledge you seek. The gods have entrusted you with significant responsibility. Protect Pachil—do not let Them down.”
With that, she bows her head, causing the feathers of her headdress to rustle and the bones to clatter together. The jaguars lower themselves beside Inqil and return to their stone statue form. The champion of Auilqa gradually fades, her figure flickering as she starts to vanish.
“Wait!” Upachu shouts urgently. “We have many more questions! What about—“ But before he can ask his questions, Inqil disappears from sight.
Upachu lowers his head in disappointment, wincing at the missed opportunity. Síqalat rests a hand on his shoulder. “Those you revere always conveniently time their departure when you need them most.”
The sound of grinding stone jolts us. Panicked, we leap to attention, searching for the source of the commotion. Two large stone doors slide open, revealing a blindingly bright light, as though we’re staring into the sun. As my eyes adjust, I better understand what’s happened: to my relief, a passageway has been revealed to us, exiting into the jungle amidst the daytime.
We emerge from the tomb, battered and breathless, and the sun greets us. I blink away the harsh light, adjusting to the world outside and the suffocating darkness we’ve left behind. Upachu leans heavily on me, his breaths ragged but relieved. Síqalat wipes the sweat and dirt from her face as she looks out over the shimmering waters of the lagoon.
I have to squint to make out the familiar silhouette of our llama. It stands there, placid and indifferent, munching on tufts of grass as if we haven’t just faced death and despair. It hardly notices us, uninterested in our sudden appearance. Some personalities never change.
I pat the llama’s neck, feeling the coarse fur beneath my fingers. “We made it,” Upachu whispers, more to himself than anyone else, joining me in stroking the llama’s back. Síqalat nods while her gaze remains fixed on the horizon.
She and I take the raft, leaving Upachu, the llama, and the cart behind. The water laps against the sides of our makeshift vessel, the wood creaking under our weight. The ripples from our oars catch the light like fragments of a shattered mirror along the surface of the lagoon. I’m thankful that we’ve survived, and can continue our journey to the next destination.
We hop off as the raft scrapes against the shore, the murky mud shifting beneath our feet. Síqalat stretches, her eyes narrowing as she surveys the landscape. She’s about to collect her possessions before I return to retrieve Upachu when a rustle from the surrounding shrubs and reeds alerts us.
Dozens upon dozens of Auilqa warriors, bodies cloaked in warpaint, emerge from the foliage, their presence as sudden and overwhelming as a summer storm. They stand tall in a semicircle, forming an impenetrable wall and leaving us no escape. Their fierce, dark glares are intensified by their painted faces. They hold their drawn weapons at the ready, pointed at me and Síqalat.