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A deafening roar shakes the ground as our icy barrage meets the barrier, only to be absorbed in a blinding flash of light. The air hums with thick and oppressive dark energy, as the barrier pulses with newfound strength. My heart races as I watch the monstrous creature, now more menacing than before. Its molten core glows blindingly brighter, releasing the screams of the melting faces contained within. I’m filled with a deep, gnawing dread as the cultists’ chanting escalates, echoing off the remains of ancient stone walls. I glance at my companions, their faces pale with fear, but also with determination, knowing that if we don’t act quickly, this dark magic will consume us all.
I feel the fleeting hope starting to drift away from me like a feather in the wind. We have done so much to save this city, to rescue the people of Analoixan, yet the challenge has started to feel insurmountable. The relentlessness of this beast, of this cult, is more than I can take on. What more can we do to put an end to this suffering once and for all?
Saqatli hurries to me, clutching my shoulder to grab my attention. I’m startled at the sight of him, remembering that he was a jaguar only moments before. Was I hallucinating this? Did that happen?
Dangling from his neck is a jade and onyx amulet. Is that the one that belonged to me? Reflexively, my hand is drawn to my chest, and I feel the amulet missing. He looks at my hand feeling around for the jewelry, then holds up the amulet and nods. I’m washed over with relief, knowing it’s in his possession, and not that of the Eye in the Flame.
He’s shouting something and pointing toward the ruins of the temple. Yet he isn’t speaking inside my mind as he’s done before. I can’t help but look at him with curiosity, trying to see where he’s pointing.
“Where is Noch?” I ask slowly, punctuating each word with the hopes that he’ll understand me.
He frowns, looking gravely concerned, then shakes his head and shrugs. “Do you not know where she is?” I question, again slowly drawing out the words in Merchant’s Tongue. Unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to understand this part, yet his grief is apparent. Has she vanished? Or worse?
Saqatli adamantly points toward the temple. “You’re right,” I say, clearing my thoughts. “We need to defeat this monstrosity. What’s over by the temple?”
The boy says something emphatically in Auilqa, but I still don’t know of what he speaks. There must be something terribly important over there, but it’s difficult to discern what that is when an enormous monster is terrorizing the remnants of Analoixan. And without a way to effectively communicate, I can’t tell if he’s leading me to a solution or more danger.
Even when you fight, you know deep down you’re just playing at heroics.
The phantom voice of Pahua rings in my ears. There must be dark magic nearby, the same magic that caused this sensation when I broke down another protective ward before.
I expected more from my daughter. Your mother would have been incredibly disappointed.
More whispers, now from my father, Siunqi. ‘Would have’? My mother is not deceased. These voices are trying to distort the world in order to get to me, to knock me down.
I shake my head as if to clear water from my ears after a dive. No, I will not allow these voices to win. I know what’s happening here. The dark magic, it must be close. That must be what Saqatli is alerting me to. There must be something that is bound to the protective ward that shields this beast.
As soon as the realization occurs to me, a series of shouts breaks my concentration. The lava serpent flails its craggy tail, shattering the remains of the temple to pieces. Stone flies in every direction, slamming into Ulxa warriors and cultists aimlessly. Looking up at the beast, it’s getting noticeably taller, bigger, stronger. If it isn’t stopped soon, it will be the size of Analoixan. And what more treacherous feats could it achieve if it reaches that point?
Chiqama and Atoyaqtli rush to my side, their heads pivoting from one side to the other. “Princess,” Atoyaqtli begins, his voice solemn and concerned. “We have assembled the others, but Naqispi is missing. We—“
At the sound of the warrior’s name, Saqatli bursts into tears. My heart sinks. He doesn’t need to say it—I know what has happened.
“Naqispi is…” I can’t bring myself to say the words. The faces of my fellow Sanqo fall, their eyes widening with grief and shock. A heavy silence envelops us, broken only by Saqatli’s soft, anguished sob. They understand without needing to hear the rest. All of us are left standing in the aftermath of our shared sorrow.
“We’ve no time to grieve,” Atoyaqtli says promptly, straightening himself up and lifting his chin. “We must take down that monster, before it ruins anything else.”
“But how?” Chiqama yells, baffled. “It’s not as though we can dunk it into the sea.”
My eyes meet those of Saqatli, who is trying his best to keep it together. “We believe there is a way, but we’ll need to act fast. Something is supplying power to a protective barrier. We need to dismantle it if we’re to have a chance.”
“Protective barrier?” Chiqama parrots. “From dark magic? This is the War of Liberation all over again!”
I look at Paxilche, who stares at me coldly. “Paxilche, see if you can keep the creature distracted, so it doesn’t wipe out any more of our Ulxa warriors.” Then, I point to my fellow Sanqo. “You three, guard him from any incoming attacks by the Eye in the Flame.”
My gaze connects with Tlexnín. “Have you and your Ulxa warriors follow me, Pomaqli, and Saqatli to the site at the temple. Whatever is happening there is feeding this creature. Defend me as I work on taking down this ward.”
“You’re giving out orders and using me as bait for a gigantic lava creature?” Paxilche whines, his voice rising in pitch. “You’re the one with water abilities, and that is a beast made of fire and lava. Why don’t you do it yourself if you think it’s such a great idea?”
Pomacha scowls, approaching Paxilche until he towers over the Qiapu man. “The Sanqo princess doesn’t have time for—“
I gently place a hand on his shoulder, then bow my head. He sees this, sets his jaw, and after glaring at Paxilche for several heartbeats, lets out a tremendous humph before slowly backing away. I take a deep breath, steadying myself before responding. “This isn’t about who does what. This is about survival and doing what needs to be done to protect everyone here. You’re one of the strongest among us, and we need your strength to keep that creature distracted. I have experience taking down the protective barriers. The Ulxa warriors and their people are counting on you, and so am I. If you don’t want any more lives lost, we have to work together and trust each other’s abilities.”
Paxilche rolls his eyes and shakes his head. But before he can say anything else, Pomaqli, along with the Sanqo warriors, steps between him and me. A huge tremor abruptly ends all discussion. The ground shakes violently as the lava creature growls, its fiery eyes locked onto our group.
“We need to go, now,” Tlexnín commands. At this, we race off in separate directions. Paxilche and the Sanqo warriors sprint toward an empty clearing of the temple grounds, littered with fallen trees and crumpled stone columns and statues. I wave on the remaining companions, and Tlexnín signals to the remaining Ulxa warriors to stay close. Following Saqatli’s lead, we move stealthily toward the ritual site.
Though the grounds have lost much of their embellishments and decorations after the Auilqa—and, later, the Eye in the Flame—took control, the area still exudes a radiant sense of sanctity. Few terracotta tiles remain, and many of the huge and significant gemstones have been ripped from their places, but the intricate carvings and sacred spires endure.
As we turn the corner, whipping around a high, stone wall, a blue flash catches my eye. How could I have not seen this? An enormous column of light extends all the way to the sky, soaring beyond the clouds and likely touching the heavens. This must be the blue flame we saw when we first approached the temple grounds! The sight is both awe-inspiring and terrible, sending a paralyzing fear coursing through me.
“Is this what you were trying to lead me to?” I reflexively ask Saqatli, forgetting that he won’t be able to understand my words. I brush off the disappointment and focus on what I can fix. I inspect the column of blue light, which rumbles like a rushing river. Staring into the light for even a single heartbeat causes a searing pain to my eyes. There must be something here that is causing this flame to stay lit.
“Come to disrupt the will of Eztletiqa once again, I see.” A jarring, sinister voice startles me. We turn around to see a dozen men and women in crimson robes, fanning out to seal our escape while staring us down. Standing at the center of them is a man whose robes are adorned with intricately woven patters in gold. There’s something grotesque about this person’s garments, something about how they’re dyed. The deep crimson hue is splotchy, seemingly not achieved with ordinary pigments, but with what must be blood. The way it seeps into the fabric gives it an eerie, macabre sheen.
“You must be the one who attempted to squander our efforts previously,” he says, his voice slimy like a slithering serpent. “I can see this by the diversity of your companions. I was hoping our paths would cross.”
His smile looks unpracticed, appearing more like a snarl. “You did well to dispatch of my associates. We did not expect to meet such resistance. I should thank you for removing the followers who were only holding back our progress. We can now proceed with the will of Eztletiqa as He intended.”
Those with weapons among us draw them, prepared for a fight. This causes the Eye in the Flame member who speaks to chuckle patronizingly. “Oh, I see,” he says, sounding oddly disappointed. “I had hoped to extend an offer to you. Eztletiqa sees great things coming from you, Walumaq. He believes you will be the one to return Pachil to the greatness it once enjoyed.”
He knows my name? But how? His familiarity with me is jarring, unsettling. This man speaks similarly to the prophecy I once received so long ago. Was the crone speaking of this moment when she said I would be responsible for rescuing Pachil or bringing about its end? Are these the destroyers who she claimed were coming?
More motion from behind the speaker brings my attention back to the situation at hand. He was speaking, but I was lost in my thoughts too much to listen. “You have your allies,” he says, as a smirk slowly slides up the corner of his mouth, “and we have ours.”
In a flash, dozens upon dozens, if not hundreds, of Auilqa warriors emerge from behind the speaker. Their chests, arms, faces, and legs are all painted in a horrific, deep red. Many wear simple, leather helmets with red streaks on the sides. Others don metallic helmets with a tacky red coating the otherwise blue or yellow or green feathers. Where did they come from? How many more remain?
Yells and screams echo from beyond the ritual grounds, followed by a ground-shaking tremor. Are there more Auilqa outside this place? Did we underestimate the number of warriors we would need to recapture Analoixan? How could we have felt our numbers were sufficient? My blood runs cold as visions of my endangered companions flood my mind. I can only hope Paxilche and my Sanqo warriors can hold their own for a little longer.
“Go, Sanqo goddess!” Tlexnín shouts to me. “Do what you must to stop that light! We will protect you!”
She yells to her warriors in Ulxa, and, though significantly outnumbered, they all rush the Auilqa warriors and sorcerers in red. Fire slowly emits from the zealots’ palms, and an icy hand grips my chest. But I must focus on completing my task to put an end to this madness.
I dash to the column of blue light. As I run, my eyes desperately search for any clue, any indication as to how it can be stopped. A blur rushes at me from the corners of my vision. I have to keep going. I have to reach the blue flames.
The silhouette tumbles forward, immediately dropping to the ground. I keep running, but my curiosity forces me to glance over. Lodged in the torso of the lifeless figure in red robes is a spear. An Ulxa warrior goes to retrieve it, but leaps out of the way of a ball of fire that hurtles toward her with blazing speed.
I can’t go back to help her. I must keep going. Must keep running.
I begin to panic as I arrive at the blue flame. Before, when the Eye in the Flame crafted their ward at the ritual site, I could see inside the dark energy barrier and locate the markings and items that created the protective shield. But the flame is too bright, and too hot, to get close enough to see inside of it. How am I to determine what has made this awful ward in order to dismantle it?
The obsidian gemstone pulses with warmth against my chest. Its deep purple glow radiates as if battling with the light from the blue flame. It has protected me from such dark magic before; will it do so again?
I close my eyes and take several deep breaths, preparing myself mentally to confront the overwhelming forcefield. The last time I tried such a feat, I was knocked unconscious and suffer from haunting thoughts that seemingly come from my brother and father. Will such an effect happen this time? Will it be worse?
I cautiously extend my hand toward the column of flames. As my fingers draw closer, the heat I expect is replaced by a biting chill that intensifies with every breath. The air around the blue flame feels like shards of ice, cutting into my skin. I clench my teeth and push forward, but the sensation quickly becomes unbearable. My skin begins to prickle and sting, as if a thousand needles are piercing through it.
Suddenly, an excruciating pain shoots through my hand, radiating up my arm. I gasp, the cold so intense it feels like my fingers are being encased in ice. The flesh hardens and goes numb in an instant. I look at my hand, horrified to see my skin turning a ghostly white, then a sickly shade of blue as the blood vessels beneath freeze solid.
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There’s something inside this column of fire. There’s something radiating an energy, something that is powering this dark magic. I squint, trying to see more clearly. Is looks like a gemstone, hovering amidst the flames. Could that be the source of this ward, of the barrier that guards the beast? But the bright light is too much, and even shielding my eyes with my free arm isn’t enough to protect my sight.
The pain morphs into something worse—a deep, burning ache that feels as if my bones themselves are splintering under the intense cold. My nails turn brittle, cracking and splitting from the sheer frostbite. I try to pull back, but my muscles are slow to respond, sluggish and stiff as the cold seeps into my joints.
Each movement sends fresh waves of agony coursing through me. It feels like my hand is dying, the tissues freezing, and the cells bursting from the inside. My breath hitches in my throat. I let out a strangled cry. Tears stream down my face as I finally wrench my hand away from the blue flame.
I collapse to the ground, cradling my hand to my chest and shivering uncontrollably. The obsidian gemstone flares once more, its warmth struggling to combat the numbing cold that has taken hold of my hand. I can barely move my fingers, and I fear the damage may be permanent. The overwhelming force of the dark magic has left its mark on me once again.
“Goddess!” I hear a distant shout. Or perhaps I’m having trouble focusing. In my daze, the blurred silhouette of Tlexnín races toward me. Or perhaps I believe it to be her. So much is happening around me, and I’m left in constant confusion.
Even now, you need us to save you, don’t you?
The voice of Pahua. Except, instead of only being a voice, he stands before me, glowering down at me. The bronze cape he wears, always draped over his shoulders like a protective shield, shimmers in the dim light. He clings to it as if it holds all the confidence he projects, an ever-present emblem of his self-assuredness. You’ve always been the weakest. How is it that father favors you and expects you to lead our people to glory?
“No,” I say, the words barely able to escape my throat. “I can do this. I can protect our people, protect Pachil. I can—“
You’re the reason Naqispi is dead, sister, he scoffs. Why should the Sanqo believe you can protect them?
“Goddess!” Tlexnín shouts again, this time closer. My eyes struggle to focus, but I believe it is her. I hope it is her.
“Is that really you?” I ask the silhouette of the Ulxa warrior. I look for Pahua, but he’s no longer present. Once again, we’ve parted ways.
“Are you okay, goddess?” she asks, crouching beside me. Her expression is overcome with fright as she stares at my withered hand.
“The blue flames,” I say meekly. “There’s something in there. But I don’t know…”
I can’t even finish my thought. I’m too exhausted, too beaten down and broken to speak. Am I actually the one to defend Pachil from those who seek to destroy it, to lead Pachil to peace? How can I be if I can’t weather this storm?
Tlexnín looks down at her spear, her brows knitted. She’s planning something, I can tell. Even though the calamity of battle is happening all around us, she ignores it all, concentrating on her weapon.
“When I was chosen by the Itztecatl,” she says, speaking calmly as she recounts her tale, “the monks blessed this weapon, Cēyōtl. They said I would use it to protect all of Ulxa from anyone or anything that dared to threaten our lands.” She looks at the column of blue fire, then looks back at her spear.
I’m struck with fear as I worry about what she’s planning to do. Just as I’m about to inquire, she rises, standing to face the otherworldly flames. She grips her spear tightly, knuckles turning white. Then, Tlexnín’s figure blurs as she charges forward, her powerful legs propelling her towards the column of blue flames.
I struggle to stay conscious, my vision fading in and out, but I force myself to focus on Tlexnín. In a quick motion, she thrusts her spear into the heart of the blue flames. The weapon cuts through the magical barrier like a knife through silk. A blinding flash erupts as the flames part, creating an opening. The heat and cold clash, creating a searing gust that whips through the air. The frost bites at Tlexnín’s hands as she struggles to hold the barrier open. Her face contorts with the effort, beads of sweat mixing with the blood and grime on her cheeks and brow, all beginning to freeze upon her skin.
A shadow moves at the corner of my eye—a cultist with their red robes flapping behind them. They charge at Tlexnín with a curved blade, eyes wild with fanaticism. She doesn’t flinch. She pivots smoothly, her spear slicing through the air. The cultist’s attack never reaches her as the spear cleaves through flesh and bone. The cultist crumples, lifeless, but another enemy quickly takes his place.
An Auilqa warrior with blood-red war paint smeared across his face and torso emerges. He lunges at Tlexnín, but she twists, narrowly avoiding his blade. In a fluid motion, she slashes the warrior. Her blade catches his arm, and he hollers in pain, staggering back.
Tlexnín doesn’t hesitate. She spins, bringing the spear down in a lethal arc. There’s a guttural scream, and then the warrior drops to the ground.
The barrier shudders, its energy fluctuating. The blue flames flicker, and the opening begins to close. Tlexnín plants her spear firmly, using every bit of her strength to pry it open. “Now, goddess!” she shouts, her voice strained.
I try to stand, but my legs refuse to cooperate. My body protests with every movement, and I stumble to the floor. “I… can’t…” is all I can muster.
Out of nowhere, a sleek jaguar leaps past me, charging at the blue flame at full speed. Is this Saqatli? In this form, he is much quicker, more agile. He darts past me, then quickly slips through the opening Tlexnín has created. His body barely fits through the narrowing gap, flames licking at his fur, but he presses forward.
Inside, the corrupted gemstone pulses with a dark energy I can only describe as sucking all the light out of the world. Saqatli pounces on it, his jaws closing around the cursed stone. A searing light explodes from the contact, and Saqatli lets out a roar of pain. But he doesn’t let go. With a mighty yank, he pulls the gemstone free. The barrier shatters with an ear-splitting crack as fragments of icy magic dissipates into the air.
Tlexnín’s strength wanes, her grip faltering. The barrier starts to close, the icy edges creeping closer. She collapses to one knee, her strength nearly spent. But she doesn’t release her spear for one moment.
With the gemstone in his mouth, Saqatli bounds out through the gap just as it snaps shut. He drops at my feet, and the green gemstone clatters to the ground. In an instant, he reverts to human form. His blistered body shivers, likely from the dark magic’s residual effects.
The blue flames flicker and die, once and for all. The barrier is no more. The creature outside these grounds roars in fury, sensing its imminent demise.
Tlexnín drops the spear, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “The barrier… it is down,” she pants, her eyes meeting mine with a mix of relief and exhaustion. “Now, finish it.”
I nod, and along with the help of Saqatli, the two of us carry each other away from the ritual grounds. All around us, the Ulxa warriors surge, fighting the invading Auilqa warriors with an unrelenting fury. They are greatly outnumbered, but not outmatched, fighting with a ferocity for which their people are revered. I want to help, to see this battle through, but I understand I’m needed elsewhere if I’m to protect this city from further devastation. With each breath, I force myself to keep moving, drawing on whatever reserves I have left. This will be our final stand.
The world beyond the ritual grounds is a cacophony of fire and chaos. As Saqatli and I stumble forward, the air is thick with ash and the scent of scorched terrain. The sky above is a haze of smoke, blotting out what remains of the sun, casting the battlefield in an eerie, unnatural twilight. The distant roar of the lava creature reverberates through the ground, threatening to unleash otherworldly destruction.
In the vanishing light, I can make out the forms of the Sanqo trio and Paxilche, locked in a desperate struggle against the beast. The once formidable jungle is now a battlefield, the trees and remains of wooden homes scorched and twisted by the creature’s heat. Streams of molten rock cut through the ground, creating treacherous paths that force our allies to constantly shift and adapt their movements.
Atoyaqtli fights through his own wounds, his movements growing sluggish. He narrowly avoids a fire projectile, the heat singing his skin from the barrage of near-misses. “Hold on, Atoyaqtli!” I shout, though my voice is barely audible over the chaos.
The lava creature roars again, louder this time, as if it senses its impending doom. Its molten body pulses with a fierce, angry light, the heat emanating from it now so intense that the very air around us seems to warp and bend. The ground beneath our feet cracks and smolders, sending up plumes of acrid smoke that sting my eyes and throat. Every breath feels like inhaling fire, each gasp a struggle to keep going.
The suffocating and oppressive heat bears down on us. My vision blurs as sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes and making it hard to focus. It's as if we are standing at the mouth of a volcano, the searing heat threatening to incinerate us where we stand. I can feel the edges of my consciousness fraying, the sheer exhaustion ripping at my will to press on.
“We need to cool it down now, Paxilche!” I scream, my voice hoarse and raw, barely audible above the roar of the creature and the crackling of flames. Paxilche’s eyes meet mine. His lips press into a thin line as he nods, brows knitting.
“I’ll summon the storm,” he exclaims with a strained voice. He raises his hands to the sky, chanting words that reverberate through the smoke-filled air. The sky above us darkens, swirling with ominous clouds. Lightning streaks through the sky, illuminating the battlefield in stark, white flashes. The first drops of rain hiss as they strike the superheated ground, evaporating on contact. But soon, more follow, relentless and cooling the air, much to our relief.
I clutch the obsidian gemstone in my hand, feeling its cold, pulsing energy responding to the storm Paxilche has conjured. The water around me churns, forming icy tendrils that snake through the air, ready to strike at my command. The gemstone hums with power, its dark surface reflecting the lightning in the stormy sky.
The monster thrashes violently, molten claws gouging deep ruts into the earth as it lashes out in fury. Fireballs erupt from its gaping maw, arcing through the air with deadly precision, forcing us to dodge and weave through the inferno. With his strength finally spent, Atoyaqtli stumbles and collapses to the ground, his body trembling from exhaustion and the searing heat. Chiqama rushes to his side as he tries to shield his fallen comrade from the relentless onslaught.
The ground quakes with each of the creature’s steps, its molten body growing more unstable as it loses control. The beast’s anger burns hotter and hotter, causing the heat to become unbearable, suffocating. My skin prickles as the storm’s icy winds swirl around me, the cold energy intertwining with the power of the obsidian gemstone.
“Now, Paxilche! Together!” I shout, my voice barely cutting through the chaos around us. The storm rages above, and the gemstone pulses brightly. I thrust my hands forward, unleashing the icy water towards the creature, the tendrils of freezing water cutting through the heat like knives. Paxilche joins his power with mine, directing the full force of the storm at the core of the beast.
The impact is immediate. Steam billows, obscuring the beast in a cloud of vapor. The monster shrieks in pure agony as the icy water collides with its molten body, steam exploding in every direction. The ground beneath it hisses and pops as the heat meets the cold, the force of the collision causing the ground to tremble. The storm intensifies, the rain falling harder, and the air is filled with the sound of steam and cracking rock. Its body convulses, fissures splintering across its surface as the intense heat within begins to cool and harden. But the creature is far from finished.
With a final, desperate roar, the monster gathers its remaining strength. As it rears back, its molten core flares with a last surge of energy. Its body shakes with the strain, then unleashes a torrent of molten rock. The fiery wave explodes outward, a final, furious effort to repel us. The ground buckles under the force of the eruption, sending jagged shards of rock and sprays of liquid fire in every direction. The searing heat forces us back, the sheer intensity of it threatening to overwhelm our efforts. The air ripples with the force of the blast, and for a moment, it feels as though the creature might yet prevail.
“Keep going!” I yell, refusing to let the heat defeat us. Paxilche and I push harder, our powers merging into a freezing storm. The cold seeps into the cracks, spreading like frostbite. The monster’s movements slow, its molten glow dimming.
Finally, with a resounding crack, the creature collapses. Another gemstone tumbles free, landing at my feet. It appears to be like the one that formed the barrier at the ritual site, with a dark, inky cloud swirling within its deep green exterior. I grab it, feeling its malevolent energy surge through me. But I hold on, determined to contain its power as its power seems to merge with that of the other gemstone.
The ground beneath us cools, the oppressive heat dissipating. I look around, seeing the exhausted but victorious faces of my companions. Atoyaqtli and Chiqama tend to Pomacha, whose breathing is shallow but steady.
Tlexnín strides toward us through the ruins, her remaining Ulxa warriors trailing behind her like shadows. The toll of the battle is clear across their faces—grim, hollow-eyed, and weary beyond measure. Only a few dozen have survived the onslaught, their once-proud ranks now decimated. They drag the headless corpses of the Eye in the Flame cultists into the clearing, their bodies limp and lifeless. Among them, one figure stands out, even in death. The intricate robes, dyed in what appears to be blood, mark him as the leader I had confronted, now reduced to a gruesome spectacle.
Tlexnín meets my gaze with a hard expression. “We interrogated the survivors,” she says, her voice flat and drained of emotion from obvious fatigue. “They told us the Eye in the Flame are forming alliances throughout Pachil, including with the Auilqa.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach, stealing the breath from my lungs. I had thought the fighting was finished, that we could finally catch our breath, yet this information feels like a cruel twist of fate. The knowledge that the cult’s reach is spreading chills me more than the memory of the barrier’s icy touch. It’s as if we’ve cut off one head of the serpent, only to find that two more have taken its place. The battle may be over, but the war is far from won—a never-ending cycle, a tale as old as time itself.
I glance at the disembodied cultists, feeling a creeping shiver of unease. Tlexnín had claimed to be above such practices, but apparently, the old ways die hard. The sight of the headless bodies is a reminder of the brutality that even those who fight for good can resort to when pushed to the edge. Perhaps this is her way of releasing her anger, her way of punishing them for the destruction they’ve wrought upon her city, her people. But as I stare at the grisly scene, I can’t help but wonder—do they deserve this? Even those who have inflicted such evil—does it justify this kind of vengeance?
Despite his wounds, Atoyaqtli steps forward. “We should travel to the Auilqa capital, Qasiunqa, to investigate,” he suggests. “If what she speaks of is true, and that the Eye in the Flame are forming alliances there, we need to stop them before they gain more power.”
Tlexnín’s eyes flash with a fierce, almost feral anger. “I want revenge against the Auilqa,” she growls with her barely contained fury. “They must pay for what they have done.”
I step closer, trying my hardest to keep my voice calm. “Great Tlexnín, your city needs you. Your people need you to lead them. Analoixan needs to be rebuilt. Let us go to Qasiunqa and stop the cult.”
For a moment, she looks at the ruins around us, the overwhelming destruction reflected in her eyes. I can see the internal battle waging within her—vengeance or duty. Finally, she nods reluctantly, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion, the fight seemingly drained from her. “You are right, goddess. I will stay and rebuild. But you must promise me—destroy them.”
Around us, the aftermath of battle lingers, our movements sluggish with fatigue. My Sanqo warriors tend to their wounded, Pomacha and Atoyaqtli. Paxilche stands apart, a ball of fury barely contained, pacing back and forth as his anger radiates off him in waves. His eyes burn with a hatred that seems to scorch the very air around him.
“This can’t happen again,” he mutters, his voice dark and dangerous. “The Eye in the Flame threaten the Qiapu, too. Saxina will roll over for the cult, just like before.”
We all know he’s right, but there’s little we can do in this moment except to plan for the future. I place a hand on his shoulder, trying to anchor him. “We’ll stop them, Paxilche. We have to.”
As we prepare to leave, I glance back at Tlexnín. Now a grimly small band, her warriors stand around her, calm despite their losses. They look to her for guidance, for strength, and though she is battered and broken, she stands tall, her chin lifted proudly, defiantly.
“Analoixan will rise to greatness again,” she fiercely declares. The words resonate through the ruins, a small glimmer of hope amid the destruction. I know it’s not just a statement—it’s a promise, a vow to her people, to herself.
With that, we depart the ruined city once again. Crumbled buildings and charred remains line the streets, a haunting testament to the battle we fought. Tlexnín and her warriors stay back, determined to rebuild from the ashes. Their resolve is inspiring, yet I can’t shake the feeling of leaving a part of myself behind.
Still within the limits of the devestated Ulxa city, Chiqama’s voice cuts through the somber silence, his anger raw and unfiltered. “This wasn’t worth Naqispi’s life,” he spits, grief evident in his eyes. He leaves his statement at that, walking away from me, from the city we fought so hard to defend. I have no answer, only a heavy heart.
My heart aches for the lives lost, for the innocence shattered. Smoke and ash cling to the air. I’m overcome by a feeling of impending doom, the sense that our struggles are far from over. Each step feels heavier than the last, burdened by our collective grief and uncertainty. I wonder if this fight will ever end, or if we’re merely trading one monster for another.