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Every heartbeat thunders in my ears. Inuxeq’s body presses down on me, her breath hot and fast against my cheek. The ground is rough beneath my palms, and there’s a tang of blood on my tongue. I dare not move, not even to whisper a question. My eyes quickly glance to the turquoise-fletched dart by the tree, then back to the imposing figure now standing before us.
The man’s piercing gaze settles on us, and his smile is a predator’s grin that makes my skin crawl. He slowly approaches, sword remaining sheathed for the time being. His feather-laden metallic helmet shimmers like the sea under a midday sun. Each step he takes is measured, deliberate, as if he’s already decided our fate, but wants to savor the moment before revealing his choice.
“I ask again,” he says, his tone deceptively calm, “in case you just so happened to not hear me the first time. What brings you here?” The threat in his words is clear: our lives hang in the balance, contingent on the answer we give. I look at Inuxeq, seeking some shared understanding of how we’ll navigate this perilous encounter.
Keeping her eyes trained on the stranger, Inuxeq rolls over and remains on all fours for the moment. I force myself to my feet, my legs trembling with the effort. Inuxeq follows, moving slowly and cautiously. My breath slowly returns to me after Inuxeq’s body collided with mine. We stand together, shoulder to shoulder, and I try my best to mask the nervousness that causes my chest to tighten.
“Our paths have led us to your domain, Xelhua,” I say, my hands splayed out before me, a gesture of peace, much like one would use to approach an anxious animal. “We mean no harm.”
He studies me, his eyes narrowing as he grips the blowgun tighter. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring, nearly unbearable and threatening to snap at any moment. The only sound is the occasional flapping of his vibrant, achiote-colored cloak in the wind. His head tilts slightly, the motion is so subtle that it could be mistaken for a shift in the light. I take this as a sign that he wishes for me to continue, to explain myself further.
I swallow hard, summoning all the courage I can muster. “We seek an audience with you,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice steady, confident, though the quiver in my heart betrays me. “We are not here by chance, but by necessity. Please, understand that our cause is just and our intentions pure.”
Xelhua’s gaze remains inscrutable. His eyes, though, seem to pierce through me, searching for any hint of deceit. He takes another step closer, the ground beneath him seemingly trembles as he places his free hand on the hilt of the weapon by his hip. “An audience,” he repeats, almost thoughtfully. “And what makes you think I should grant it?”
“Our mission is urgent,” I continue, my mind racing as I grasp for the right words. “Our journey is fraught with dangers, and we were told of the possibility that a brave Iqsuwa warrior walked these lands. One who could help us face the battles to come.”
Xelhua remains unmoved. His silence is more daunting than any roar of anger. What is he thinking? Is he weighing the truth of my words, or simply deciding whether we’re worth the trouble of sparing? Either way, I fear that any movement I make could sway him in the wrong direction.
Then, finally, he snorts a brief, wary laugh. “My days of battle are long behind me. I have seen empires rise and fall, warriors come and go. I have bled for causes that are now dust and ash.” He looks past us, as if witnessing the ghosts of battles long gone. “Why should I leave my sanctuary and walk the path of blood and obsidian once more?”
“Because,” I find myself saying, the words tumbling out before I can fully grasp them, “Qapauma is on the brink of chaos. The Achutli loyalists and the Qente Waila are tearing the city apart. We need your strength, your wisdom. We need you, Xelhua.”
“Achutli?” he questions, the word foreign on his tongue, as if testing it out for the first time. A moment of confusion crosses his features, quickly masked by an overwhelming weariness. How long has he been in isolation, I wonder, cut off from the world and its endless conflicts?
He sighs deeply before walking over to a large stone. With a slow, deliberate movement, he lowers himself onto it, resting his weight as if the harvests have finally caught up with him. “I have devoted my life to the demands of war,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “My bones ache with the memories of countless battles. Every scar has a story, every story a lifetime. What more can these tired hands offer?”
There is a pause, a breathless moment where his words float aimlessly between us. In that silence, I sense the enormity of what I’m asking him—to return to a life he thought he’d left behind, to shoulder the burdens of war once more, despite all he’s already given.
“Our enemies now are not like those of the past,” I press on. “They are our own people, divided and tearing each other apart. Your experience and knowledge of strategy could be the key to restoring peace. Without you, we are but fledglings before the hawk.”
Xelhua’s wary eyes rest upon the ground before him, as he’s flooded with the distant visions of events from his past. “I have buried too many friends, watched too many dreams die. What makes this fight any different?”
“This time, we fight not for glory or territory,” I reply. “We fight for the survival of Qapauma, for the very essence of Pachil. The city is in danger, and it needs someone who knows how to bring order to chaos.”
Xelhua scoffs, a bitter, humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Order to chaos? That’s what every warrior believes they bring, but it is only a fleeting illusion. You think your war is any different from the countless others I’ve fought in? War never ends—it only begets more war. Each battle won sows the seeds of the next. I’ve seen it too many times to believe otherwise.”
His gaze hardens as he continues, his voice laced with a deep weariness. “Do you think I don’t know what it means to bring order? To rally men under a banner and lead them to their deaths? I’ve walked that path more times than I can count. Each time, believing it would be the last. But it never is. There’s always another enemy, another reason to fight, another life to sacrifice. The bloodshed never ends, and the peace we strive for is as fragile as a spider’s web, easily torn apart by the winds of ambition and revenge.”
Inuxeq steps forward. “In Tuatiu, she says cooly, “we believe that a true warrior’s spirit never dies. Prove it now. Show the world that even in the twilight of your life, your spirit burns brighter than the fiercest star.”
Xelhua’s eyes flicker with a distant fire, a spark of the warrior he once was. But it’s quickly tempered by the shake of his head. “You speak of chaos and rebellion, but do you know the cost of such a fight? The burden it places on the spirit?”
“I do,” I say quietly, solemnly. “The two of us have seen much devastation, much tragedy. I know that the path we ask you to walk is fraught with peril. But I also know that without you, that path leads only to our destruction. Help us carve a new path, one that leads to hope.”
Another bitter laugh leaves his lips. “You two are but cubs. You know nothing of war. To carry the burden of every life lost, every decision made in the heat of battle. You see only the glory, the victory—but you don’t see the toll it takes, the weariness that seeps into your bones, into your soul. When the battle is over, and the blood has dried, all that remains is the emptiness, the hollow victory that leaves you wondering if it was worth it.”
His gaze pierces through us, searching for something—perhaps a reason to believe, to fight one more time. “Tell me, what makes you think your cause is any different? What makes you believe that this time, it will be worth it?”
I meet his gaze. This time, I’m ready to accept the challenge directed by his question. “Because this time, we are fighting for the future of our people, for the chance to rebuild what has been lost. Yes, we are young, and we may be naïve, but that doesn’t mean our cause isn’t just. The enemies we face will consume everything if we do nothing. They will destroy everything you fought to protect. We need your strength, your wisdom, to stop them.”
Xelhua stares me down, his skepticism clear as he tightens his jaw. “And what happens when you believe this fight is over? Will those you prepare to be in the seat of power be any different from those who came before you? Will you not fall into the same cycle of power and revenge?”
“I can’t promise that everything will be perfect,” I admit. “I can’t promise that the world will change overnight, or that peace will last forever. No one can. But I can promise that we will do everything in our power to break the cycle, to create a world where people like you don’t have to fight anymore. A world where your sacrifices won’t be in vain.”
Inuxeq steps in. “You said it yourself, Xelhua. You’ve seen empires rise and fall. You’ve fought in wars that left scars on your spirit. But if you give up now, if you don’t help us, all those battles, all those sacrifices, will mean nothing. You have a chance to make a difference, to use your strength and wisdom to end this cycle. Don’t let that chance slip away.”
Xelhua studies us for a long moment. His brow furrows, and any remnants of a smile fade as he considers our words. Finally, with a sigh that seems to carry the weight of a thousand battles, he nods slowly.
“Very well,” he says, almost resigned. “I will see if there is still fire in these old bones. All I can hope is that maybe, just maybe, this fight will be the last, as you say.”
He stands, and for a brief moment, I see the warrior he once was. A man who has seen too much and fought too long, but who still carries the spark of defiance in his heart.
Xelhua lifts himself up off the stone, then beckons us to follow him. We trek up the winding path, our footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls of the ancient cliff dwellings. The air grows cooler as we ascend, and the scent of pine mingles with the aroma of old, sun-warmed stone. Massive, weathered overhangs protect the abandoned rooms carved into the cliff face. Their entrances are dark and foreboding, like the gaping mouths of giants.
As we reach the top, the vast expanse of the plateau spreads out below us. A patchwork of golden grasslands and occasional green forests stretch beyond what the eye can see. Nestled high in the rocky outcrops, the cliff dwellings stand silent and imposing. The Iqsuwa moves with ease, his familiarity with this rugged terrain evident in every step. Shadows lengthen across the stone walls, as the setting sun casts an amber glow that highlights the intricate carvings and ancient symbols etched into the rock. What they mean, I do not know, but I find it fascinating that such artifacts exist.
Following Xelhua, we step into the shadowed entrance of the ancient cliff dwelling. My eyes adjust to the dim light, revealing the warrior’s sparse yet functional home. Smooth, weathered stone walls encase us. The ceilings are low, and the rooms are small, but there are hints everywhere as to how he has transformed these ancient ruins into a sanctuary.
Sparse furnishings occupy the space. A sturdy, wooden table with a single, handmade chair, a bedroll neatly tucked in one corner, and a few shelves carved into the rock, which hold simple clay pots, woven baskets, and tools. Yet there are signs that this place is more than just a shelter for him. On one of the shelves rests a beautifully crafted obsidian knife, with its blade polished to a reflective finish. Beside it, a small collection of intricately woven textiles in vibrant colors, carefully folded and well-preserved, perhaps gifts from a loved one or tokens of his heritage.
As we move further inside, the warrior’s presence seems to blend seamlessly with his surroundings. The area around a modest hearth is blackened by countless flames, though it provides both warmth and a place to cook. Its delicate flame reveals more details about the makeshift home: a few hand-painted symbols on the walls, a lone feather tied to a leather strap hanging from a ceiling beam, and a collection of more feathers—bright reds, deep blues, and pristine whites—are bound together, likely part of a ceremonial headdress.
Xelhua kneels by the hearth, carefully tending to the small flame. He adds a few twigs and stirs the embers with a practiced hand. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the lines of age and the scars of past battles that weave across his skin like rivers coursing through a craggy landscape.
“It’s a nice home you have here,” I say, trying to break the awkward silence. “The view is… breathtaking.”
Xelhua nods, his eyes momentarily gaze over the horizon visible from the entrance before returning to the hearth. “The land has a way of humbling you,” he replies calmly. “Out here, you learn to respect the land and the sky, to find solace in the quiet.”
Picking at her cuticles, Inuxeq glances around. “Do you live here alone?” she asks, her curiosity getting the better of her.
“I do,” Xelhua responds simply. “It’s a choice I made long ago. Solitude brings clarity, a chance to reflect.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“Reflect on what?” Inuxeq presses, though her tone is still cautious.
There’s a brief glimpse of something unreadable in Xelhua’s eyes that quickly vanishes like a summer storm as he stirs the embers. “On the past, on decisions made, on paths taken and not taken.”
I step forward, sensing the discomfort, and deciding to return the conversation to his abode. “It must be peaceful here,” I offer. “Do you ever miss the company of others?”
A small, wistful smile touches Xelhua’s lips as he adds another twig to the fire. “Sometimes. But the quiet has its own company. It lets you hear the murmur of the breeze, the calls of the birds, and the tales carved into the rocks.”
Inuxeq looks like an aqueduct about to overflow. She fidgets with her quiver as she looks around the warrior’s living space. After a few beats of silence, she finally blurts out the question that has seemingly been gnawing at her.
“Why are you isolating yourself out here in an abandoned dwelling?” she asks, a bit uncouthly in my opinion. “When we heard that an exalted warrior resides in solitude, I could not believe my ears. Why do so, when Pachil could use all the experienced warriors available to it to rebuild?”
Xelhua’s expression tightens, as a shadow passes over his weathered face. “I’ve done things…” he says slowly, each word laced with regret as he pokes the fire. “Fought for causes I didn’t fully understand. Made choices that cost innocent lives. It’s a past I can’t change, but one I seek to atone for by removing myself from the possibility of harming others.”
His answer is enigmatic, and I want to pry further. However, Xelhua stares long into the fire as though something within the flickering flames haunts him. Inuxeq appears displeased by his response, and I sense she wants to ask him more questions. But before she speaks, I place a hand on her forearm, causing her to twitch reflexively and cease her restless movements.
After a pause, and with his eyes staring into the distance, he finally speaks. “This war… your fight… perhaps it’s a chance for me to make things right, to fight for something just. Perhaps by aiding you, I can help to build a future that atones for my past.”
I can tell Inuxeq is still unsatisfied with Xelhua’s answer, but it’s an answer she will have to accept for now. Maybe it stems from mistrusting the other Iqsuwa warrior, Mexqutli, whom she regularly speaks of disdainfully. Unresolved questions linger in her gaze, but she holds her tongue, knowing there’s a time and place for everything.
“We should make our way back to Qelantu Loh,” Inuxeq suggests. “Before the night settles in.”
We leave Xelhua’s dwelling without any further exchange as the sun hangs low in the sky. The coolness of dusk begins to settle, and my desire to return makes it so that the path ahead seems longer than before. The journey to Qelantu Loh must be swift if we are to reach it before nightfall.
Inuxeq walks beside me, her usual stoic demeanor masking whatever she might be feeling. Yet I sense a shift in her, a curiosity perhaps, or maybe a tentative trust forming. I glance back at Xelhua, who follows a few paces behind
“You know, if I’m to go to war for you,” he says with a wry smile, “it would be wise of me to have your names. After all, I gave you mine.”
Inuxeq snorts, and a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “You mean the name you gave us while you were threatening to take our lives?”
Xelhua chuckles, the sound deep and resonant like distant thunder. “Details, details. The fact remains—if we’re to fight side by side, I should know what to call my allies.”
I offer a respectful nod. “I am Haesan.”
“Inuxeq,” she adds, her tone more casual.
Xelhua nods thoughtfully. “Haesan and Inuxeq… names worth remembering.”
“How did you find this place?” Inuxeq asks, her tone uncharacteristically lighthearted.
Xelhua chuckles again. “There is an old legend about a shaman who found refuge in these caves, seeking solitude and wisdom. I would like to claim I followed some mystical signs.”
Inuxeq raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “And the truth?”
He shrugs, and a rueful smile plays on his lips. “I got lucky. Stumbled upon it while seeking shelter from a storm. Sometimes, even the greatest warriors need a bit of good fortune.”
Inuxeq smirks, shaking her head. “I suppose even the revered Iqsuwa aren’t above a stroke of luck.”
Xelhua’s smile widens just a fraction, his eyes gleaming with a touch of mischief. “Luck is the warrior’s most undervalued weapon. Don’t forget that, young ones.”
The landscape stretches out before us like an endless sea of golden grasses swaying in the wind, dotted with clusters of hardy shrubs and solitary trees. The flat expanse seems to go on forever, a vast plain under an open sky that shifts from azure to shades of amber as the day progresses. Here and there, the silhouettes of grazing animals are interspersed among the horizon, their movements lazy and unhurried. Even as it descends, the sun is a fierce presence overhead, creating a shimmering haze in the distance.
As we make our way towards Qelantu Loh, the conversation turns to our plans. We fill Xelhua in on all that has transpired over the past few moon cycles. Inuxeq and I take turns recounting the events—the attack on Qapauma, our narrow escape, and the alliances we’ve forged along the way. It’s a lot to compress into a short time, but Xelhua listens intently, his expression growing darker with each revelation.
“We must rally the Aimue fighters,” Inuxeq insists, once again. Unfortunately, our conversation naturally leads to Inuxeq’s declaration of what she believes the overall plan should be, perhaps seizing an opportunity to seek a warrior’s take on the matter. “Their strength will be crucial in the battles to come. The northern territories are ripe with potential allies.”
Xelhua nods and grunts in acknowledgment. “In Aimue territory, though they have turned to a simple life of farming, you will find warriors who remember the old ways. As you did with me, convince them that this fight is for their survival as much as ours. Use their traditions, their honor, to rally them.”
It appears the uneasy truce between Inuxeq and me has been broken, and I’m irritated that we are having this discussion again. “And what about Qapauma? We saved the palace from an attack by the Eye in the Flame, but the city remains divided. The Qente Waila and the Achutli Loyalists are at each other’s throats among the wreckage of the capital.”
Xelhua’s brow furrows. “The Eye in the Flame? Clearly, I have been in isolation too long. I do not know of them.”
“They’re a dark force, an evil cult,” I explain. “They’ve infiltrated many regions, sowing chaos and destruction, seeking to claim all of Pachil under their rule. We need to broker a deal between the Qente Waila and the Achutli Loyalists to set aside their differences and defend against the incoming assault, set to take place at the new moon.”
Xelhua nods slowly. “A difficult task. The new moon is not long from now. But why am I, an old and out-of-form warrior of the Iqsuwa, necessary for this diplomacy, especially between two warring sides?”
“Your presence is more than just a show of strength,” I reply. “The people of Pachil remember the Iqsuwa, they remember the warriors’ legacy. In a city as fractured as Qapauma, the reputation of the Iqsuwa alone could command respect and silence dissent. It’s about leverage, and your presence could be the key to bringing the sides to the table, to making them listen when they otherwise might not.”
I sigh, knowing the seemingly insurmountable task that awaits us in Qapauma. “We need someone who has walked the path of war, who knows the cost of conflict, and who can stand as a living reminder of what’s at risk. If things go wrong—and they very well might—your experience and authority might be the only thing keeping the fragile peace from shattering completely.”
Inuxeq interrupts. “And that is exactly why we must go to Aimue first. The Eye in the Flame is a threat unlike any other, a poison that spreads quickly and without mercy. If we don’t rally enough strength now, we’ll be fighting a losing battle in Qapauma and everywhere else. With the might of the Aimue behind us, we can force the others to listen, to unite under a single banner against this darkness. We can enhance our defenses, prepare for the inevitable onslaught.”
She pauses, staring at me in disbelief. “Haesan, you’ve seen what they can do—their power is beyond anything we’ve faced. We can’t afford to be scattered and weak when they come for Qapauma. The capital cannot defend itself with the forces that remain after the cult’s first assault, and whatever is left after their own skirmishes.”
I shake my head, frustration bubbling up again. “And while we’re off gathering allies, Qapauma will fall apart. The Eye in the Flame plan to attack the city by the next moon cycle. That’s barely enough time to rally anyone, let alone march back to the capital. We can’t delay—we need to be there to stop them. If united, what remains there will do.”
Listening intently to our exchange, Xelhua interjects. “The new moon is indeed close. If they intend to strike then, time is not on your side. But Inuxeq makes a valid point. Without a strong enough force, your presence in Qapauma may only delay the inevitable.”
He sighs deeply as he contemplates the matter. “War is not just about who strikes first, but who is prepared for the long fight. It’s a dangerous risk, but perhaps one worth considering. The new moon approaches swiftly.”
Inuxeq presses her point further. “This is exactly what the Eye in the Flame want—to scatter us, to make us weak by dividing our forces. We can’t let that happen. Aimue is our best chance to rally enough muscle to not just defend Qapauma, but to crush the cult before they can spread their influence further. We need to do this right.”
I sigh, recognizing the truth in her words, but also feeling the urgency pulling me towards Qapauma. “But we don’t have the luxury of time. Every moment we spend gathering forces is a moment the Eye in the Flame grows stronger, closer to their goal. We’ve been over this!”
The two of us stare each other down, unable to look past this argument. There are no easy choices, but there never are if the matter is important enough. Something has to give, but it feels like even a compromise weakens us to the point of certain failure. No answer seems like the correct decision.
"Anyway,” I say, reluctantly returning to the never-ending debate once again, “Qapauma needs us. Though tainted and undesirable, Achutli’s influence is weakening, the Qente Waila are a misguided and disorganized band of rebels, and we can’t let the Eye in the Flame gain a foothold there. We have to protect the capital, to give it a chance to host discussions of the right way forward for all factions of Pachil.”
Xelhua grunts as he considers this, scratching the stubble along his jaw. “Both paths are vital, but we need to think strategically,” he advises, his tone thoughtful. “Rallying the Aimue and bringing them into the fold is crucial, but so is stabilizing Qapauma before it falls into deeper chaos. Unity is our greatest weapon, but unity doesn’t always mean standing together in one place. It means working toward the same goal, even if we must walk different paths to get there.”
Inuxeq sighs, her frustration evident. “Different paths? Are you suggesting that we split up? How is splitting up ‘unity’?” I’m astonished by her surprise in his suggestion—a suggestion we had both agreed upon earlier. Was she hoping that a fellow warrior would see her side and agree without a second thought?
“By splitting up,” Xelhua says calmly, “you increase your chances of success. One of you must rally the Aimue and bring their strength to bear, while the other must navigate the treacherous politics of Qapauma. If you both succeed, you’ll bring two powerful forces together when it matters most.”
I reach out, placing a hand on her arm. “We’re dividing to conquer. You know that. We cover more ground this way.”
“Your bond is your strength,” Xelhua adds. “Even apart, you fight for the same cause. Trust in each other and in the path you have chosen.”
Inuxeq looks at me, her eyes searching for reassurance. “I still don’t like it. But I understand. Even in such a short time, we’ve been through so much together, and the thought of facing what’s ahead without you at my side… it’s daunting.”
I’m taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. Inuxeq has always been fierce and unyielding, but this is the first time I’ve seen her express just how much our bond means to her. It’s a side of her I wasn’t sure existed—a vulnerability that makes me realize just how deep our friendship has grown, forged in the fires of battle and hardship.
I smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. Taking inspiration from her by trying to infuse my voice with the confidence I sometimes lack, I say, “We’ll make sure that when we reunite, the Eye in the Flame will regret ever crossing our paths.”
We arrive at the blue and beige tents of Qelantu Loh just as the sun dips below the horizon. The village is alive with activity, every corner of the camp bracing itself for the coming conflict. People bustle about as the fires crackle, sending up spirals of smoke that blend with the evening sky. Children run between the tents, their laughter contrasting with the somber faces of the warriors, who sharpen their weapons and mend their armor. The aroma of roasting meats and simmering stews mingles in the air, accompanied by the clatter of pots and the murmur of voices making final preparations for the night.
As we move through the camp, the reality of our mission rests at the forefront of my mind. The thought of returning to Qapauma once again sends a shiver down my spine, yet fortifies my spirit for the challenge ahead. The city is like a cauldron of simmering tensions, ready to boil over, and it’s up to us to prevent that. I can’t help but think of the faces of the people there, divided and desperate, hoping for someone to lead them out of chaos. And what of Yachaman? Has she survived? Is she somewhere safe? The burden feels immense, but I draw strength from the determination in Inuxeq’s eyes and the wisdom of Xelhua. I must help our people secure a future where everyone can thrive again.
Additionally, my concern for Inuxeq eats away at me. She’s more than capable, but the path ahead is perilous. Despite our differences, our bond has grown strong in a short time. The idea of parting ways, even temporarily, is painful. We’ve shared so much, and though we come from different backgrounds, our goals are the same. It’s strange how adversity crafts bonds quicker than anything else. I realize now that she’s not just an ally, but a friend, and the thought of something terrible happening to her is unbearable.
We approach the section of the campsite where the Qantua warriors are preparing for their departure, and the reality of our impending separation sinks in. Inuxeq and I stand at the edge of this organized calamity, watching the final preparations. The warriors are a formidable sight, their gear meticulously maintained, their expressions focused and determined. It strikes me that we will soon be walking separate paths, each fraught with its own dangers and uncertainties.
As the camp begins settling in for the night, I gather my own small team to escort me to Qapauma. Xelhua stands ready, making his own preparations for the journey ahead. Together, we make our final checks as my grandmother, Nuqasiq, is summoned from her tent. Seeing the Iqsuwa beside me, I can see she’s about to ask a slew of questions. But I ask her to hold off, just for tonight, and promise to explain in the morning. She is wary of this, but ultimately nods in acceptance.
I turn to look at Inuxeq one last time before we part ways. Tousled from the day’s journey, her short, dark hair falls around her face. The glow from the nearby warrior’s campfires add a touch of warmth to her strong features. Usually so fierce and full of fire, her eyes now shimmer with unshed tears she fights to hold them back. Despite the tension in her jaw and the tightness in her lips, there’s a softness in her gaze as she looks back at me, a silent acknowledgment of the connection we’ve made, and the challenges that await us.
“Promise me you’ll be careful, Inuxeq,” I request, my voice catching slightly.
“I promise,” she replies, her chin ascending, and what I believe is an expression of worry flashes briefly upon her face. “And you do the same. We need to see this through.”
We clasp forearms, and a tiny smile barely cracks the corners of our mouths. “We’ll meet again,” she says, sounding as though she’s trying to convince both me and herself. “And when we do, we’ll finally bring peace to Pachil.”
I nod, feeling a swell of resolve. “Until then, fight well, my friend.”
Inuxeq sets off to rally the Qantua warriors at the camp they’ve established beyond the limits of Qelantu Loh. Her once vibrant green tunic is now muted, carrying stains of soil and blood from all that we’ve endured. We’ve shared so much in these past few moon cycles. Now, the thought of facing the future without her by my side is almost unfathomable. But we both know the roles we must play.
With a heartfelt goodbye, I watch as Inuxeq vanishes into the darkness. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the journey ahead. Once again, I return to Qapauma, knowing that I will not leave until I either restore order to the capital of Pachil or perish.