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It’s their wide smiles amidst the decay and degradation that you find to be the most unsettling. Still reeling from the shock of Xiatlidar’s wretched state, the settlers around you now stand face-to-face with the two men who promised them paradise. Vitor Criato and Atelmaro Ulloa stride towards you, their expressions unnervingly bright, as if they’ve just stepped out of the grandeur they’d sold you on back in the homeland. But here, surrounded by the rot and ruin of their so-called utopia, those smiles feel like a cruel joke that the rest of you haven’t heard yet—or worse, a truth that you are all too late to understand.
Criato extends his arms as if to embrace the newcomers. His cheeks are flushed, and he exudes a kind of oily charm, the kind that slides off him like sweat. Beside him, the younger renowned explorer, Ulloa, maintains his rigid expression, as if trying out the concept of smiling for the first time. The two men look almost out of place in their finery—Criato in his meticulously tailored coat, its deep crimson fabric untouched by dirt, and Ulloa in his elaborate vest, adorned with gold embroidery and numerous ribbons that catch the dim light. Their faces are clean-shaven and their hair carefully groomed, as if the squalor around them simply doesn’t exist in their world.
“Welcome, welcome to Xiatlidar!” Criato’s voice rings out, rich and booming, as if he’s addressing a gathering of nobility rather than a group of haggard, disillusioned settlers. “You’ve finally arrived at the place we spoke of so fondly. The land of opportunity, the promise of new beginnings!”
The settlers exchange uneasy glances. The hollow-eyed, gaunt faces they passed on their way in, the stench of decay, and the sagging buildings—they speak of anything but opportunity. And yet here are these two men, standing with an air of pride as if they’ve brought you to a hidden gem rather than a festering wound in the heart of a foreign land.
Sensing the uncertainty, the veteran Criato takes another step forward with an unwavering expression. “I’m sure it must be overwhelming, seeing Xiatlidar for the first time. But fear not! With time, you’ll come to understand the great opportunity that lies before you.”
There’s that word again, ‘opportunity’. How could anyone see this desolate place as an opportunity? Your gaze once again drifts to the settlers already here—the hollow-eyed figures who watch from the shadows with expressions void of hope. They are the true testament to what awaits you, what Iker tried to warn you about.
Captain Lema looks about the setting warily. “What has… happened here?” he asks, struggling to conjure the question as he takes in the state of disrepair.
Criato’s smile falters for a moment—so quick you might have imagined it—before he smoothly recovers. “Ah, the forest, my dear captain. It’s a wild, untamed thing, you see. We’ve faced challenges, certainly, but that’s the nature of exploration, isn’t it? Any experienced adventurer would understand. We knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the rewards… oh, the rewards are still within our grasp.”
Your group looks at one another, confused. What rewards await in a place like this? Some are noticeably trying to convince themselves that what they’re seeing is some kind of mistake, something temporary. But others don’t seem as easily swayed, including Captain Lema, who inspects the settlement skeptically.
“I would’ve thought,” the captain says with a tinge of suspicion, “that having the Great Xiatli present would have lead to a more… thriving settlement, no?”
“Paradise doesn’t come without effort, Captain,” Criato insists. “It is something to be built, to be earned. What you see now… it’s merely the foundation. A place where the true glory of our Sapa will soon shine through.”
Ulloa nods stoically in agreement, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. Speaking to nobody in particular, he proclaims, “Indeed, we were chosen by Xiatli Himself to lead this endeavor, to shape this land into a beacon of prosperity. And you, all of you, have been selected to be part of this grand vision.”
The words ring hollow, like they’re part of a practiced speech full of false promises and empty assurances. Such statements were told to you all back in Legido, but something feels off about them being spoken here, amidst all of this. And yet the way they speak, with such conviction… it almost makes you question your own perception. Almost.
Captain Lema stiffens beside you, clenching his jaw. “What exactly do you expect us to do here?” he asks.
Criato’s smile never wavers, but there’s a jarring coldness in his eyes now. “You were brought to these lands to work, Captain. To contribute to the great cause. Xiatli has chosen you, just as He chose all of us, to play your part in this grand vision. And in return, you will be rewarded with His favor.”
Ulloa steps forward, his presence almost menacing despite the smile still plastered on his face. “But of course, Captain, if you have doubts, if any of you have doubts…” he almost glares at those of you gathered before him, “you are free to leave.” His voice drops, pausing to take in the worried expressions of your group. “Though I must warn you, there is nothing beyond these grounds but wilderness and death.”
You glance around at the other settlers, noticing their pale faces, and their eyes wide with fear. Every instinct in your body screams at you to turn and run, to escape this place. But there is no escape—only the suffocating realization that you are trapped, just as the settlers who came before you were trapped. The once-hopeful whispers of the group have died out, replaced by the uneasy silence of resignation.
When no one speaks up, Criato takes it as a sign that he’s won this battle, that those who are inferior have been put in their place. “You all must be exhausted from your journey,” he says, his tone dripping with false concern. “But fear not, we will take care of you—just as Xiatli Himself has willed it.”
The settlers murmur among themselves, but Criato waves it away with a dismissive hand. “Come,” he urges, gesturing for the group to follow. “We have much to discuss. Xiatli has great plans for all of you.”
As you walk deeper into Xiatlidar, the illusion of paradise continues to crumble. The streets are nothing more than uneven patches of mud and rot, the ground beneath your feet sinking with each step. The structures around you that were meant to be homes and places of refuge are decaying husks—walls bowed inward, their wooden frames swollen and splintering from the relentless moisture. What were once likely vibrant banners of crimson and gold and blue now hang in tatters, their colors faded to a sickly brown, fluttering weakly in the stagnant air. How could it all have fallen apart so quickly?
The smell is nearly unbearable, a rancid mix of mold, decay, and something far worse that lingers at the edge of your senses. The sound of dripping water splattering against the mud echoes in the silence with a slow, daunting rhythm. The forest seems to claw its way back into the heart of the settlement—vines creeping over walls, roots breaking through the thin floors, as if the very land is reclaiming what was taken from it.
You pass what must have once been envisioned to be a communal gathering area. Now, the remains of the failed construction efforts are little more than a pit filled with stagnant, murky water. The few settlers who dare to venture outside their crumbling homes move like lost spirits, their eyes hollow and lifeless, as if the hope has been drained from them long before you arrived.
Criato and Ulloa stride through this festering decay as if they are walking through a grand palace. They talk of great plans and divine favor, completely oblivious—or perhaps willfully ignorant—of the ruin that is all too apparent to everyone else. The pair lead the way with an air of superiority, as though they are gods among men. They covertly speak in low tones, their voices just loud enough for you to catch snatches of their conversation—vague references to “sacrifices” and “the chosen,” words that make your blood run cold.
Landera steps closer to you, her voice a whisper meant only for your ears. “It’s worse than Iker described. This isn’t right. None of this is right.”
You nod subtly, your own anxiety deepening. Criato and Ulloa continue to speak, their words wrapping around the crowd like a suffocating fog. They talk of the glory of Xiatli, of the sacrifices that must be made for the greater good, of the rewards that await those who prove themselves worthy. It’s all so carefully crafted, so practiced—and because of how frequently the same words have been repeated, so disingenuous.
And then Criato’s gaze lands on you. His smile widens as if he can sense your doubt, your fear. “You must be excited to be here, to be part of something so much greater than yourself.”
Fear surges through every nerve in your body. Why are you being singled out? What are you supposed to say? You’ve been quiet for too long, and the pause is turning awkward. You feel the words caught in your throat. There’s a sudden pain at your side as you feel a jab to your ribs. You look at the source, and find it’s Landera, her eyes urging you to say something, anything.
“Y-yes, sir,” you manage to stammer. “To serve the cause is a great honor, indeed.”
Though Ulloa remains stoic, Criato beams. “Everyone has a purpose, in the eyes of the great Xiatli. He sees everyone’s value, everyone’s use. I expect He sees great things for you, too!”
‘Great things for you’? Is there something he knows that you don’t? What does Xiatli have planned for you? You glance at Landera, at Iker, but both are unresponsive as they’re taking in the dreaded scene around them.
The encounter is unsettling, and as much as you’d like to put the moment behind you, it lingers like a bad odor that has seeped into your garments. Or, maybe, there’s a genuine foul stench that has clung to your clothes, given the stagnating water everywhere that turns this area into a swampy mess.
Ulloa points to a location further away from the rest of the settlement, indicating this is where you all are free to establish your camp. While it’s mercifully a distance from this disastrous center of the settlement, there isn’t much of a clearing to ideally set up any tents. Shrubs fill any spaces between the trees, and the terrain is littered with loose rocks, making many uncomfortable given the recent traumatic events. Yet Captain Lema looks at the area with indifference, seemingly succumbing to fate. He orders everyone to move out and begin clearing the land to make way for your new camp.
“Psst,” you hear. You search for the source, only to find Landera waving you toward her. You sneak over to her, wondering why she’s being so secretive.
She looks at you conspiratorially. “I think there’s a place way over there—“ she points to some unseen location beyond the dilapidated buildings toward what you assume to be potential farmland—though it could use a lot of work, in your opinion. “We could stake it as our own and not have to do all that work!”
Landera has a point. Nobody appears to have laid claim to the area—while it will require some clearing out to make it more habitable, the work won’t be anywhere near as much as the place Ulloa designated for you all. This seems like an excellent work around, one that will hopefully make your time in Xiatlidar somewhat bearable.
The two of you get to work right away. The excitement of your discovery lends a burst of energy to your tired limbs. Landera grins as she yanks away a stubborn vine, revealing a patch of relatively clear ground beneath. “See? This is much better than what Ulloa had in mind,” she says, her voice filled with a rare note of optimism among these trying times. While still rough around the edges, you find that the area has a certain charm to it—an almost serene quality, as though the land itself had been waiting for someone to enjoy it. The trees here are tall and provide ample shade, their branches rustling gently in the breeze. It’s a small slice of peace in the midst of the degradation that is Xiatlidar.
As you both continue to clear away the underbrush, the sound of your work blends with the distant noise of the settlement. Even from here, the grumbles of settlers struggling with their far less appealing plots can be faintly heard. Rocks are shifted, thorny shrubs are pulled out by the roots, and within a short while, the area begins to take shape as a potential new home. The ground is level, the soil is surprisingly soft, and the space is large enough for your tents and maybe even a small fire pit. You and Landera share a satisfied glance, both of you knowing that you’ve found something worth holding onto in this desolate place.
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Just as Landera starts to unroll her tent, you hear the sound of footsteps behind you—heavy, purposeful. A knot of unease tightens in your stomach. You turn slowly, and your worst fears are confirmed as Benicto and Dorez emerge from the shadows of the trees, their figures hulking against the dimming light.
“So,” Benicto sneers, “this is where you decided to hide, oilaskoa. Seems like you are your accomplice have found yourselves a nice little spot. Conveniently far from the rest of us, isn’t it?”
Dorez crosses her arms with a cold and calculating expression. “I should’ve known the two of you were up to something. Thinking you could just take the best spot for yourselves while the rest of us toil away in the muck.”
Landera steps forward, fighting to keep her voice steady despite the visible surge of anger. “We found this place fair and square. It was open, and we’ve done the work to clear it out. If you wanted something better, you should’ve looked harder.”
Benicto surveys the clearing. “Except this isn’t where Ulloa told you to set up, is it? You thought you could just pick the best spot for yourselves?”
You glance at Dorez, a silent plea in your eyes. You had started to think that maybe the two of you had turned a corner and were beginning to form a tentative friendship. But she meets your gaze with a hard, unyielding stare, and her earlier friendliness is now a distant memory.
Benicto chuckles darkly, taking another step closer. “You know what? I don’t think we’ll report you to Captain Lema after all. We think this spot suits us just fine.”
Dorez smirks, her eyes glinting with malice. “So why don’t you be good little Legido and move along? We’ll take it from here.”
Landera’s eyes flash with defiance as she charges up to Benicto. “We’re not going anywhere. We found this place, and we’re staying. If you want it, you’re going to have to fight for it.”
Benicto and Dorez exchange a glance, clearly sizing up the situation. You can see the calculation in their eyes, the way they’re weighing their options. The smirk fixed to Dorez’s face tells you all you need to know about their intentions. Your heart drums in your ears, and your breath comes in short bursts. Just as Benicto seems ready to make a move, a shadow falls across the clearing.
“Is there a problem here?” Gartzen’s voice cuts in with a stern look.
All four of you turn to face him, as everyone is caught off guard. Gartzen’s gaze sweeps over the scene, taking in the cleared area, the defensiveness of your stances, and the barely concealed hostility between you and the other two.
“Seems like this spot is in high demand,” Gartzen observes coolly. “But I’m afraid it’s off-limits to all of you.”
“What?” Landera blurts out in disbelief.
“You heard me,” Gartzen replies, his tone brooking no argument. “No one’s setting up camp here. Ulloa directed us to set up our tents over there. Find somewhere else.”
Benicto and Dorez exchange frustrated glances, but they know better than to challenge Gartzen. Without another word, they turn and stomp away, their earlier bravado deflated. You and Landera watch them go, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling within you.
Gartzen turns to you with a hard gaze. “That goes for you two, as well. Find another spot. And next time, don’t try to skirt around orders.”
With that, he strides away, leaving you and Landera to pack up your things and start the search all over again. She shakes her head and kicks the dirt in frustration. After all your hard work, the fleeting victory you’d felt moments ago now feels like ash in your mouth.
“It was a good idea, at least,” you offer, hoping to console your friend.
“Let’s go,” she mutters, slumping her shoulders and unable to keep her head up as she sulks away.
The two of you drag your feet through the rough paths of the settlement. Landera laments that all the good places—or those that could barely be considered “good”—are likely to be taken, so there’s no need to rush back. Therefore, you try to take in the day, and the warmth of the sun on your face, even if it means pinching your nose while you walk past the marshy patches throughout the colony.
The commotion amidst the otherwise quiet calm immediately draws your attention. Landera looks at you with curiosity, wondering what’s taking place. With a nod, you both hurry over to see what the clamoring is about.
You weave through the muddy paths, around the meager dwellings, and eventually arrive to the edge of the settlement. Hundreds, if not thousands, are swarming around a few figures in the middle of the calamity. Is it a fight? Is there some news from elsewhere? The two of you slip your way through the crowds, sneaking between and around the settlers’ legs to get closer to the source of the frenzy.
Your breath almost entirely escapes your body at the sight. Next to Criato and Ulloa is the Great Xiatli, His very presence commanding awe and fear in equal measure. The luminescent figure hovers ever so slightly above the ground, the only glimmering and pristine entity in this abysmal place. His shimmering gold tunic, armor, and radiant headpiece glow brighter than the sun. He looks down upon all who have gathered with regality, though you get the sense that He feels this matter is beneath Him.
He extends a golden arm toward one of the settlers bowing before His feet. You observe the man, whose soiled clothes are greatly tattered and ripped, as if he’s journeyed long and far for whatever he’s presenting to the Great Xiatli. He doesn’t dare look upon the deity, instead keeping his eyes fixed to the ground at his feet.
The person next to the bowing figure, who also doesn’t meet Xiatli’s gaze, looks equally worse for wear. His dirtied red and blue shirt and leather trousers hang loosely from his figure, and his angular face is marked with numerous scrapes and scratches. Both men wear worn leather shoes on their feet that are barely held together by fraying laces.
It’s this other person who sputters out, “Great Sapa, we have returned from the long journey with this great gift.” He waves a hand to his companion, who holds out his arms and is frozen in place, too scared to move. He offers something in his trembling hands that you can’t quite make out from where you stand.
“We worked the rivers for a long time,” the other man continues, “and were able to find these pieces of gold. Though they will never be as brilliant as You, they off us hope that riches do, in fact, exist in this land!”
For an instant, you believe you see a hint of a smile across the man’s lips. Though he doesn’t hide it well, it’s clear that he’s proud of what the two of them achieved. It’s difficult for you to see the gold, hardly looking like anything more than dirt or dust in their hands. But the murmurs and remarks from those around you indicate that this must be true, that there are riches here after all.
“A joyous day!” Criato boasts. He swings a fist in the air, and the crowd around you rejoices. Cheers and shouts erupt throughout those gathered, and you think you may have even seen Ulloa display a subtle smile. Men and women clap one another on their backs, hugs are exchanged, and a surge of celebration brightens up the atmosphere. There is hope now, a sudden feeling that maybe this tough journey has finally shown it’s been worth the struggles.
“We should begin searching those streams at once,” Criato declares. “Let’s begin assembling teams to—“
“No,” Xiatli’s voice booms, rumbling the ground. Smiles fade, embraces are undone, and everyone looks about with confusion. “This is a pittance, and not what I seek. This?” He holds up the flakes of gold that glint meekly in the sunlight. “This is meaningless.”
The Great Xiatli tosses the tiny gold pieces aside and into the surrounding mud. Everyone around you gasps, staring at the place where the flakes are likely to have been flung. Yet you notice that no one seeks them. No one drops to their hands and knees to search for the flecks of gold. You’re all too stunned to care, wondering what in this world could be more valuable than gold.
The deity scowls, staring daggers at the two men. By now, they’ve dropped to the ground, laying flat and nearly kissing the mud before the Great Xiatli’s feet. You think you hear them muttering apologies, or maybe they’re prayers. But you definitely know they’re begging for mercy, for the Great Xiatli to spare them their lives.
With disgust, the Great Xiatli practically spits on the ground before them. “It should have been here,” is all he says. He repeats this a few more times, swiveling his head as though looking for whatever he claims was to exist in this place.
Only Vitor Criato is brave enough to interrupt the deity’s loathing. “My Sapa, perhaps what you seek is only a short distance away. If we travel to where You—“
The Great Xiatli strikes the renowned explorer with a swift punch to his face. Criato immediately drops to the ground, clutching his jaw, but not daring to utter even a groan in agony out of fear of upsetting his deity further. “It is not here,” the Great Xiatli declares. “If it is not in these infernal forests, then it does not exist here. We must continue on without it. You,” he points to Captain Lema, “prepare a ship to return to Auruma Xosta. After gathering the necessary supplies, have it return to these shores at once.”
Captain Lema is overcome with bewilderment. “My Sapa, that will take months to travel there and back. What more supplies could we possibly need that we don’t already possess here?”
You swallow your heart back down your throat. Did he dare question the Great Xiatli? He’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, you determine. You thought Captain Lema had better sense than that!
If He could do so with a single stare, the Great Xiatli would burn Captain Lema where he stands. He flies straight to the doomed captain, towering above him with a rage of a thousand suns. “Do you have something more important to attend to here?” He asks starkly. “Do you believe yourself to be more important than what I command?”
The deity waves a hand, too disgusted with Captain Lema to look at him any longer. “I have no use for you, then. Seize him and—“
Captain Lema falls to his knees. “My Sapa, no!” he pleads, and you find his desperate groveling to be pathetic. “I-I-I will do as You command, of course! Whatever will support the cause, I shall do, without question!”
Criato smirks ominously as he takes much pleasure in this moment. “You heard the Great Xiatli,” he says with flamboyance. “We are to seize you and—“
“Sapa!” Captain Lema shouts. “Four months!”
Everyone ceases. Ulloa and Criato exchange a look of bafflement. In the silence, Captain Lema continues. “I will return to Legido, collect the supplies You desire, and return here in four months.”
Criato looses a hearty, cynical laugh. “It took us more than four months just to arrive to these lands,” he notes sardonically. “And you think you can make the trip to and from Auruma Xosta in the same amount of time? Have you lost your mind at sea?”
“If it spares my life for just four months and a day longer, it will be worth the effort,” Captain Lema states. “But with my crew, I know I can do it.”
The Great Xiatli studies the marked captain long and thoroughly. His lips tighten, and He never blinks as He meets the doomed captain’s pleading gaze. The crowd murmurs, questioning Captain Lema’s sanity, and wondering if the deity will spare him his life.
After what feels like days, the Great Xiatli finally announces His decision. “Very well. I will return to Xiatlidar in exactly four months. If your ship is not visible on the horizon, I will track you down and kill you and your family immediately.”
You’re unsure how the Great Xiatli will fulfill this promise, but as a deity, you don’t doubt that He has the means to do so. Captain Lema nods abruptly, repeatedly thanking the merciful Xiatli while taking hurried steps backward. He calls to Gartzen and his crew to join him, and in this moment, your heart sinks. Are you, too, supposed to return to Legido? Is Landera?
Someone pulls at your arm, drawing you into the swarm of people. Your instinct is to fight them off, shrugging away the hand that has latched onto you. But with a quick glance, you see Iker’s face emerge from between two settlers.
“Come on!” he urges. “This way!” His eyes eagerly ask you to follow him, away from this place. You look for Landera, but you can’t find her among the mass of people. You try calling out for her once, but Iker places his hand caked with dirt over your mouth.
“You can’t alert anyone to you!” he warns. “Otherwise, you’ll get pulled onto the ship. We have to go.”
You can’t stop worrying about Landera. Has she been tasked to help crew the ship? Knowing what you know of her secret, will she be okay? Iker pulls you further and further away, but your thoughts remain fixated on what might happen to her.
Eventually, you make it through the dense crowd and reach a clearing. Just a few steps ahead, the site Ulloa designated for your people’s campsite comes into view. Tools and belongings are strewn about like poorly sewn seeds. The tents are haphazardly constructed, with not enough time given to set them up correctly before the commotion occurred.
“I’ve got to go back and find Landera,” you tell Iker. When he looks at you with a raised eyebrow, you quickly correct yourself. “Err, Lander. He might be pulled back onto that crew, and who knows what will happen then.” You hope he hadn’t noticed your slip-up.
Iker looks at you curiously. “But he’s an excellent sailor, from all accounts. Wouldn’t that be wise, to have Lander rejoin the crew? To ensure they all make it back in four months?”
“Four months is impossible!” you remark. “You heard Criato. That’s not even as long as it took us to arrive here! The Great Xiatli might have everyone on board killed if they don’t return quick enough for His liking.”
“Why are you so worried about Lander?” he asks with suspicion. “You only just met him on the ship.”
You’re taken aback by Iker’s inquiry. “Because he’s a friend,” you answer incredulously. Why should he care who you befriend? What is it to him that you’re concerned for a friend?
You’re about to confront him about this when members of your group, those settlers from Aitzabal, slowly trickle in. They look worn down, defeated. Feet are dragged, shoulders slouched. It’s as if they’re returning from a long, arduous journey, not a short distance from the center of the settlement.
You try to get an answer from someone, anyone, flailing your arms and calling out to the others to get their attention. They’re too lost in their thoughts to notice you. What new development occurred in the short time you and Iker were away? Is everyone being sent back to Legido with Captain Lema? Are you all being forced to return to your homeland?
Eventually—finally—you’re able to grab the shoulders of a young woman whose gaze is blank as she stares at the ground. She doesn’t really look at you when you speak, as her attention seems to be off in the distant somewhere beyond these lands. Her weathered faced looks as if she’s worked tirelessly under the sun without a moment’s rest.
“Our Sapa has spoken,” she says faintly, sounding in disbelief. When you ask her to tell you what He said, she looks as if she’s about to break down and cry. “We must leave. But we just got here.”
Can this be? You’re on the move again? Are you not, in fact, welcomed here? The questions swirl in your mind, and you don’t know what’s been commanded of you all.
“He said…” she swallows hard and fights back the tears. “He said we must leave at dawn.”
“Who must leave? Just us?” Iker questions. “Where are we to go?”
The woman bursts into fits of crying, clasping her head in her hands. Between sobs, she mumbles, “All of us. Everyone in Xiatlidar. And we’re to head further north, into the mountains.”