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The world tilts beneath me. I feel the ground drop out from under my feet, as if I’ve stepped off the edge of a cliff. Achutli—the man I’ve hated, the man I’ve feared—is gone.
And it shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t feel like this—this knot in my chest, this awful, gaping thing that steals the air from my lungs. But it does. It claws its way through me, leaving nothing but raw, jagged edges in its wake.
I steal a glance toward Taqsame, who remains rooted where he stands, still stunned from Achutli’s death, the death of his foe. His sword arm droops, his expression is a mixture of rage and disbelief.
Xelhua’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, steadying me. His grip is firm, grounding. But it can’t stop the ache.
I try to take in the scene, force it to make sense, but nothing aligns. Achutli, the tyrant, the shadow that loomed over everything I knew, now lies crumpled on the stone like a discarded doll. All his power, his ambition, his dark magic—everything he did to seize this land—extinguished in an instant.
I told myself that I would feel nothing if he died. That if it ever happened, I’d shrug it off like a dull wind passing through an open window. No grief. No regret. And yet, the weight in my chest settles heavier than I imagined. Not sadness exactly—more like the numbness that follows after a venomous sting, when you realize too late how far the poison has spread.
This moment was supposed to change everything. The world should feel lighter. The sky clearer. But it doesn’t. The war rages on, the enemy stands tall, and all the hatred I carried for Achutli now has nowhere to go.
Maybe it’s not even hate anymore. Maybe it’s loss.
He’s gone, and I’m still here. What do I do with that?
The wind shifts, dragging the acrid scent of ash and scorched terrain through the ruined city. Bodies litter the streets in grotesque contortions, armor shattered, arrows buried deep in flesh. Somewhere beyond the smoke and blood, I hear the scrape of obsidian on stone, the whimper of a wounded warrior calling for help that will never come. This city has known nothing but death for far too long.
There is no relief. Only emptiness.
The gods have a cruel sense of humor. The moment you think one nightmare is over, another steps in to take its place.
Xelhua’s hand remains on my shoulder, but I shrug it off. My legs feel brittle, like they’ll shatter beneath me if I try to move. Not now, I tell myself. You cannot fall apart now. I clutch the hilt of Inuxeq’s dagger—not much against sorcery, but it’s all I have.
Taqsame shakes himself free from his shock with a snarl. He raises his sword high, as if he can cleave the very sky apart. “For Qantua!” he cries, his voice echoing off the stone ruins. He rushes toward the sorcerer, his black-and-gold armor glinting in the dim light, like a comet barreling straight at the heart of the enemy.
The sorcerer doesn’t flinch.
There’s no movement. No chant. Just a flick of his wrist. Then, suddenly, the air around Taqsame ripples with unbearable heat. A circle of flames erupts from the ground as numerous deep chasms open up around the palace, encasing him in a spiral of fire. The world bursts into orange and red, as if the very sky has ignited.
For a heartbeat, Taqsame disappears inside the blaze.
I notice I’ve stopped breathing.
But then Taqsame stumbles out of the flames. His armor is charred, his skin is blistered and raw. He drops to one knee, gasping for air. His sword falls from his limp hand and clatters uselessly onto the ground.
He’s alive. Barely. But the fight is already over.
And the sorcerer knows it.
“Is that all?” the sorcerer sneers, amusement curling the edges of his voice. “Is that the best Qantua has to offer?”
Taqsame tries to rise, but his body betrays him. His knees buckle beneath his weight. He glares up at the sorcerer, defiant but broken, like a man staring at the collapse of his own legacy.
A pulse of heat erupts from the sorcerer’s body, an invisible wave that slams into Taqsame like a wall. He’s hurled backward, limbs flailing as he crashes into the stone with a sickening smack.
He groans, struggling to rise, but the sorcerer is already swiftly moving. Before Taqsame can regain his footing, a tendril of fire coils around his legs, tying him to the ground. He looses a brief howl as his free hand scrabbles at the burning rope of flame searing into his flesh.
From the shadows, the grotesque creatures emerge—those awful gray beasts with glowing sapphire eyes. Their hulking forms ripple with bulging, unnatural muscles that jut out in odd places from their arms and legs. Their claws scrape against the stone as they lumber toward us.
Taqsame pats the ground, his hand desperately searching for his dropped sword. He clumsily tries to fight against the flames that bind him, trying to stand and mount an attack against this all too powerful sorcerer. In his struggle, he flops about like a fish on dry land, hoping to find something, anything, to continue his hapless battle against this evil wrapped in blood-red robes. I know he’s not strong enough to face this. Yet he persists, defiantly. Arrogantly. Ignorantly.
I grip the dagger tighter, the hilt slick with sweat. “We can’t just leave him.”
Xelhua glances at me. “If we stay, we’ll die, child.”
The gray beasts close in, their eyes fixed on Taqsame. One of them lets out a guttural growl, its fangs bared as it lunges toward him. Taqsame’s hand barely manages to clasp the hilt of his sword and raises it just in time to put up a defense. But his movements are slow and sluggish, like a man fighting in muddy waters. The beast crashes into him, knocking him to the ground with a revolting thud.
The sorcerer chuckles—a sound like dry leaves rasping against stone. He lifts his hand again, and the tendril of flame snakes toward Taqsame once more. The Qantua warrior doesn’t move, doesn’t resist. For a brief, agonizing moment, I think this is it—this is how he’ll die.
But then the sound comes.
A low and mournful horn blares across the battlefield, cutting through the chaos. I’ve heard this sound before. It’s the signal of the Qantua warriors. Praise the Eleven—Inuxeq’s army is here!
The ground beneath us trembles as the Qantua charge from the ruins, their war cries filling the air. They move as one, a surge of black and gold, clashing against the remnants of the Eye in the Flame like waves crashing against a crumbling shore.
The gray beasts lurch forward to meet them, their glowing sapphire eyes narrowing on their quarry. Their movements are wrong—jerky, yet impossibly fast, like they’re being tugged by invisible strings. One of the creatures lunges, swiping its massive claws through the air. The blow lands with a wet crunch, splitting flesh and shattering bone as though the warrior were made of nothing more than wet clay. Blood sprays in a crimson arc, painting the beast’s matted hide as it pulls its claws free, strings of viscera clinging to its talons. The warrior doesn’t even have time to scream—he crumples to the ground, lifeless, his mangled chest caved inward like a smashed fruit.
A shout rises from the ranks, rallying others forward. I squint through the calamity and realize that Taqsame’s warriors, the Qantua who followed him so loyally, have not deserted the fight. They surge from the far side of the ruins, adding their strength to Inuxeq’s forces. They fall into step, shoulder to shoulder with their brothers and sisters. They merge into a single line, one unified Qantua force, as they crash against the cultists and these horrific, unnatural gray creatures.
Inuxeq’s first arrow is loosed before she even reaches the fray. It flies true, hitting a cultist draped in red. He stumbles, clutching his throat as blood spatters across the broken stones. But she doesn’t stop to watch him fall. She’s already nocked a second arrow, her movements fluid and deadly, as natural to her as breathing. One after another, her arrows fly. A figure falls, then another—each merciless shot leaving only gasping, crumpled bodies in their wake.
Xelhua moves like a storm unleashed. Gray-robed figures rush toward us, their faces twisted with fanatical rage. But Xelhua is a wall of unrelenting force. He pivots sharply, his blade catching one attacker in the chest before whirling to block another’s strike. I barely have time to register the brutal efficiency of his movements—every swing, every step calculated to keep them away from me. The cultists hesitate for only a heartbeat, but it's enough to see the fear in their eyes.
With this, Xelhua pounces. One after another, he twists and and shifts, slashing the nearly dozen or so robed figures and dispatching them with practiced ease. They flail desperately, trying to find some way to slow down this valiant warrior. But every effort is futile. In just a few quick movements, Xelhua has taken them all down.
The warriors around her swing their obsidian blades, ferociously clashing against the gray-robed cultists. For a moment, the balance shifts. I can see it. The Qantua are pressing forward, gaining ground, pushing the cultists back.
But then one of the gray beasts steps into their path. It’s massive, towering over the warriors by a head, its muscles flexed and rolled under the sickly blue-gray skin. A Qantua warrior rushes it, sword raised high, but the beast swipes him aside as if he were nothing more than a fly. His body crumples against the stones, unmoving.
Inuxeq raises her bow once more, aiming at the creature that now lumbers toward her. Cooly, she releases an arrow. It strikes the beast square in the chest, but shatters uselessly against its twisted, unnatural flesh. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t waver. Without missing a beat, she pulls a small vial from her belt, pouring its contents along her next arrow. She lights the tip with a quick flick of her flint and steel before launching it, a streak of flames seemingly trailing behind.
The arrow strikes the beast’s shoulder, igniting a small patch of flesh. Pride washes over Inuxeq’s face as she awaits the monster’s inevitable fall. But the creature merely stumbles back a step as the flame flickers, then dies.
“Well, that’s not a good sign,” Inuxeq remarks, scowling.
The gray beasts roar in unison, and the ground beneath our feet quakes. One of them lunges, covering an impossible distance in a single bound. It plows into a line of Qantua warriors, claws tearing through armor and flesh. Two warriors go down instantly, their cries of pain swallowed by the beast’s furious growls.
With its attention fixed back on Inuxeq, another beast charges straight at her. Its claws scrape against the stone as it barrels forward. In a flash, she vanishes, and the creature swipes at air. She then reappears a few steps away, having somehow dodged the strike. Hurriedly, she retrieves a dagger sheathed at her hip and slices at it with a quick slash. The blade barely cuts into its tough, grayish skin, leaving only a faint line where blood should be. The creature’s face twists in rage, and it swings one massive arm toward her. She leaps back, narrowly avoiding its deadly reach.
Inuxeq looses another arrow, hitting the beast squarely in its shoulder, but it only snarls and rushes forward, undeterred. She curses under her breath, fingers fumbling to nock another arrow, but her gaze shifts to the Qantua warriors at her flank. The line they’re holding is buckling under the sheer weight of cultists and the relentless, hulking gray beasts pressing in.
“Fall back to the second line!” she shouts to her warriors, her voice carrying over the clash of weapons and the guttural roars of the beasts. “Give yourselves room to strike!”
The Qantua hesitate, then slowly yield ground. They draw back in a controlled retreat as they angle their shields to deflect the worst of the cultists’ blows. Inuxeq looses another arrow at a charging beast, but as it strikes its chest, the monster barely even slows. She steps back, breathing hard, realizing just how little their weapons seem to matter against this enemy.
But even as she pulls back her bowstring to release another arrow, the gray beast lunges at her, claws slashing through the air toward her throat. She pivots, narrowly dodging, feeling the rush of wind as its claws swipe past her face. In one motion, she steps back, steadies her aim, and releases. The arrow flies—a perfect strike, sinking deep into the creature’s eye. The beast rears back with a furious howl, but the wound only seems to ignite its fury.
Behind her, I see the Qantua forming a defensive line, their shields and obsidian blades at the ready, as they attempt to press back against the cultists who come at them in endless waves. Some warriors are dragged down by the cultists, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Yet others hold their ground, fending off the attackers with relentless, brutal efforts. But every small gain costs blood, and it’s clear that the warriors are struggling to hold the line.
Inuxeq lets out a frustrated exhale and pulls back to join Xelhua and me. The beasts are something otherworldly, defying all the tactics that have worked before. She locks eyes with Xelhua, and in that brief, brutal moment, they share a raw, wordless exchange between them—the kind that only surfaces when you’re not sure you’ll survive.
“Is there no way to kill these things?” Xelhua roars, wildly swinging his sword as he fends off another beast.
“If there is, we’ll find it,” Inuxeq declares. She casts a quick glance at me, a silent command to stay back, to let them handle this. I don’t argue. There’s nothing I can do against monsters like these, nothing but get in their way.
And then, cutting through the chaos like a hot knife, comes a sharp, vaguely familiar voice: “Keeping my daggers warm for me, I see.”
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The words freeze her mid-motion, her arrow poised but not released. Her gaze snaps to the source of the voice, and there he is, striding toward them from the haze of battle like he owns the place. Blood streaks his face and arms, his crimson-and-black armor scratched and battered. But Mexqutli’s expression is one of calm, as though he hasn’t been in the midst of an intense battle.
“Of all the times,” Inuxeq mutters under her breath, lowering her bow. The beast before her growls, forgotten for the moment.
Mexqutli doesn’t wait for a warm welcome—or any welcome, really. He sprints past her with startling speed, ducking under a lunging beast and slashing upward in a single, fluid motion. His blade bites deep into its underbelly, and with a guttural howl, the creature collapses into a heap.
Another beast charges toward him from the side, but Mexqutli pivots gracefully, driving his sword into its neck with a savage efficiency. He pulls the blade free in one smooth motion, the black edge glinting as he spins to face the next foe.
“Are you just going to stand there gawking, or do you plan to help?” he shouts, not breaking stride as he slashes through another cultist.
Inuxeq glares at him, but her bowstring hums as she releases an arrow, striking a cultist advancing on his flank. “You have a lot to answer for, Mexqutli,” she snaps.
“Add it to the list,” he retorts, his obsidian blade arcing through the air to decapitate another cultist. He spares her a quick glance, his eyes flashing to the dagger in my clutches. “Now, about my daggers…”
“Not a chance,” Inuxeq growls, her arrow already nocked and aimed at another target.
Mexqutli raises a brow, looking genuinely offended. “They are mine, Tuatiu.”
“They’re mine now,” she bites back, loosing her arrow. It strikes true, felling a cultist mid-charge. “You lost your claim when you vanished into the night.”
“You wound me,” he quips as he cleaves through another enemy.
Xelhua steps forward, his massive frame tense as his eyes lock onto Mexqutli. “Who is this… traitor?” he growls.
Mexqutli turns to him, and he notices the turquoise feathers of Xelhua’s helmet and the long, flowing achiote cape. “Another Iqsuwa, I see,” he says, his tone clipped. “But I do not remember inviting you to this dance.”
Xelhua’s grip tightens on his sword. “You wear the colors of the Timuaq. Explain yourself.”
“Later,” Mexqutli says dismissively, already moving toward another cultist. “Right now, I am busy saving your hide.”
Inuxeq hurriedly steps between them with her dagger in hand. “Mexqutli, you’re here. Great. Now fight. Xelhua, leave the accusations for when we’re not being torn apart by monsters and cultists.”
Begrudgingly, the two warriors turn their attention back to the battlefield. Mexqutli charges ahead, his blade ferociously cutting down another cultist. A smirk creases the corner of his mouth, until he notices the beasts rising off the ground, appearing unfazed by his recent attacks.
“What is…” Mexqutli is too stunned to finish his thought, staring at the creatures with his mouth agape in awe.
As the cultists press in, Mexqutli plants himself firmly at the front line. Each strike of his sword is swift, each kill clean and final. He moves like a man with nothing to lose, and the cultists fall back, hesitant to engage him directly.
Mexqutli glances over his shoulder at Inuxeq, a cocky grin on his bloodied face. “Nowmay I have my daggers?” he calls out again.
Inuxeq narrows her eyes and lifts her bow. “You’ll get them back when you earn them.” She watches him with scorn, wrestling with conflicted feelings that are a tangled knot of anger, relief, and something she refuses to name. For now, she pushes it aside and focuses on the battle. There will be time for answers later.
Mexqutli chuckles, his blade slicing through another cultist. “Challenge accepted.”
The battlefield shifts, the tide turning ever so slightly with Mexqutli’s arrival. But even with his skill, the fight is far from over. The sorcerer watches from a distance, his golden eyes narrowing as he begins to weave his next spell, the air around him growing hotter and heavier.
Mexqutli pauses, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. His gaze locks onto the sorcerer, and for a moment, his usual bravado fades, replaced by something sharper, more focused. He tightens his grip on his blade, his posture shifting as he prepares to face the next enemy.
It’s difficult for me to discern what Mexqutli mutters to himself, but it sounds something like, “Sunfire…”
The sorcerer in crimson watches with cold amusement, his arms folded across his chest, as if this is all a game to him. The flames reflect in his eyes, turning them into pools of molten gold.
And then I see it—the amulet around his neck. It glows faintly, pulsing with a dark, ominous light. The amulet… the power…
Something inside me stirs, some moment of recognition. The amulet. It’s just like the one worn by Inuxeq, who possesses such otherworldly power.
Without thinking, I step forward. “The amulet!” I shout, my voice breaking through the mayhem. “That’s what he’s using!”
Xelhua’s eyes narrow. “What on Pachil are you talking about, child?”
“The amulet—he’s drawing his power from it. We need to take it from him.”
Xelhua looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Perhaps I have. “And how do you suggest we do that?”
I don’t have an answer. I don’t know how we’ll manage it. But I know one thing for sure: if we don’t stop him, if we don’t take that amulet, we’ll all die here.
The world shudders around me, the sound of clashing metal and distant screams swallowed by the smothering heat. The sorcerer in crimson stands firmly in place, his form wreathed in a dark, undulating shimmer. He watches us—no, he watches me, his gaze pulling me in like a tether, as if he’s already decided something about me that I haven’t realized yet.
A quick burst of movement—Xelhua pulls me back from the edge of my thoughts. His hand is firm on my shoulder, but his grip slackens as his attention shifts to the monstrous gray beasts pushing through the Qantua ranks. One of the creatures, with those gleaming sapphire eyes, fixes on him, each step a weighted tremor in the land.
Somewhere, Taqsame stirs on the ground, defying the flames scorching his flesh. His movements are labored, his fingers twitching around the hilt of his fallen blade. He hasn’t registered the hopelessness of his fight—not yet.
Inuxeq materializes at my side, silent in a cold fury with her bow raised. She knows. They all know. There’s no grand strategy here, no neat path to victory—just an instinctual, desperate drive to survive. Her gaze shifts past me, over my shoulder. She doesn’t need to speak; I follow her eyes to the amulet glinting against the sorcerer’s chest, its light pulsing like a second heartbeat.
Something inside me stirs—a strange, distant echo that feels less like a thought and more like a memory I’d rather not recall. I can feel it drawing me closer, that gem nestled against his robes, thrumming with the same dark energy I’ve seen touch Inuxeq, touch the coral amulet she carries.
The beasts advance, their monstrous forms soaking in the blood that stains the ground. They are relentless, half-seeing, unyielding, tearing into Qantua warriors as though their lives are inconsequential. The sorcerer’s fingers twitch against the amulet, and for a fraction of a second, his gaze drifts away.
My hand tightens around the dagger’s hilt, though I can’t say what I plan to do. I only know I have to get close, closer than anyone here could imagine. I feel Xelhua shift beside me, his breath harsh and shallow. His gaze lands on the sorcerer, follows the curve of his hand to the amulet, and a flicker of understanding passes over his face.
A beat. Inuxeq meets my eyes, the grim line of her mouth telling me all I need to know. There are no words exchanged, no pointed glances, only a shared understanding as her bow lifts, her arrow notched, aimed, her fingers tense.
And without a sound, she releases.
The sorcerer raises a hand, but his reaction is a heartbeat too slow—the arrow grazes his shoulder, its sharp edge slicing the thick fabric of his robe. A red stain blooms, and for a fleeting instant, his posture falters, his hand lowering ever so slightly.
In that small window of time, Xelhua lunges forward, a blur of motion, his sword angled toward the amulet. The sorcerer snarls, meeting Xelhua’s strike with a slash of fire that arcs through the air, scorching stone and flesh alike. Xelhua staggers back, his face dark with frustration. He steadies himself, but his movements more cautious, like a puma circling prey it knows it can’t easily kill.
One of the beasts lunges at Xelhua. Inuxeq instantly appears out of thin air, intercepting, slashing at the creature’s legs with her dagger. It buys me a precious moment.
My gaze drifts back to the amulet, its light like a beacon against the darkness. I don’t know how, but I can feel it—its power seeping into the space around it, like poison leeching into water. It calls to something in me, something I’ve spent my life refusing to acknowledge. It knows me. And I know it.
The sorcerer’s hand clenches around the amulet. He looks at me, and a faint smile pulls at his lips. He senses my intent as I edge closer, my gaze locked on the amulet. His sneer is smug, like he’s been waiting for this. He raises a hand, summoning a wave of heat so intense the air around him distorts.
“Do you think you can just take this power?” His voice rasps, grating through the din. He raises his hand, summoning a pulse that radiates through the ground beneath us, the stones hissing and cracking.
Inuxeq raises her bow and releases her one more arrow. The sorcerer’s hand twitches, and the arrow disintegrates, nothing but embers before it reaches him. Her lips press tight, her frustration etched across her face, and she reaches for another arrow.
My heart slams against my chest, my breaths coming in shallow bursts as I feel my hand stretching toward the amulet. I feel its presence calling to me, not just some piece of jewelry, but a force—alive and pulsing with power. The amulet thrums, its energy pulling at me, stirring my mind with fragments I can barely grasp. It feels like… destiny.
Xelhua lifts his sword. “Draw him out, Inuxeq. I’ll end this.”
Inuxeq snaps out of her haze and nods. She sidesteps, and her next arrow is aimed at one of the hideous gray beasts that lurches forward. The arrow sinks deep, and the creature lets out a guttural snarl. The sapphire light of its eyes narrow as it locks onto her. The beast lunges, and she disappears once again, vanishing from its reach.
Frustration crosses the sorcerer’s face, just for an instant. It’s subtle, barely a twitch of his mouth, but I catch it. In that moment, I notice that the amulet feels different somehow, like its hold is wavering. Like we might have a chance.
The sorcerer’s hand flares, and a blinding wave of searing fire roars toward me. I stumble back, shielding my face, and Xelhua yanks me to the side. After confirming I’m okay, Xelhua lets me go, then strides toward the sorcerer with his sword ready. The man in crimson watches him, his smirk twisting into something cruel as he raises his hand, flames coiling like living serpents toward Xelhua.
Inuxeq’s voice cuts through the noise. “Focus on the amulet, Haesan!” She releases another arrow, this one aimed for his chest. He swats it aside like a bothersome pest, but I feel it: his focus shifts, just for a heartbeat.
I reach out, my mind brushing against his. It’s like plunging my hand into a seething cauldron. The connection hits me like a blow, a rush of chaos and fury that feels alive, writhing and clawing as if it could drag me under. His thoughts are a dark, roiling sea, currents crashing and churning in directions that defy logic. Ambition festers there like a wound, oozing with a hunger for control so consuming it feels like it could devour the world whole.
And beneath it all, there’s a deeper layer, a shadowed undercurrent I can barely touch before I have to pull back—a chorus of voices, shrill and dissonant, screaming over one another in a maddening cacophony. Some plead, some curse, and others laugh maniacally, their tones twisting into one another like strands of barbed wire. It presses against my mind, suffocating and vile, and I feel the edges of my sanity fray as I brush too close to that abyss. It’s not just ambition or power. It’s fractured, splintered chaos, the mind of someone—or something—that has long since lost its way.
I wrench myself back, my breath catching as nausea twists my stomach. His gaze snaps toward me, his eyes widening in a flash of confusion before narrowing with rage. For a heartbeat, I see it—the jagged edges of his psyche, the madness that has turned his mind into a labyrinth of torment and delusion. And for that fleeting moment, I realize what I touched wasn’t just the mind of a man. It was an untethered and uncontainable storm, feeding on itself with a hunger that would never be satisfied.
Xelhua seizes the moment, closing the distance with a powerful stride. His sword slashes down toward the amulet, but the sorcerer slips aside, the blade missing by a hair. With a snarl, he retaliates, sending an intense blast of heat at Xelhua. He flings back, sprawling across the stone.
Inuxeq doesn’t falter. She pulls another arrow, fingers tightening around the bowstring, intently staring down the amulet, and releases. The arrow is perfect, once again aimed right for his chest.
The amulet pulses, its dark energy radiating outward, and the arrow splinters to dust as it nears him. Inuxeq’s jaw clenches, and she shakes her head in frustration as she nocks yet another arrow. One has to strike, she knows. She hopes.
The amulet presses against my mind, consuming. I steady myself and reach out with my thoughts, focusing all my will on breaking the sorcerer’s hold. His resistance is like oil, slipping through my grasp. But I push harder, pouring every bit of focus I have into the connection.
The sorcerer staggers as he tries to resist. He struggles to steady himself, gnashing his teeth in pain. Seeing this, Inuxeq doesn’t hesitate. She steps forward, draws her bow, and releases—the arrow aimed at the amulet itself.
It hits true, snapping the chain around his neck. The amulet tumbles to the ground, glinting in the firelight. For a brief, breathless moment, everything stills.
The sorcerer’s eyes widen, rage contorting his face as he reaches for the amulet. But my hand darts out, fingers closing around the cool, pulsing metal first. A surge of energy rushes through me, sharp and electric. I gasp, feeling its might and energy settle deep within me.
And in that heartbeat, I feel it. The amulet’s raw and unrestrained power flows into me, sharpening my senses, amplifying my thoughts. I don’t know how I’m doing it, but I can feel the emotions of those around me—fear, anger, resolve—and I draw them in, weaving them into something solid, something I can wield.
The movement of the gray beasts slows, and then they freeze in place. The sapphire light in their eyes flickering like dying flames. I don’t know how long I can hold them, but for now, it’s enough.
“Haesan—whatever you’re doing, don’t stop!” Inuxeq’s voice is faint, but I hear the urgency in it.
The sorcerer’s gaze locks on me, his face contorted with rage, but he doesn’t move, his hand clenched at his side. He knows. He knows he’s lost control, that his power is slipping through his fingers, and I can feel his desperation, thick and rancid in the air.
Suddenly, I hear Inuxeq’s voice crack with disbelief. “Mexqutli?” She stares at him, bow faltering and frozen mid-draw.
“Keep moving!” he barks, even as blood trickles down his arm and splatters onto the scorched stone beneath him. His gaze doesn’t meet hers—his focus is entirely on the sorcerer.
The sorcerer’s eyes narrow, taking in this unexpected arrival with a sneer that twists into something cruel. “And who are you, another llama for the slaughter?”
Mexqutli steps forward, planting himself between the sorcerer and Inuxeq, his blade raised, his battered armor reflecting the hellish glow of the battlefield. “No,” he growls, his voice cutting through the din like the edge of his blade. “I am the jaguar who will rip your throat out.”
With a speed that defies the pain etched across his features, Mexqutli charges. His blade slashes through the air, striking at the sorcerer in a blur of relentless, precise strikes. The sorcerer blocks him with arcs of flame and bursts of raw energy, but Mexqutli is relentless, his movements fueled by sheer will and fury.
“Inuxeq!” he shouts over his shoulder, his voice strained but unyielding. “Take the others and go! Now!”
“No!” she cries, stepping forward. “Not like this! You don’t have to—”
“Go!” Mexqutli roars, silencing her protest. I’m confused by this exchange, but these two appear to have an understanding, and Inuxeq knows something about what Mexqutli is about to do.
The sorcerer’s sneer deepens, and with a sharp twist of his hand, a wave of flame erupts, crashing toward Mexqutli like a tidal wave of molten fury. He doesn’t budge. With a guttural cry, he thrusts his blade forward, slicing through the inferno, the obsidian edge glowing white-hot as it deflects the searing heat.
The sorcerer stumbles, his footing momentarily unsteady. Mexqutli doesn’t miss his chance. He lunges, driving his blade toward the amulet. The sorcerer twists, and the blade sinks into his side instead, blood spilling in dark, steaming rivulets.
“You think this changes anything?” the sorcerer hisses, his voice dripping with venom as he clutches the blade embedded in his flesh. “You’re nothing—a speck of ash beneath my flame.”
Mexqutli’s gaze hardens, and he leans in, his voice low and steady. “Maybe. But even ash can choke the fire.”
With a sudden burst of motion, the sorcerer releases a final, desperate pulse of a fiery energy. It slams into Mexqutli with enough force to send him flying. He crashes into the ground. His body skids across the stone, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
The sorcerer staggers, his hand pressed to his side as he takes ragged breaths. “Is that all?” he snarls, his voice faltering as he turns back toward Inuxeq.
But Mexqutli is already moving. Bloodied and broken, he pulls himself to his feet, his blade missing but his resolve unshaken. He charges again, unarmed but undeterred, his roar echoing like thunder across the battlefield.
This time, he doesn’t aim for the sorcerer. He barrels into him, wrapping his arms around the sorcerer in a crushing grip, dragging him backward toward the edge of the crumbling platform.
“Go!” Mexqutli bellows one last time, his voice a ragged command as he locks eyes with Inuxeq.
Before anyone can react, before the sorcerer can retaliate, Mexqutli throws himself and the sorcerer over the edge of a deep chasm, soaring into the mouth that has opened up from the ground.
The air is filled with a deafening roar as they plummet into the fiery abyss below. We’re all flung backward, thrusted away from the gaping wound in the terrain. I land with a searing pain in my back as I slide along the gravely ground. My hand throbs, and I open my closed fist just enough to see the amulet radiating inside my clutches. The land shakes, the heat intensifies, and then, silence.