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The room may be silent, but my mind is consumed with ancient whispers and looming storms. The particles of dust dance around my sparsely furnished room, catching the rays of the setting evening sun that causes them to appear like twinkling stars or fireflies. I stand still inside my home, cradling the wooden chest in my arms, and stare at the place on the floor where I’ve been storing it. Did I just reveal my ulterior plans to a relative stranger? What encouraged me to do so? Will this possible lapse in judgement come back to haunt me later? It’s too soon to determine if I’ve made a grave mistake, but the thought crosses my mind as I think of the trials ahead.

Navigating the perils and pitfalls of the council was no easy feat, and being honest, I wasn’t certain I would be able to convince them of the real threat at our gates, the Eye in the Flame. The fortune of having three outsiders arrive just in time is enough to make me consider thanking and worshipping the Eleven as many do in our land. Yet, no matter how difficult it was to gain the support of the council, taking on the cult is an entirely different beast altogether. With their influence likely spread throughout Pachil, they will be an imposing and daunting challenge.

It’s this significant presence already in our land that is the most concerning. How they’ve been able to amass such a large following, and to do so this quickly, is terrifying, especially as the surviving factions work to rebuild their forces. These cultists could catch us unprepared, unable to stop their sheer numbers. I’m relieved that the Tuatiu were able to hold them off as well as they did, but they’re vulnerable to a second attack, like the aftershock following a quake. While I lament the potential losses the Qantua could suffer in our pursuit to defeat this evil, I can only accept sending them to fight because I know firsthand of this immediate threat.

But beyond all of this, I’m floored by the realization that the Tuatiu warrior who rescued me has somehow appeared in my homeland. Is this the work of my sister, Entilqan, gently guiding Inuxeq to Hilaqta with her hand from the beyond? Revisiting my inner dilemma about whether to inform Inuxeq of the journey Upachu and I undertook, I'm swayed perhaps by the fact that she saved my life. Her determination to thwart the malevolent cult seems equal, if not greater, to ours, compelling me to share our mission with her. I only hope that I don’t live to regret my decision. Yet there's something about her—a certain confidence and resolve—that convinces me of her trustworthiness. She embodies the essence of a true leader, one who will confront challenges directly and fiercely oppose the enemy.

With the sun now slipping behind the nearby buildings, the lone torch casts long shadows throughout the room that flicker along the walls. I’m engulfed in the orange glow as the cool of the incoming night brushes my skin. There’s a stillness, a quiet tranquility, yet I find myself unsettled by the silence. I feel lost among my dimly lit surroundings, isolated from everyone and everything in Hilaqta. I’ve spent countless time alone in this home, but why do I suddenly feel as if I’m not?

The heft of the wooden chest finally becomes a bit much to bear, so I walk to the space at the back of the room where I’ve stored this large case since returning home. No sooner than when I set the box down, my fingers having barely left the surface, the room goes almost entirely pitch black. Was this caused by the wind blowing out my torch? As I contemplate whether or not I felt any gusts, a soft, chilling voice calls out from the darkness.

“You hold what belongs to the Eye in the Flame.”

Instinctively, I spin around, crouching low into a defensive stance. From the doorway, I can barely make out the outline of a short, hooded figure whose cape flutters in the slight breeze as they stand. The person remains motionless, and I quickly scan my surroundings to locate any of my weapons nearby, though the endeavor is fruitless within the deep black of the room.

Before I can react, my eyes pick up the faint silhouette of a dagger whizzing through the air. I flinch, having only enough time to tilt my head and narrowly avoid getting pierced. I hear a clack as the blade glances off the stone wall and falls with a muted thud onto the ground. Apparently, this person is not here to be diplomatic.

In the faint, remaining light, I catch the glint of a second dagger, held tightly in my assailant’s hand as they step out from the shadows and into my home. Although dim, torchlight slowly returns to the room, though the hooded figure remains largely concealed. It appears a dark smoke or fog begins to lift, and I see the attacker’s eyes, a piercing green, which are cold and focused on me. They walk slowly, almost casually, toward me, radiating confidence with each step. That they mention the Eye in the Flame is extremely alarming, knowing their presence has reached Hilaqta and threatens my people.

“While I would prefer to have done this uncontested, I am pleased you have decided to put up a little fight.” Their voice is almost sultry, somehow speaking the stilted words like a purr, as though they take an extraordinary amount of pleasure in committing such violence. In a heartbeat, the figure flashes in and out of the shadows as they dart toward me. I hardly have a moment to react as they bring down the dagger upon me, slashing backhanded across my chest. Their blade barely catches me as the jagged volcanic glass rips through my upper torso. They swing a right hook with the blade trailing behind their fist, a distinction of the Ulxa method of fighting, and I stagger backwards, crashing into my table. Their attacks are relentless, swiping left-right-left at me with wildly swinging limbs and forcing me to step back and retreat.

In an effort to keep from falling on my back, my hand finds a chair, and I’m barely able to hold myself up. I regain my footing, then, crouching low, I swing the chair around, crashing it into my assailant’s body with a loud smack. It begins to crumble to pieces, and I grab one of the broken legs to use as a club, pummeling my attacker with blow after blow. They let out a muted whimper before slashing my ankle, which causes me to step back and away from any additional strikes.

When the attacker stands, their hood is momentarily removed, revealing a woman, her green almond-shaped eyes glaring at me as her mouth contorts into a snarl. With her long, black hair tied up into two buns, I can see, trailing down one side of her oval face, are cerulean blue tattoos, starting from the temple, going around the eye, along her prominent cheekbones, and ending at the chin. I’ve never seen a warrior with such markings, and I fear what they may suggest.

Letting out a loud cry, she kicks forward and slams her leather sandal into my stomach with an otherworldly force that launches me back. She casually spins the dagger around with her fingers, then, gritting her teeth, she thrusts the blade forward, almost catching my shoulder. She attempts this twice more, maneuvering around my ill-fated efforts to parry. I try to back away and swat at her forearms, but she avoids my hands and continues toward me until I’m nearly outside my door.

“I do love a challenge, but you are merely prolonging the inevitable,” she says, her mouth sliding into a smirk. It’s in this moment when we both realize she stands between me and the chest she’s after. Our eyes exchange a glance before we both sprint toward the prized possession. I leap forward, my body parallel to the ground, and just manage to wrap my hand around her ankle, tripping her and momentarily halting her progress. As I launched myself, pain shoots up my leg from my forgotten knife wound, and I wince as we both land with a thwump, sliding into the room. She crashes into my table, knocking it over as they both take a tumble.

As I slowly lift myself up, the assassin quickly rolls away and rises to her feet, now holding both daggers in her hands as she somehow, unfathomably, retrieved the one she threw. She squares up, ready to continue the fight, and I spot a flicker of light tauntingly illuminating my glaive behind her. It’s too long for such a small room, but I’m reminded that I may have a sword lying near it. If only I can reach it without leaving myself vulnerable to her attacks.

She charges, swinging one dagger after the other in viciously precise swipes. I dodge and weave as the blades get dangerously close to meeting their target. In a brief moment of chance, she makes one errant attempt, punching forward with the knife and allowing me to block it with my backhand. The hard strike loosens her grip on the blade slightly, and I swing my forearm again, jostling the dagger free from her hand. With her attack stopped, I land a cross into her slender, pointed noise. Though blood begins to trickle to her lip, the blow doesn’t deter her. She swoops her other arm, swiftly bringing the blade around and forcing me to hurriedly duck out of the way. She makes one more slash downward, causing me to step back and provide just enough room for her to retrieve her dagger once again.

It’s been too difficult to predict her attacks, as they’re appearing from all angles, and she’s kept me on the defensive during the entire engagement thus far. To turn the tables, I literally turn my fallen table, spinning it around to obstruct her path toward me as I fling it in her direction. She holds out her foot to prevent it from colliding into her, giving me just enough time to rush over to the chest and shield it from her efforts to obtain it.

“You might be a formidable warrior,” she says between panting breaths that make her speech more disjointed than usual, “but I have always had a way of getting what I want.”

With daggers in hand, she reaches into a pouch tied to the belt at her waist. Before I can register what she’s doing, she pulls out a pinch of a dark, powdery substance between her fingers. After bringing her hand to her pursed lips, she flicks the particles into the air and blows, creating a pitch black cloud that swirls and fills the entire room with darkness. Is this what she used earlier? Despite my vision being compromised, I crouch down to the chest, clenching it firmly in my grasp. I'm determined to safeguard it, intent on thwarting her attempts to snatch it away from me.

Fearing the possibility of her slashing me with her daggers, I drag myself and the chest out of the room, sliding backward until my back thumps into the wall. A slight breeze grazes the top of my head as I barely escape her swooping strikes. Extending one arm out into the darkness, I feel around the walls until my hand finds the entrance to my home. I scurry across the ground, chest in tow, until I reach the streets outside. At first, my eyes have difficulty adjusting to the outdoor light, but eventually I can see that the sun has nearly set below the horizon, turning the surrounding stone buildings into blue manmade mountains.

Behind me, footsteps creep closer, unhurried, as if savoring the anticipation of their forthcoming schemes. From my position on the ground, I look up to see the assailant lean against the frame of my entryway with a sinister smile as she casually clutches her daggers. With the inky black smoke billowing around her, I notice her dark, intricate leather cuirass adorned with jade and turquoise beads worn behind the black cape, and there are straps on her sandals that wrap around her calves, ensuring she moves with a lethal stealthiness.

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“That was an enjoyable dance,” she says with a hiss, “but the time has come to put an end to this charade. Give me what I am after!” Her voice turns to a growl and she coils back, ready to pounce. Just then, an arrow whooshes through the air and pings off the stone, toppling to the ground between me and the assassin.

“You’re correct,” Inuxeq says. “This charade should be put to an end.” The attacker and I turn to look at the Tuatiu warrior, who has another arrow nocked and ready, string pulled back taut. “The next arrow won’t miss.”

“I must admit, I did not expect this encounter to be so entertaining,” the assassin says. “A delightful surprise before I claim my prize.”

“You find joy in such darkness?” Inuxeq replies, her voice laced with scorn. “A coward’s pleasure. Know this: your hunt ends here, and not with the spoils you desire.”

“Coward? I am the shadow that moves with purpose,” the Ulxa attacker sneers, her eyes narrowing. “Silencing the elder was a mere whisper of my resolve. Though his home yielded nothing, it now echoes of inevitability. What you possess belongs to the flame, and I am but its humble gatherer.”

Her words are enigmatic and confusing, but it takes me a moment before I realize… Does she speak of Upachu? Has she been to his home before making her way to mine? Is he safe? Are the clay pots from Wichanaqta safe?

“Inuxeq! The pouch!” It’s all I manage to yell as the assassin quickly reaches into her pouch once again to pull out more of the black powder. Inuxeq fires her arrow straight at the attacker, who blows another dark puff of smoke from her fingers, engulfing her in more of the inky black shadow. Did Inuxeq’s arrow hit the target? Was she able to put down the assailant?

My questions are answered as I receive a swift kick to my face by the Ulxa warrior’s dark leather sandal. I clutch the chest and secure it against my body. I look around for my attacker, only to see the black smoke curling and twisting in the air. Has she become a shadow, transforming into this vapor that swirls among us?

Inuxeq fires another arrow at the smoke, then inspects her work, staring intently at it with the hopes of landing a shot. She begins placing her bow into the harness at her back when a blur launches out of the billowing smoke and strikes the Tuatiu warrior with a flying kick to her stomach. She lurches back, her ornate bow tumbling to the ground before it could be secured, and she grabs at her abdomen. While hunched over, the attacker immediately follows her strike to the torso with a hard punch to the face. Inuxeq staggers to her right side, her jaw marked with a straight red line. As she brings her arm back to strike again, I notice a metallic bar across the knuckles of the assassin’s right fist. Setting the chest down, I grimace as I force myself up to my feet and lunge at the caped assailant, grasping at her hand and forearm to throw off her attempted attack.

The Ulxa warrior twists to punch, but her body is contorted back as a result of being halted. She attempts to backhand me, dagger in hand, but before she can land the blow, I sweep my foot to take out her legs. She’s thrown off-balance, stumbling to the ground and onto her back. A sharp pain jolts through my hand, and blood trickles down my arm. In my attempt to impede her strike on Inuxeq, I must’ve grabbed the blade and sliced my palm.

I shake it off, concentrating on capturing this caped killer. I grab her wrist and slam her hand again and again and again against the ground, trying once more to loose the dagger from her grasp. Out of the corner of my eye, a blur comes hurtling toward me. I roll onto my side, narrowly dodging the swipe of her dagger with her free hand. The glassy black tip pierces the nearby dirt, then swooshes up to try and catch my exposed face. I have to roll again to move out of the way, causing me to let go of her arm. With one motion, kicking up and outward, the assassin launches herself up off her back and onto her feet.

As the attacker regains her balance, Inuxeq is there to meet her, a dagger of her own in hand. With an overhand motion, she brings her blade down, swooping from overhead. The assassin catches the inside of the forearm and flings the incoming strike to the side. With Inuxeq’s blade out of the way, she takes a step and thrusts forward, trying to hit the Tuatiu warrior in the stomach. Inuxeq steps back, then counters with a horizontal swipe at her assailant’s head. The attacker ducks below it, then rams her shoulder into Inuxeq, knocking her backward.

I pull myself up and try to aid Inuxeq in the fight. From behind her, I land a kick on the attacker’s lower back. She flings forward, but catches herself before dropping to the ground. Adjusting her balance, she kicks at me from her side. I catch her heel with my right arm, tensing my muscles to grasp it tightly. Before I’m able to punch with my left fist while she’s vulnerable, she hops forward, bending her knee, and wraps her arms around my neck. With her shin pressed into my abdomen, she flings herself forward, using her momentum to flip us both onto the ground. My face plants into the dirt and she easily picks herself up.

As I lay on the ground, I reach both hands for my neck, feeling the sting of the blades that sliced across it. Entilqan must be watching over me, as the cuts on either side of my throat are mere nicks and nothing more severe. I curse at myself for being so careless, and dust myself off as I scan the area for the chest’s location, which thankfully remains nearby, untouched.

The attacker is crouched low, bracing for Inuxeq’s incoming strikes. The Tuatiu maneuvers to get in close, twirling around and avoiding the Ulxa warrior’s lunging attempts with her blades. Inuxeq lands a spinning kick, then follows it by thrusting her dagger down. It barely grazes the assassin’s head, stopped just short by the killer’s forearm that blocks the full weight of the blow. With her left, the assailant swings a cross, the obsidian blade trailing behind as per the technique, but can only land a fist to Inuxeq’s torso as the knife fails to follow through.

With her attention on Inuxeq, I slam my knee into the attacker’s side. She cringes at the pain, then rolls away from my follow-up kick.

“This is not over between us, you impure vermin!” she snarls, then dashes away down the vacant street.

“We must hurry after her!” Inuxeq’s voice cuts through the air, urgent and commanding. Her expression is etched with intensity and resolve. “She can’t be allowed to escape!”

The Tuatiu warrior chases after the assailant, charging down the street. The assassin swiftly turns a corner, and I lose sight of her after her trailing cape vanishes behind the buildings. Inuxeq sprints behind the attacker, but as she arrives at the intersection and turns, she stops immediately, then leaps off to the side. Curious as to what caused this, I spring to my feet, grab the wooden chest, and start down the street toward her. She’s slow to get up, looking on into the alley with astonishment.

“What happened?” I ask, nervous that the assassin may have used more trickery to trip up our pursuit.

Catching her breath, Inuxeq says, “She sprung a dart at me as soon as I cleared the corner, then vanished into yet another one of those smoke clouds, that coward.” She’s prepared to continue the chase, but I hold her back by a shoulder while struggling to carry the chest in my other arm.

“We protected the chest, which is all that matters here,” I say. “But we need to check on Upachu and make sure no harm has come to him.”

With a nod, Inuxeq’s focus returns to the matter at hand: the safety of our companion in the fight against these cultists. Using my head, I point in the direction we need to go, and we rush toward the elder’s home. My heart is stricken with panic as I recall the assassin’s words. Silencing the elder was a mere whisper of my resolve. What could she mean? I fear the worst, and hope she was merely taunting us, toying with my emotions.

Twilight wraps the city in its cool embrace as Inuxeq and I dart through Hilaqta's winding streets, a maze of dust and creeping shadows. Stone houses loom on either side, clinging defiantly to the slopes of the Qantua hills. Carved stairways interrupt the paths, spiraling upwards to terraces etched against the night sky.

The streets are like narrow streams of beaten earth, coursing through the heart of this place. With every breath, I feel the city's pulse, a rhythm set to the pounding of our feet and the quickening beat of urgency. Or, perhaps, it’s my own heart that quickens, driving me forward with resolution and determination to reach Upachu and ensure he is safe.

The Great Library towers above the nearby residences as we reach the street of Upachu’s home. To my surprise and relief, the cart and the llama remain outside his house and appear undisturbed. The animal maintains its indifference, seemingly more perturbed by our hastened approach than by any prior disturbance to its tranquil day. Inuxeq’s posture is guarded and tense as she inspects the scene for any sign of the assassin’s presence. After a pause, she exchanges a glance with me and nods to confirm the area is clear.

The scene inside Upachu’s home is a stark difference to the stillness outside. My heart leaps into my throat as I observe how all of his furniture has been overturned in a clear sign of a scuffle. Inuxeq finds an extinguished torch on the ground and attempts to light it. I call out for him, but there’s no response. I call out again and again, growing more desperate as I’m met, each time, with silence.

She couldn’t have, I think to myself. She couldn’t have…

Pushing and kicking aside his belongings, I force my way through the disarray left by a frenzied search or struggle. Having finally lit the torch, Inuxeq joins me as we move toward the back of the home where another room containing his bedroll should be. More clutter is scattered about, but eventually, we reach an isolated, pitch black room.

“There!” Inuxeq shouts, pointing to the far corner. With only a trace of torchlight illuminating him, Upachu lies on the ground, clutching his chest. I run over to him, lifting him upright and resting his back and head against the wall. Even in the low light, I can see his robes soaked with a sticky, dark liquid. As I investigate my hands, they’re coated in an unmistakable blood red. Upachu’s eyes remain closed, his breathing labored, but he’s somehow remained alive after his encounter.

“Di-,” Upachu struggles to speak, his voice is a wheeze. “Did she get the bales of hay?” So the attacker was here, much to my dismay.

“I haven’t confirmed, but the cart and the llama appear untouched,” I answer. As I speak to him, I inspect his wounds and see a deep stab wound to his chest, blood pooling around his pectoral muscle and robe.

“Inuxeq,” I command, “Stay with him while I go to the cart to retrieve the pots.”

“Shouldn’t we get him a healer?” she asks, confused at my planned course of action.

“We might be able to heal him here and now,” I say, and I run outside to the cart. The llama seems disgruntled by my hurried movements, yet I take no notice and proceed to heave the two disguised clay pots, straining as I lift them up due to the water contained within. With much effort, I carry them into the room, perplexing Inuxeq with what’s in my possession. But after clearing some of the hay, I reveal the pot and find a cup.

“What is in those pots?” Inuxeq asks, bewildered by this situation.

“What I believe to be water from a healing spring in Atima,” I answer, gently pouring it into Upachu’s parched mouth. He coughs, and a little trickles down the sides of his chin, but he drinks the soothing liquid. My eyes fixate on his wound, staring intently to monitor if my deduction is correct.

“We have no time for this,” Inuxeq says, but I urge her to be patient just a moment longer.

“These waters healed me from the trials we encountered in Wichanaqta,” I say with an unflattering, crazed tone to my response. “I had fought vicious creatures and became wounded, but these waters healed me, of that I am certain.” Have I gone mad? But this is what happened to me when we were in the Atima palace, I’m certain. This has to work. This has to work.

My eyes are now locked onto the wound in his chest, and I urge it to heal. I can sense Inuxeq growing more and more anxious, but I know this will work; it just requires a little more time.

Exasperated, Inuxeq stands. “This is madness. You’re about to watch your friend die. I’m rushing to get a healer from the Great Library.”

I tell her, plead with her, to wait and let the healing waters work its magic, but she leaves me groveling on the ground, not once looking back.

This has to work, I repeat to myself, like a chant. I know this will work.

He clutches the collar of my tunic and attempts to speak, but no words leave his parted lips.

This has to work.

More blood continues to seep into his robe as Upachu fights harder to breathe.

This has to work.

Have I lost my mind? Have I lost my grasp on reality?

This has to work…

Am I killing my friend?

This isn’t working!

He begins sliding down the wall, unable to support himself. Inuxeq, please hurry.

This isn’t working.

His grip on my clothing slowly begins to loosen. His head droops to one side.

This isn’t working…