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“What do you mean ‘their plan has been set in motion’?”

Inside the dark, sparsely furnished chamber, Texani, Yachaman, and I discuss Onixem’s enigmatic phrase with her. After finding her bruised and beaten, cowering behind sacks of grain, Texani and I took an arm and supported Onixem as we walked to a tucked away hideout in an isolated part of the city. A slight whiff of briny air blends with the dust particles that float about this space. The building is used by the Qente Waila, located near the vast fishermen’s wharf that rests along the inlet that flows out to the Haqu Sunquioq, the large body of water between the Tapeu and Sanqo territories. Its name translates from the old tongue as “Heart Sea” to signify its importance to the people of Pachil. With the docks as busy as they are, we were able to slip in unnoticed, allowing us to have Onixem explain what’s happening without wandering eyes or ears.

Though the room is dimly lit with only two torches, I notice that Onixem appears to be in a daze, with a far away stare as if her thoughts are still fixed on what she witnessed earlier. Yachaman hands her leather water pouch to Onixem, who swiftly drinks it all in one gulp as though she’s been parched for days. We await Onixem’s answer to our inquiry. While Texani shows signs of impatience, I understand that, whatever Onixem witnessed, it must be substantial and traumatic if she’s being silent for this long.

“We were told to investigate unusual activity by the Eye in the Flame,” Onixem eventually says, her voice faint like a spirit. “One of our people reportedly spotted a number of their members assembling in a temple that was heavily damaged during the war. Nobody wanted to rebuild it because it was rumored to be cursed. Something about how it was frequently in ruins due to nefarious affairs taking place within, and that the gods punished anyone who would set foot inside. Fables to scare children, is what I think about that. But many of the nearby residents kept away, so hearing about people gathering in or around the area immediately raised suspicions.

“It was to be done during our scheduled patrol shift, so I thought nothing of the assignment. Perhaps a member of the rivals wasn’t as discrete as they should’ve been and tipped off one of our patrolmen to their whereabouts. So Tziqui and I would head over to the location and check it out, since it wasn’t far from our usual route. It was Tziqui’s first real action for the Qente Waila. He was eager to prove himself after being regularly passed over for assignments ever since his arrival. Only designated to menial tasks. Being an Atima refugee, he was always going on about making the Arbiter pay for neglecting to administer aid to his people. His family had lost everything during the Timuaq assault on Wichanaqta. His father had a difficult time recovering from the loss. Struggled to find work in Qapauma. Tziqui told countless stories of his life on their farm. Of happier times…”

Onixem drifts away for a moment, recounting Tziqui’s stories in her head as though he was currently speaking them to her. Yachaman, Texani, and I exchange glances while we wait for her to start up again, but the length of the pause seemingly never ends, forcing us to bring her back to the present.

“How many members of the Eye in the Flame were present when you and Tziqui arrived?” I ask, attempting to spur her memory and cause her to resume her retelling of the day’s events.

She sighs. “Not many. Not that we could see, initially. Maybe two or three standing outside the dilapidated building, huddled together as though their conversation conveniently led them to that one particular place in front of the devastated temple’s entrance. From where we stood, we could hear them talking, boasting about the large army they’ve amassed. Talking about numbers in the thousands. I wondered how they could possess such numbers, seeing as they’re a small organization. That’s what I believed, anyway. I would soon learn…”

For a moment, Onixem looks lost in thought, tightly gripping her fingers around the pouch and causing a few dribbles of water to leak out. Texani gets her attention and asks, “Did the men in front of the temple entrance say anything else? How did you discover this plan of theirs is in motion, as you put it? What even is their plan?”

“Qapauma and Analoixan,” Onixem says without elaboration, as though we should understand what she means by speaking the names of the continent’s capital and the capital of the Ulxa territory. When Texani, clearly irritated, asks her to explain, she responds, “The Eye in the Flame have purportedly amassed two large armies: one located in the north and one in the continent’s south. The men spoke as though the two are in competition with one another, to see who can account for the most destruction. But they bragged about how foolish the Arbiter was, getting him to believe the Ulxa are a threat and sending vast military resources to the Ulxa territory, leaving a dwindling number in Tapeu with which to defend itself. Then, when the gods align in the sky for Wataq Sami, they plan to unleash a dual assault, on Qapauma and Analoixan. They will attempt to seize both thrones—the one in Ulxa and the one possessed by the Arbiter.”

“The ‘Sky’s Omen’? That’s during the festival, Chasqa Quimi,” I remark. “That’s not very long from now!”

“Indeed,” Texani says, a hand rubbing his chin as he tries his best to mask his concern. “How much are we to believe in the boasts of some naïve cultists?”

“From what I witnessed, we should be gravely concerned,” Onixem says with severity in her tone. Though she’s typically an intensely serious person, the manner in which she warned us has my attention.

“Yes, do go on about what occurred at the ruined temple,” I encourage Onixem, though after seeing the condition she was in when we found her, I slightly regret having her relive that experience. “But only if you’re up for telling us, of course.”

With a solemn, resolute nod, Onixem continues. “I argued for us to stay put, to monitor their activities and see if more sprung out, like rodents leaving their burrow. We were getting a lot of useful information already—there was no reason to be hasty. But Tziqui figured there must be another way inside without having to confront them directly. Said we wouldn’t see what they were up to if we stayed outdoors. He was so eager to prove himself, like I said. He was so determined. He had only been with the Qente Waila for a moon cycle or two, not enough time to build up a reputation to get assigned bigger missions. So this was it for him. This was his chance, as he saw it. I know what that’s like, to be continuously passed on, overlooked. So, against my better judgement, I gave in, and we snuck around to the other side.”

She takes a sip from the empty pouch. I can’t determine whether Onixem is aware there’s nothing for her to drink, but sparing her embarrassment, Yachaman quickly hands her another water pouch to prevent such a moment in the near future. Another pause, and I’m about to urge Onixem to continue when she sucks in air between her teeth and shakes her head.

“I shouldn’t have given in,” she says, taking another sip from the pouch. “But Tziqui was correct; there was another way inside. So, of course, we enter, twisting around and squeezing between the fallen rubble. The main floor was nothing but ruins. But there was a narrow passageway that descended underground. At first, we weren’t sure if anyone was there. It was too dark to make out if any people were hidden in the shadows. Until the chanting started. As soon as he heard this, Tziqui picked up his pace and hurried ahead of me down the corridor. I tried to tell him not to run, not to rush into a possible trap. But my pleas were nothing more than a strained whisper, seeing as I didn’t want to draw attention to our presence and get caught.

“Then, the drum sounded. That drum…” Onixem’s face turns a pale white, the cup dangling loosely from her hands. “It shook every bone in my body. Probably resonated throughout all of Pachil. Such a resounding, ominous thumping. I assumed it was part of the ritual. We progressed toward it, listening to their sinister-sounding hissing and stilted language, expecting to arrive at some twisted, demented ceremony taking place. What we saw was much worse. Much worse.”

Onixem shivers, and I catch her voice breaking while disclosing the traumatic event. I can only speculate as to what she saw, waiting through yet another break in her retelling, believing that what I’m imagining must be much worse than whatever she has gone through. Having only seen the two sides, the Qente Waila and the Eye in the Flame, come to blows in the catacombs, it’s difficult for me to see how this enemy could accomplish something that has her so visibly shaken. Meanwhile, Texani’s expression implores her on, but Yachaman and I know better, know to give her time and let her work through what she experienced. Although I may harbor doubts, I’m well aware that humans are capable of committing gruesome and grotesque acts on their own.

“The corpses were naked and wrapped in chains,” she says with a shudder. Confused, Texani begins to ask about the corpses, but Onixem continues her recounting as though she never heard the question. “Mostly men, but a woman or two, as well. I don’t know where they got the bodies from, but there were maybe five or six, lying motionless while the drum beat grew louder and louder, the rhythm getting faster and faster. Maybe a dozen or so members of the Eye in the Flame, wearing ashen robes and some kind of blood-red cloth shrouding their faces, encircled their targets. Their chanting got more and more intense, like they were shouting at the lifeless bodies to do something. I think I even heard Tziqui snicker; he must’ve had the same thought that I had, about the seeming absurdity of this ritual.”

Onixem shakes her head in disgust. “It would be the last time I saw a smile on Tziqui’s face. Just as he turned to look at me, we both heard it: the rumbling, then an ear-piercing, unnatural roar, as though the bodies possessed multiple growling voices. All I could do was point. I felt myself attempting to say something, attempting to shout a warning to Tziqui, but every word was stuck in my throat. Behind him, the corpses rose, the muscles in their bodies bursting through the skin, multiplying in size and mass. Carved into their foreheads were strange shapes or symbols, and the flesh that remained on their decaying bones turned gray like stone, hanging like loose cloth. A black, viscous sludge casually dripped from what was once their veins, and their eyes turned completely black like the night sky. They were no longer humans; they were monstrosities.”

“So what did you do?” Yachaman asks, mystified by the tale. “You must’ve run away at the sight of such a spectacle.”

“A wise person would’ve ran,” Onixem replies. “That, we were not. I saw the cultists celebrating their creations, at first, but then the beasts pulled on their chains and tore them from the bolts that anchored their restraints to the floor, releasing themselves from their captivity. Some members of the Eye in the Flame cheered in crazed jubilation while the gray monsters started ripping them apart like breaking bread before a meal, eerily delighted to be consumed and devoured by their handiwork. Others desperately tried to restrain the beasts, throwing more chains and hoping to pin down the few that broke free.

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“Tziqui was frozen in place at the grisly sight, looking on in horror. Seeing that this was our only chance to escape, I shouted to get his attention, calling him over to me so we could run away. This alerted some of the cultist members to our presence, and they pointed and yelled for us to be captured. I thought they would be too busy corralling the monsters to worry about us, to do anything to us. I wasn’t… aware they could…”

Onixem begins to weep silently, trying her best to stifle her sobs. “He still hadn’t moved, hadn’t retreated. They said something, some nonsense words or phrase, and then Tziqui… It’s as though they flung an invisible rope around him, binding him and pulling him toward the fracas. How could they achieve such a feat? I thought magic vanished with the Eleven! But then Tziqui is pulled toward them, calling to me. ‘Onixem! Onixem! Sister Onixem!’ he shouts. His words will haunt me for the rest of my days.”

She goes to take another drink of water, but more spills onto her clothing than travels into her mouth. Onixem doesn’t appear to notice. “As though some hand dragged him along the ground, he’s flung at the feet of one of those monsters. It picks him up like a farmer picking potatoes, plucking him from the ground. The creature unhinges its jaw, pointed, yellow teeth chomping the air, and… and… His screams… Blood everywhere, coating the ground…”

She startles as Yachaman places a consoling hand on her shoulder. Onixem becomes inconsolable, crying profusely. The only intelligible words I can understand are “I shouldn’t have given in! He’d be alive if I didn’t give in!”

Texani and I leave Onixem be as she repeats how she shouldn’t have given in to Tziqui while Yachaman holds her in a firm and nurturing embrace. We stand off to the side on the opposite part of the room, occasionally glancing back at the mourning Onixem.

“Gray monsters?” Texani rhetorically asks. “Like from the war? Are we to really believe this?”

“I may not know Onixem well,” I say, pityingly looking over at her, “but I don’t know her to be one who fabricates such details. It’s difficult for me to imagine her crafting such a story, and why she would. I can’t give you any tangible evidence, but I sense she speaks the truth.”

Mentioning my instinctual belief in Onixem’s tale is of particular note to me. It’s true: I can’t understand why or how, but I know she’s being 100% honest with us. It’s as though a voice calls to me, informing me of this, or a beacon that’s aflame, signaling this fact. Her recounting of what took place at the temple is shocking, but knowing deep in my bones that what she expressed is true? To say I’m mortified is a severe understatement. What I had encountered alongside Onixem in the catacombs felt catastrophic, but adding supernatural beasts and abilities to the situation means what I initially perceived as some mere rebellious organization is far more threatening than I could’ve imagined. The thought of what this realization could potentially mean for the fate of Pachil leaves me breathless, stars appearing at the sides of my vision, and I feel flushed, as though I could faint at any moment.

“It seems improbable and unlikely,” Texani says as he shifts his attention between me and the grief-stricken Onixem, “but we should act as though she speaks the truth and take every precaution.” I’m tempted to remind him, again, that Onixem is not one to have such an imaginative mind, but I hold my tongue and focus on the matter at hand.

“We need to warn the Qente Waila members here in Qapauma and prepare to defend ourselves, or retreat entirely,” he continues. After what we were just informed of, did he seriously throw out the option that we might want to escape Qapauma altogether? How many hundreds—no, thousands—of lives are in possible danger, and he wants to leave them behind to save his own neck? Are the Qente Waila not fighting for the people of Pachil? Need I remind him, that includes those who reside in Qapauma, and that goes for the people inside the palace, as well.

I surprise myself at my desire to aid those who lie in harm’s way, the people of the palace. With such corruption and arrogance, I would think I’d find much relief in seeing their destruction. To finally have Achutli deposed would fill me with complete joy, knowing the thing he fought so hard to achieve for himself has been ripped from his undeserving hands. Every council member is an accomplice to his transactional method of ruling, so I would greatly relish their fall, as well.

But not in this manner, I determine. I want my revenge—that much is certainly clear, and I refuse to allow him to rule for much longer if I can help it. However, it should be done at my hands, not some maniacal cult whose motives are formed from ill intent. A change of the person sitting atop the throne must be made, most definitely, but not by replacing one evil ruler with another; we have already done so by removing the Timuaq and replacing them with this self-serving tyrant.

However, the most important reason to stay and fight is to protect all the innocent people who may fall victim to this cult’s plans of viciously attacking the city. Say what one will about the Arbiter, but there are servants in that palace building who would be attacked and slain due to their proximity to power, not their access to it. They have done nothing to deserve such a fate.

“I beg your pardon,” I say, astounded at his remark. “Do my ears deceive me? I just thought I heard you suggest that we should only look out for ourselves, or that we should run and hide otherwise.”

He scoffs. “If what she says is true, as you so adamantly believe, then their threat is far greater than anything the Jade Hummingbird could stand up against alone. We do not have the resources to challenge such an overwhelming and overpowering foe. Those who wish to remain in Qapauma should prepare to defend themselves, but our numbers would be better served elsewhere. The Tapeu can fend for themselves—they have the military, after all.”

“We do not get to pick and choose who we assign protection when the whole land is being threatened by a group who sees everyone who is not apart of their cult as opposition,” I state, unflinching and staring directly into his eyes. “Is the purpose of the Qente Waila to empower the people, and to serve and protect those in need? I’m beginning to question the true intent and values of the Qente Waila if what you just said and believe are representative of all those in positions of leadership within the Jade Hummingbird.”

“You are far too idealistic, and it’s clouding your judgement,” he remarks. “You are not pragmatic nor practical enough to make these difficult choices. Noble intentions do not always equate to feasible actions, especially when resources are scarce and the enemy is formidable. Sometimes, we must think of survival before we can think of heroism.”

I feel the skin of my cheeks grow flush as my heartbeat pounds in my ears, angered by Texani’s critique. Undeterred, I respond, “Idealistic? Perhaps. But what are we if we abandon our principles at the first sign of real danger? If our decisions are guided solely by pragmatism and survival, then we risk losing our very essence, the core of what the Qente Waila stands for. We cannot simply turn our backs on those in need, especially when they face a threat we have the power to confront. I refuse to accept that our only choice is to flee or to forsake those we claim we want to protect. There must be a way to stand our ground without sacrificing our values or the lives we are meant to safeguard. And I am committed to finding it, even if I must do so alone.”

Texani scowls, casting his eyes down and away from me. I’m about to walk away from him, ready to rejoin Yachaman and find the solution, when, in a huff, he says, “We can’t tip off the Arbiter.”

“Explain yourself,” I demand, speaking to him over my shoulder.

“To our presence, to our existence,” Texani answers. “If we’re going to defend Qapauma, or ensure it’s prepared for an incoming attack by these supposed gray creatures and magic wielders, we must find a way to inform them without giving away the presence of the Jade Hummingbird here in the city. My understanding is that the Arbiter believes our organization is either exterminated or close to it within the borders of the capital, and it would be in our best interests to keep it that way.”

I turn to face him, nodding in agreement with his assessment. “We need to learn just how many combatants they plan on using for this incoming attack. You should have leadership utilize the Qente Waila informants to continue monitoring the cult’s movements and see if solid numbers can be ascertained. Then we can understand just how significant and dangerous this threat is.

“Meanwhile, I will work on getting resources and supplies distributed to locations throughout Qapauma, so we can be prepared to reach anyone in need of assistance wherever the fighting occurs. We can say…” I think for a moment before the idea strikes me, “that we’re gathering materials for the upcoming festival. I’ll have everyone perform these tasks under the guise of being part of the festivities, and we can have them stored in any safe houses the Qente Waila can utilize.”

Texani considers this, then declares, “I’ll direct you to where our leadership is located, for you to more effectively spread the message. Getting everyone involved will make this process more efficient, since time is of the essence.”

“Yachaman,” I say, looking over to my friend who has greatly calmed Onixem down, “we need to find trustworthy individuals within the palace who not only would be receptive to our cause, but also take news of the threat seriously. Do you believe you still have contacts within the grounds to best make use of this?”

She searches deep within the recesses of her mind, looking for anyone who could be amiable. Her head snaps up when she comes to the answer. “There are several with whom I could discuss the matter. I may not be generally well-received by those at the servants’ quarters, but I was able to make friends who could become allies. There are some I believe who still serve military officials, and they could direct me to any who are dissatisfied with the Arbiter and the current regime. We could perhaps recruit them to our cause.”

“We can meet back here early tomorrow to update each other on how we’re progressing,” I say. “Wataq Sami and the celestial festival are supposed to take place in only a few days from now, so I don’t need to remind you of how little time we have. But if this city is to be protected, and the Eye in the Flame stopped, we must try to do everything we can. It may not be much, but it’s better than not acting at all.”

With this, we determine we’ve discussed all we can, and can only hope we’ll be successful in our respective tasks. We leave Onixem in the hands of Texani as they prepare to depart for a more secure location possessed by the Qente Waila. Yachaman and I exchange one more reassuring glance before entering the streets and parting ways. We are going to do our part in stopping this madness by the Eye in the Flame. All I can hope is that the lands to the south are ready for the storm that is headed its way.

Qapauma is bustling with villagers still decorating for the upcoming Chasqa Quimi, with jovial chatter, laughter, and singing spreading throughout the city. The sides of the homes have been painted in magenta, blue, and yellow dyes, while colorful cloth suspended on ropes between buildings flap in the gentle breeze. Roasted cuy and viscacha can be smelled everywhere you walk, along with potatoes and maize. The residents are blissfully unaware of the impending threat that looks to disrupt the celebrations. I want to grab the shoulders of every passerby, shout to every person I encounter on the streets, “There’s a terrible danger closing in on Qapauma! An evil unseen since the days of the Timuaq threaten us all! We must protect ourselves!” I would be seen as a madwoman, a lunatic, and likely cast out of society forever. Yet, if they only knew what this maniacal cult had planned for the city, they would be making preparations to protect themselves, not lavishly decorating the city.

“Lady Haesan!” I hear a familiar voice pierce through the loud conversations that surround me, jolting me out of my stream of consciousness. When I look up, my heart leaps into my throat, and a shock immediately crashes over me. I’m rendered momentarily breathless and rooted to the spot, my mind grappling to reconcile the impossible reality before my eyes. Sheepishly, Qane’s eyes hardly make contact with mine while, decorated in the prominent outfit of the Qapauma palace guard, he stands a fair distance behind a toothily-grinning Chalqo, whose voice may contain pleasantries, yet his eyes indicate anything but.

“What an absolute surprise to see you in Qapauma! I had wondered to where you and Lady Yachaman had disappeared, fearing only the worst must’ve happened. But then, young and noble Qane informed me that we may find you here, taking in the sights of the preparations for the upcoming Chasqa Quimi! Is that, in fact, what you are doing here in the capital?”