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Save for the continuous noises of life in the jungle, the many days traveling to the lagoon is spent in silence between us. The birds and monkeys cheerfully call to one another, but there is no feeling of cheer among our group. The recent interaction with the Auilqa tribe leaves many questions lingering in the air. The distrust in our hired guide grows the longer she remains quiet, and I wonder what was exchanged between her and the native tribe. Has she made some deal with them? Are we or the contents of the chest to be handed over to the tribe if we survive its trials?

I channel my frustrations in hacking away at the endless sea of vines hindering our path. With the unrelenting and nearly unbearable humidity, I forget that it’s winter elsewhere in Pachil, wondering if these jungle ever experience the merciful cold. Perhaps it’s this continuous exposure to sweltering heat that is causing my mood to deteriorate. Either way, never have I missed the cool, dry winds of Qantua as much as I do now, while I wipe away yet more beads of sweat from my brow.

Sporadically, Síqalat excitedly points to a blue mark with the supposed oval and two triangles, indicating that we’re on the right path. I remain skeptical, though I’m skeptical of much about Síqalat. She claims to be a well-traveled guide, yet she led us directly into the hostilities of an Auilqa tribe. She pointed to a colored marker and stated it denoted a path to the Auilqa watering hole, yet she led us into their supposed hunting grounds, in direct confrontation with a massive jaguar.

I’m of two minds: she could’ve been mistaken and all incidents were by happenstance, or this is some elaborate ruse to relieve us of our valuables. Perhaps, on the day that we met her, she could have noted us as a mark, some target flush with riches of whom she could take advantage. It’s not as though we disguised ourselves; we practically announced ourselves as outsiders, given Upachu’s pale skin untouched by the sun, or my black and gold tunic and armor.

The memories of a moment in the early days of the War of Liberation come rushing back to me. I’m reminded of my outfit, before I ultimately took command over it. Many were young, inexperienced. But they were full of vigor, ready and eager to defeat the Timuaq. What they lacked in experience, they more than made up for in vitality and energy, traits I would come to embrace from my squads until the end of the war.

We were camped in the Achope jungles, close to the Tapeu border. Our leader, Qencha, had plans to slip through the mountain pass and into Tapeu territory. We needed supplies, to ensure we could traverse the mountains and endure the strenuous conditions. He had worked out a deal with the nearby Achope village, Ilquitaa, who would gather and organize our supplies in exchange for protection. It seemed like a reasonable deal, and none in our group had questioned it.

It wasn’t until we were awoken to the thunderous stampede of the titans storming our camp that we became aware we were being set up, betrayed. We lost many lives that day—nearly two-thirds of the entire squadron—and were forced to retreat, utilizing stolen merchant vessels and traversing the Maiu Qoli to safety. This was how we learned the hard lesson: the Achope would look out only for what’s in their faction’s best interests, not that of the entire continent. The Timuaq, we would later learn, had promised them significant wealth, plundered from the other factions, should they join their cause. The Achope are easily swayed—no, they are easily bought, with riches being their main means of motivation. This knowledge was used to ultimately have them join the rebellion many harvests later, but everyone still looks at them with suspicion, even after the end of the war. Why I seemingly chose to ignore this conventional wisdom during our time in Chopaqte, I cannot say.

I kick myself for being so short-sighted. How could I not have realized we were setting ourselves up for being swindled? I gave in to her charms in Chopaqte, seeing her stand up to the tavern keeper and proclaiming to have some morals and a sense of justice. The entire moment could have been a ruse, some set up to sink her hooks into an unsuspecting victim likely to possess riches. It’s this unpreparedness that gets one killed when you let your guard down for the slightest moment. There isn’t much to do now but watch her attentively and make sure that she doesn’t succeed with whatever she’s planning.

Upachu seems unfazed by the matter. He takes in all the sights and sounds of the Auilqa jungle, grinning from ear to ear as he gazes upon the wonders of nature. Even amidst a heavy rain storm that drenches us from head to toe, he simply laughs in delight, finding humor in our misfortune. When we were helping the workers clear rubble at the Temple of the Titans, Upachu did so with a smile, humming a merry tune I hadn’t heard since way before I could handle a practice sword. I wish I could be as blissfully unaware as he is. In a way, I admire his ability to enjoy the experiences of the journey despite the trials and encounters we faced, or the possibility of danger we’re in now. I am too practical to be that naïve.

It’s likely Síqalat is waiting for the right moment to rob and kill us when we’re at our most vulnerable, isolated from anyone who could help us. Perhaps her initial plan was to leave us at the hands of the hostile Auilqa, known for their savagery and killing any outsider to their lands. Their misconception that I am a god to be feared must’ve forced her to alter her plan, left to figure another way. No matter. I must ensure we’re at the ready at all times, able to properly defend ourselves when the time comes.

I watch our hired guide with continued suspicion as we hack through the dense, lush vines. She carries on as though she holds no ulterior motive, no sinister plan. Could this be a façade? Could I be over thinking the situation? These invasive thoughts are certainly occurring at a feverish rate the deeper we travel these jungles. For now, she acts as though she’s on our side, striking the vines with aggressive determination to get Upachu and me to our desired destination. After numerous wordless days, she finally breaks the silence.

“So,” she begins without looking at Upachu or me, “why do you want to go to this lagoon anyway? This so-called ‘journey of discovery’ can’t be to simply wander around the humid jungles of Auilqa to be rained on and risk your lives to the hostile natives and beasts. What knowledge do you hope to ‘discover’?”

I respond to her question with a question of my own. “You undertook this journey to guide us without question and without knowing our intentions. So why the sudden curiosity?”

She stops slashing at the thick foliage and turns around to face me. There’s a look of disbelief in her eyes, as though she cannot understand why I’ve asked something so offensive. “Setting aside your consistent sidestepping whenever the inquiry of your journey’s true purpose arises, you should be grateful someone has taken on the risks of trekking through Auilqa territory to get you both to your desired destination. I could’ve let you aimlessly wander around the rainforest, but out of the kindness of my heart, here I am, leading you to this sacred lagoon—which the Auilqa aren’t thrilled about us going to, by the way.”

“Except you practically did let us wander aimlessly,” I rebut. “And you’re doing it for payment—we are paying you to be our guide.”

At this, she shrugs, which only angers me more. “Confess!” I demand. “You were uncertain how to get us to the lagoon until we encountered the tribe.”

“Oh, I knew how to reach it!” she remarks, stepping closer to me now, to where I can feel her warm breath and spittle on my face as she raises her voice. “As you’ve experienced, these jungles aren’t exactly the easiest to navigate. But we would have arrived, Auilqa intervention or not.” She raises the device around her neck and jabs her finger at it, as though this gesture should prove her statement correct.

“But you announced to us that you obtained the directions to get to–“

“Eh, if I may,” Upachu interjects after a heavy sigh. He wedges his arms between me and Síqalat, then expands them in an effort to separate us. It partly works, as she and I take a step back. But it doesn’t prevent the glare exchanged between me and our guide. “Let us not forget that we are all companions on the same path, albeit with different steps and different reasons.”

Upachu looks at me, though I resist breaking eye contact with Síqalat. “Teqosa, Síqalat has indeed brought us closer to our destination, through terrains and encounters that would have bewildered and overwhelmed many. And Síqalat,” he now looks at our hired guide, who also stubbornly refuses to look at him, “Teqosa’s caution is not without merit. The stakes of our journey are high, something that could determine the fate of Pachil. Not to speak in hyperbole.”

This elicits a scoff and an eye roll from Síqalat. Upachu continues, “I have always believed that transparency breeds trust, and trust is the strongest bond that can unite a group facing common adversities. Perhaps, Teqosa, it’s time we share more about our intentions and fears. Not only to clear the air, but to strengthen our resolve as a unit.”

Now I glare at Upachu. ‘A unit’. He dares to try and speak my language, that of the military. Could he be truly suggesting such a thing? The possibility of including and involving someone outside of our circle could endanger our progress. We don’t genuinely know this Síqalat; for all we know, she could be working with the Eye in the Flame as some spy planted to undermine our mission. He is far too trusting to allow a relative stranger to learn what brings us to distant lands and perilous journeys.

Seemingly undeterred, he smiles gently, and a whimsical twinkle glints in his eyes. “After all, if we cannot trust each other in the quiet moments, how shall we trust each other when the roar of danger surrounds us?” He seems oddly proud of that statement, as if he spoke wise words that will be repeated by every Great Librarian for as long as Qantua shall stand. I, personally, find it to be gibberish, and I’m uninspired by his ramblings.

The jungle around us seems to quiet, as if listening in and waiting with bated breath for what will happen next, for how Síqalat and I will react. Upachu glances between the two of us expectantly, likely wondering why we both still remain silent. I remain skeptical, not inclined to divulge anything. Yet, looking upon the elder’s eager expression, I dislike disappointing him by not going along with his ideal plan.

“Fine,” I say, my voice low and measured. I feel the muscles in my face tense, trying my best not to scowl as I deliver the information. “We seek something hidden away from prying eyes and those with evil intent. It is vital to preserving the balance of Pachil, to protect it from those who would seek to disrupt it. That is all I can share at this time.”

This doesn’t appear to appease Upachu nor Síqalat. What more do they expect me to say? If information of our journey gets to the wrong people, we could be in grave danger.

After the silence that lingers, and the urging stare from Upachu, I continue, albeit uneasily. “Fine,” I snap. “Our journey isn’t just about exploration or understanding the myths of Pachil. We’ve found clues leading us to believe that there are artifacts that may decide the fate of wars, of factions, and that one such artifact lies at the lagoon. But thatwill be all I share, for now.” I give Síqalat a pointed look, making it clear that this is my compromise—a not-so-small truth, but still holding back the full depth of our quest.

She listens intently with an unreadable expression, one that remains guarded. After a moment, her shoulders drop slightly. ”Does it have anything to do with what’s dangling around your neck and those strange objects in the cart?” Síqalat asks. My pulse quickens, and I glance at the stone-faced Upachu. Sensing my discomfort, she explains herself. “I saw them when I was setting my belongings on the back of the cart. Bales of straw? You know, if they’re supposed to be some guarded secret, you could hide them better than that.”

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Upachu cracks a defeated smile like a child caught stealing sweet breads from the kitchen. He raises his hands to concede, to which Síqalat chuckles. I have yet to find the humor in any of this exchange.

“It’s fair to expect a bit of honesty,” she then says, brusquely. “Thank you for trusting me with this. The tribe didn’t speak of anything pertaining to artifacts or Pachil-altering revelations. Only old prophecies speaking of trials contained within the walls of the pyramid that rests on an island in the middle of the lagoon. And they dislike outsiders trekking to their sacred place, though they believe your amulet indicates you are one who is marked and allowed to pass its threshold.”

“Marked?” I ask.

She doesn’t clarify, instead continuing with her explanation. “You should know, the path we’re on, the final steps to the lagoon and into the tomb? It’s fraught with indescribable dangers. Something that, they say, no one has lived to talk about. That is what they expressed to me—with much trepidation, I should add.”

Delighted, Upachu smiles. “There we are! Now we can proceed as allies!” He places an arm around each of us, squeezing our shoulders together. Síqalat and I both resist being brought together, though reluctantly accepting his embrace. The top of his head barely clears our shoulders, but it seems to me his pride in this moment makes him stand as tall as giants.

We return to venturing deeper into this jungle, hacking and slashing at the impeding vegetation. Síqalat occasionally looks down at the mechanism hanging from a necklace, though I’m doubtful at how much it’s aiding her navigation of the rainforest. The deep, resonant calls of distant creatures through the trees blends with the subtle rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze. A hidden waterfall grows louder, the steady thrum of its relentless flow underscoring our footsteps. The air is thick, almost tangible, and filled with the scent of an impending rain that threatens to flood us out once again. Yet we persist, zigzagging around the vast number of trees, with only the occasional fallen logs or broken stumps that barely open up into a path for us to traverse.

Clearing the dense thicket, the path opens onto a vista that steals my breath. Before us stands an ancient pyramid towering above the lush jungle, its massive stone face bathed with the fiery hues of a dying sun. The vivid colors of the sky cast a surreal glow over the scene, with the tomb’s intricate carvings glowing like gold. Vines cling to its weathered surfaces, and flanked by verdant foliage, a broad, red staircase leads up to its grand entrance, though the base of these steps are shrouded by a thick mist that hovers above the lagoon.

With an arrogant smirk, Síqalat splays out her arms as though presenting the scene to us, announcing, “See! I told you I knew the direction we were heading was correct!”

“Even the wildest river still finds the sea,” I remark, earning a smack on the shoulder from Upachu.

The pyramid appears to float above the trees, as a heavy fog cloaks the bottom of the stone building. There’s a question as to how we should approach, with no bridge or water vessel to get us across. And, should we attempt to traverse the waters, it’s uncertain where we could even dock, or how far we need to go.

Up until the edge of the mist, I can see the bottom of the lagoon, and I wonder if it’s shallow enough for us to walk through. When I propose this to the group, Síqalat immediately dismisses the idea. “Do you know what’s swimming around in those waters?” she asks. Shaking my head, as I have no idea, she says, “I’ve heard stories of the treacherous fish with sharp teeth like small daggers that will shred your skin in a few heartbeats! Or large anacondas that will wrap around you and suffocate you before swallowing you whole. And those are just a few of the stories! What’s actually in there? I don’t want to find out.”

I sigh, exhausted by the excessive amount of caution exercised over stories and folklore. However, Upachu looks gravely concerned by this, petting the llama profusely. “We can’t endanger the llama, or ourselves, Teqosa. We’ll need to fashion a raft, or some means of getting across.”

Another sigh. When I ask for help, Upachu begins clutching his lower back. “Ooo, at my age, and with how much further we’ve got to go on this journey, I’m not certain that’s a good idea,” he says through a strained voice. When I remind him of the rubble and debris he helped clear at the Temple of the Titans, he slyly responds, “That’s probably what caused my back pain, then!”

For better or worse, Síqalat offers her assistance, eager and energetic. Lacking the proper tools to make a raft, we use our respective weapons—her borrowing the obsidian sword and me using the glaive—to chop down the thick trees and cut them into sizable pieces. There isn’t much hemp twine available to bind them together, leaving us with a problem of getting everyone, and everything, on board.

Síqalat jumps with excitement. “I’ve got it! It’ll be slow, but we’ve already taken a good portion of the day, so what’s a little more time? We can go back and forth, bit by bit, until we eventually all make it across. I’ll start with an exploratory trip over, to see where we can land, and I can take the cart with me. Then, I’ll return to–“

Without hesitation, I begin to protest this plan as I rush over to the cart and retrieve my glaive. “We cannot leave that cart out of our sights. There are too many valuable items contained within to risk something happening to them.”

“I’ll hold onto the papyrus and the other two clay pots,” Upachu states. “If some predator damages the others, well, we’re already here, so there’s no harm if they get broken.”

After considering this, I grunt in reluctant acceptance, though I’m still not entirely on board with this plan. It takes us most of the day to craft a water vessel, but upon completion, Síqalat volunteers herself and the cart to explore the possible island in the center of this lagoon. We watch her slowly disappear into the ceaseless fog, fading out of sight as does her rhythmic paddling.

“How can you trust her so unconditionally?” I ask Upachu while Síqalat remains out of range. “Do you not believe she could possibly possess ill intentions? She could be a robber, for all we know, seeking the perfect opportunity when we’re at our most vulnerable and abandon us.”

“While I admire your ability to always find the good in people, your continuous distrust and cynicism is unfounded here,” he says. “If she really wanted to rob us, or worse, why wait until we travel deep into dangerous Auilqa territory to do so?”

“Because there could be valuable riches contained within this place, and she is letting us lead her to it, only to betray us in the end!” I exclaim. I hear my voice echo across the waters, and I quickly lower my voice to a near whisper. “We need to be mindful of her actions, watching her every move.”

Upachu chuckles heartily. “My friend, I’m not certain what has changed between now and Chopaqte, but I believe you need to be a bit calmer, especially when it comes to matters involving our hired guide.”

Síqalat’s journey takes an excruciating amount of time, given me too long to mull over Upachu’s overly-trustful sentiments. He tries his best to distract me while I wait, but I’ve become tired of his topics of conversation. My mind cannot focus on anything else, and it’s fixated on the potential betrayal awaiting us at Síqalat’s hands. Or, perhaps, it has already happened, and she has left us on these banks of the lagoon while she seeks the valuables contained within the tomb on her own.

It isn’t until I hear the gradually increasing sounds of our makeshift ores piercing the waters when I grow just slightly relieved. Only she returns, giving me the impression she’s found a place for us to land on the island. She grins from ear to ear, puffing her chest out with pride.

“You’re going to believe this,” she exclaims, “but I, the great Síqalat, have found the island. It’s… tricky to get to, with plenty of rocks protruding from the surface—nearly took myself out by a few of those sneaky ones! But I believe I’ll get better at navigating them with the next few trips!”

Her enthusiasm only infects Upachu, chuckling along with her. Unamused, I remind her, “we still must have all of us cross the lagoon some way or another.”

“Of course!” Síqalat remarks. “So, hop aboard and–“

I cut her off. “I refuse to leave Upachu vulnerable to the dangers of the Auilqa jungles.”

Leery, Síqalat says, “Okay… so, then, he can travel with me first, and–“

“And allow you to murder him on the island? Not a chance. Upachu and I will travel to the island first. Then I will return for the llama. Then you.” I declare.

Síqalat smacks the sides of her legs, exasperated. “But you don’t know where to go,” she says.

“I will find it,” I reply. “If you were able to do so, I can do so.”

“Teqosa,” Upachu says, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. “You are being needlessly difficult right now. We just talked about trusting one another, didn’t we? Well, you need to put some trust into her. She returned, after all. Weren’t you worried about that moments ago, eh?”

I frown, letting out a frustrated snort. He may be correct in this moment, but it doesn’t mean he couldn’t be misguided about trusting her. She’ll still need to be minded.

“Fine,” I concede, finding myself doing so too much during this journey for my liking. “Cross with Upachu first. Then, the llama. Then, me.”

The other two nod and accept this proposal. And so, as the pair paddle away, I’m left with nothing but the lapping water and my churning thoughts. Is this what the path has made of me, a warrior combating phantoms even in the light of day? I can’t entirely fault her for not disclosing everything when I refuse to do so myself. Perhaps Upachu’s unwavering optimism is not naivety, but a strength I’ve allowed the shadows of past betrayals to steal from me.

When she returns, Síqalat looks exhausted, warily rowing to the landing. She attempts to play this off, pretending to still possess a day’s worth of energy, but she and I both know she must be tired from all the travel and rowing. I extend my hands, offering to paddle the remainder of the way, but she pauses. It’s as though she’s not accustomed to relinquishing control, even for a little bit, and she wrestles with the idea of doing so internally. After a brief moment of consideration, though, she calmly obliges.

The waters are calm, almost peaceful. Once more, we travel in silence, quietly taking in the little of the environment we can see. Síqalat points out the approaching rocks—the only words exchanged between us—giving me ample time to push off and navigate around them. As we approach the shores of the island, Upachu awaits with a wide, knowing grin and shrugs his shoulders, as if to indicate to me that he was right about trusting her.

From the banks of the island, the swampy ground is soft from the mud and stagnant water. The aroma of wet stone emerges as we draw nearer, mixing with the vegetal smell of moss that clings to the tomb’s weathered steps. The base of the large pyramid finally comes into view, and it’s apparent we’ll need to climb the steep steps in order to enter.

I look between the llama and the stairs, questioning what we should do about the animal. Do we leave it outside the tomb, exposed to possible dangers of the rainforest? Upachu, however, attempts to reassure me. “This is a sacred place, protected by the creator of all things, Iolatl. She will ensure the llama is safe. Besides, predators are more common in the dense jungles than this lonely isle. Come, let’s make our way up these steps.” Though Síqalat nods her agreement, it’s only because of Upachu’s confidence in the creature’s safety, given his admiration for the animal, that makes my decision to leave it behind easier.

Mountains have easier grades to scale than these steps, requiring us to climb up and lift ourselves to the next platform. Síqalat jumps to the stair’s ledge with ease, swiftly pulling herself up and over. She turns back, extending a hand to help catch Upachu. I lock my hands together and hoist him up, heaving him high above my shoulders. The guide catches his wrist and hauls him to the platform. With a leap, I lift myself up, straining the muscles in my arms and barely able to swing my leg around to allow my foot to catch the edge. Once I roll onto the stone surface, I exhale, lying on my back, and uncertain how many more of these stairs I’ll be able to climb.

Upachu has a hearty laugh at this. “I thought they trained you better at the Maqanuiache, Teqosa!” Síqalat smirks, seemingly enjoying the sight of me being exhausted after one step. Maybe it’s a means to ease my stress, but I find myself briefly joining in the laughter.

As we continue our ascent, the trek grows increasingly precarious. Each step is a labor, more daunting than the last. The wind begins to howl the higher we climb, and the ominously darkening sky makes it difficult to distinguish safe footholds from treacherous ones.

Síqalat nimbly scales another massive step ahead of us. Before she turns around to expectantly reach for Upachu, however, her confidence seems to falter for a moment as she tests the stability of the next stone with her foot.

“Careful,” she calls back to us. “These stones aren’t as solid as they look.”

Upachu nods as he nervously examines each foothold before stepping forward. I watch, holding my breath as I await his signal that the way forward is safe before following behind. I lower myself and prepare for him to place his sandal onto my balled-up fists to hoist him up. Síqalat crouches down and extends her hand.

Suddenly, there’s a sharp crack—the sound of stone breaking under strain. With a startled yelp, Síqalat’s foot finds air as the stone beneath it crumbles in an instant. The rocks fall and fall, cascading down into a never-ending abyss as black as the night. The cavernous pit goes on forever, and the stones make no clattering noise, as they never appear to reach a bottom.

With a gasp, she scrambles, her arms flailing for anything to halt her descent. She manages to grab onto a jutting piece of the adjacent stair, her fingers whitening as they desperately clutch at the rough surface. Her breaths come in sharp gasps, as her body swings out over the void.

“Teqosa!” she cries out, her voice slicing through the wind.

I secure Upachu against the stairwell, ensuring he’s out of immediate danger, then rush towards Síqalat. My heart pounds as I see her hanging there, looking up at me with pleading eyes full of fear. I reach the edge just as another part of the stair gives way, dust and small stones tumbling down.

Her grip slips further, her fingers scraping against the stone. “Please,” she gasps, barely audible over the wind as she strains to hold on, “don’t let this be my end. This is not the sacrifice to be made.”

For a moment, the world seems to freeze as I brace myself to pull her up. I stand over her as she dangles over the abyss, my mind racing. Do I trust her? Do I save her?

I place one boot across her fingers.