Traveling in a larger group is a relief in several ways.

More eyes to see threats and more people to cycle through watch at the end of the day.

My mind processes the experience of the third temple.

The god of death.

The mad cackling of the figure lingers in my mind.

The meat jelly and bird of paradise gave their blessing freely. But death put us all through a terrible experience.

As much as my mind suffered from the swing of death's scythe, I feel lighter than ever before. As if a burden I had never realized I'd been carrying had fallen off my soul.

I wonder if the attack was more than cruelty.

Whatever the case, the path before us teems with dangers.

I feel eyes tracking us as we move along the trail.

I think of the Anunaki spy from before.

This time, it will be more complex to dispatch the observers.

"I feel like we're being watched."

I nod my head to Samantha's statement.

"What do we do?"

I shrug, "We carry on and double the watch when we rest."

The other pilgrims hear us and become more earnest in their watching of the shadows.

This continues for several days, and the number of spies is growing.

Other than the stalkers, the path is fairly free of obstacles. Snakes appear from time to time. But it's a simple matter to avoid them.

We'll pass this leg of the journey undisturbed.

Of course, as soon as I think of such a thing, something waits on the road before us.

As we draw nearer to the object, I realize it's a human.

Anxiety strikes me as I think of the potential for this to be a trap.

The woman appears wounded, her ankle twisted.

"Please," the woman says as we draw close. "Help."

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Sensing the potential for this being a trap, I stop the party a few paces away from the woman.

Her eyes are moist with frustration.

"What happened?" I ask.

The woman looks scared.

"They," she says. "They chased me. And, my foot slipped. Please, please help me get to the temple."

Her explanation doesn't relieve all of my suspicion. If she was chased to the point of collapse, why is she still alive?

Still, we can't leave someone to die out here.

"We need to check you for weapons."

My words bring a look of relief to the woman's face.

Shortly, we find her safe enough to bring her into the party.

One of our number helps her to walk. But, immediately, our pace is slowed to a crawl.

At the end of our day's transit, we make camp.

The smell of roasted snake fills the air pleasantly.

My eyes rarely leave the new woman. And, see her take notice of my suspicion.

She smiles innocently at me when our eyes cross.

After a meal, the party sits around the campfire.

I look at them and ask, "Why are you all doing this?"

My question elicits several paused breaths.

One of the men starts speaking.

"The gate is the path to the other circles."

"Circles?" I echo in confusion.

The man nods, "The world of the dead is not only a world of twilight. The light and the dark. Both principles exist in the world of the dead."

My head spins. Should I be relieved or terrified that there are more versions of this hell?

"So," I ask, "what circle of hell are we in?"

Another man speaks up, "This isn't hell."

I look at him in confusion. "Then where are we?"

The first man says, "It might as well be Eden compared to what hell is."

I'm even more lost for the answers.

We sit silently for a while before the party's first woman asks, "What was it like when you were alive?"

The question hangs over the gathering.

"I worked construction," comes a voice. "It was good money. But, it was also dangerous. As is apparent by my being here."

The man smiles wryly.

"After Mars was terraformed, there was a lot of work. I got to build the dream of mankind."

I puzzle over the man's words.

"How long has it been since you died? I don't remember such a project. Was it the United States that colonized Mars?"

The man frowns at me, "What's the United States?"

I look among the gathering and see comprehension as well as confusion.

"You're American?" I'm asked.

"Yeah," I look to the man who asked. "Are you?"

The man shakes his head, "Italy. You speak Italian so well, I thought you must have been from my country."

One of the mysteries of this place is coming into focus.

"I'm not speaking Italian. I'm speaking English."

The man looks confused, and we join him in that confusion.

The matter of multiple realities has been explained to me. But no one has told me why we understand each other.

"I don't know," is the answer of every party member.

For the first time, the woman with the sprained ankle speaks.

"You're not speaking English or Italian. You're speaking the language of creation."

"What do you mean?" I puzzle.

The woman smiles, "In the beginning, there were no languages as we know them—to make sure everything is clear between people.

"But," she pauses, "in many realities, mankind challenged the gods. Their hubris brought a curse that would last through all their lines, the curse of tongues.

"The curse has no power over the dead. And so, we speak the true language. The fact that you think you're speaking English is a trick of the mind. In time, you'll recognize your words."

The woman stares off into the fire while the rest of us are left to process her words.

It takes some time, but we find sleep. The guards are watchful for any threat.

I rest easily. In my dreams, I see a woman with red eyes. I can't help but feel like I recognize her. But, from where, I do not know.

Her mouth moves silently. And I try to approach her. But my legs don't move.

I awaken disturbed. I am still trying to understand the meaning of the dream. But I settle my nerves and get back to sleep.