The land of Aztlan, the center of the new world, had become known across the world for its ruthlessness, its affinity to the arts, and the corruption of its political leaders. The citizens of the land had become as tough as steel, their endurance matching their resolve. An ancient land, with a history predating the landing of the ships on the eastern coasts, the natives welcomed the people of the old world in a mutual exchange of culture, science, and technology. A short lived peace. In a desperate attempt to bend the new world to their whims, the people of the old world waged war, the result leaving no clear winner, rather, leaving following generations within a constant struggle between the ideologies of the two cultures.

Barbara Kelak, once having dreams of becoming the greatest swordmaster of all time, now travels the land, in search of a way to rid herself of her cursed immortality. Her journey had led her to the small village of Ypeuhcalan, where her sources had informed her high ranking acolytes of the Cult of Descent had hidden away.

The road to Ypeuhcalan was an inconvenient one, to get there, one must traverse a narrow, rocky road, carved at the edge of tall mountains threatening to give in to the weight of the carriage on which Barbara traveled. The wagon is full of trade goods, primarily grains and cereals, along with copper, and iron ores, she guises as a roaming merchant. The winding road finally reaches the plateau of the mountains, where the flat lands are ripe with vegetation, and humid soil fit for farming.

Up ahead, a young boy, carrying a full grown hog on his shoulders, also making his way to town.

“May the Sun shine in your favor.” Quickly catching up to him, she greets the boy. “Need a lift?”

The boy gives a nod to greet her. “May the Sun be in your favor. Uh, no thanks.” He adjusts the tame hog on his shoulder. “Town’s not far, anyway.”

“In that case get on. I’m going to the market to sell some stuff. My name is Barbara Kelak.”

“My name is Juanito.” He responds, gently placing the hog on the wagon amongst Barbara’s inventory, the pig snorts around at the different crates and wooden barrels. “Are you really a merchant?”

“Sure I am. What makes you think otherwise?”

“Your sword.”

Barbara looks down at the cross hilt sword fastened on her left. “Oh. You know how things are nowadays. Gotta stay safe.” She clears her throat. “So, got a girlfriend?”

Juanito blushes. “No.”

“I bet there’s someone you like.” She nudges his shoulder.

Juanito shifts in his seat, looking around for something. “Look, we’re almost there.” He points ahead. The multilayered, cubical, adobe homes and businesses have broken glass running along the walls that divide the patios of their respective residences.

“Never been here before. Anything I should know about the town?” Asks Barbara.

He turns towards her. “Yeah. There’s been a lot of mercenaries and bounty hunters gathering here recently.”

“Is that so?” Barbara keeps looking ahead.

“It’s got the whole town talking. The bounty hunters arrived first, there aren’t a lot of rich families here, and since everyone is assuming that one of them is the target, they hired mercenaries to look after them.”

“What made these rich people so paranoid?”

“There are a lot of people that oppose president Day in this town.”

“All over Aztlan.”

“All of the rich families in town now say they oppose his rule, but they were his biggest fans during the last election.”

As they enter the town, a lot of eyes turn towards their direction, once they recognize Juanito, some expressions change, and some even give a smile and a wave. Barbara notices a lot of armed men and women, most of whom don’t seem to be blending in too well with the locals.

Juanito tells Barbara how to get to the market, where multiple tianguis have been set up, selling anything from flowers, fruit and vegetables, to trade goods.

“We can set shop anywhere there’s room.” Advises Juanito. “Someone will come by at around late noon to charge the regular fee for trading.”

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They find a vacant lot, Barbara sets a table made of assemblable parts she had in her wagon, Juanito ties his hog nearby, giving the animal a warm hug.

“I hope no one buys you, buddy.”

Barbara smiles at the interaction. “He doesn’t have a name, does he?” She asks.

“Chicharron, but I just call him Chicho.” Chicho snorts at the mention of his name, nodding his head at Barbara as if greeting her.

Again, Juanito and his hog amuse Barbara, she then turns her attention towards the crowd, amongst the shoppers at the market, she differentiates the locals from the swords for hire. The aura of arrogance the mercs and bounty hunters carry set them apart from the more convivial residents of Ypeuhcalan. She knows that the outsiders are all here for the same thing.

Some of the mercs do make eye contact with her, eyeing her sword, looking away when they notice Barbara staring back at them, assessing them herself. Barbara knows better than to engage with them directly, allowing them to think whatever they want so long as she keeps a low profile.That is until she's approached by an older man, completely grayed out beard, athletic build, in stylishly embroidered clothes.

“Looks like you’ve made more friends.” Smiles the man. His long, silver hair tied into a ponytail, and his golden eyes underneath his thick brow glimmer as the sun shines on him directly.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize you, friend." A hint of condescension in her tone.

The man snickers. "I was there at the battle of Pillotlan.”

“Which side?” Asks Barbara.

The man laughs off the question, turning his attention to Juanito and his hog. “How much for the pig?”

Before Juanito can answer, Barbara interjects. “He’s not for sale.”

“No? What a shame, he looks delicious.” The man walks away from their stand, a cocky smile on his face as he gives Barbara a final glance over his shoulder. “Have a nice day, greatest swordmaster alive.” He mocks, and with that he fades into the crowd.

Barbara grits her teeth, turning to Juanito. “Juanito, I’ll give you three silvers, and you can even keep your friend.”

Juanito’s eyes light up as he’s handed the coins, Chicho gives an enthusiastic squeal.

“In exchange for information.”

“I knew you weren’t just a merchant.” He proclaims.

“Whatever.” She kneels down to look him in the eyes, lowering her voice. “I’m here looking for acolytes.”

“For what?”

“Residents that would have moved here not too long ago, relatively secretive, with a metropolitan attitude about them.”

Juanito thinks for a moment. “That describes a lot of the wealthy people around here, but all of them have lived here their whole lives, for a bunch of generations.”

“Anyone that might fit that description, regardless of wealth, especially within the last fifteen years?”

“I’m twelve.”

“Work with me Juanito, this is important.”

“You just want to kill these people and leave.”

“No, I need them alive.”

“Why?”

“Juanito, please.”

Juanito thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t know what you want from me. I just came to town to sell my pig. Thanks for the silver, I’ve never seen this much money in my life, but I don’t know how to help you.”

Barbara sighs, lowering her voice. “How about anyone that doesn’t worry as much about the night?”

Juanito lowers his gaze, hesitant to speak. “There’s a place not far from here.”

“Tell me where.”

“The place is cursed, even the night beasts don’t go near.”

“Yes!” Barbara looks over her shoulder to make sure no one is listening, speaking in a low voice. “Please tell me where this farm is, Juanito.”

Barbara leaves Juanito to take care of the stand, promising to let him keep any money he makes for himself. She meanwhile makes her way through a faint dirt road, following the directions Juanito had provided.

After about two hours of walking, she doubts finding anything of interest, until she crosses paths with an elaborate iron incense burner, spherical in shape, detailed in design, held up by an iron rod, she recognizes the scent. Acolytes are nearby. She finds the thick, tall trees that stand out from the rest, those she was told to look out for. Making her way through the dense brush, she finds an opening, green fields behind the end of the forest wall.

She approaches a wide open space. Looking around, she notices four massive obsidian pillars, each seemingly placed in a cardinal direction. At the center, tall walls made of smoothe stone, encircling an elaborate garden at the center.

The first thing Barbara notices, walking past the tall thick walls, within, are strange shaped pools of orange flowers, and the pungent odor of death in the air. She feels a prickling sensation crawl up her spine, tightening her muscles. Finally noticing the seven hooded acolytes, sitting in a circle, each at the center of their respective odd-shaped pool of flowers.

“The phoenix of the glass desert has joined us in our meditation.” A voice bounces off the walls, making it difficult to distinguish from which of the acolytes these words came.

“What is it you seek here?” Asks another voice, again, echoing within the structure. “What do you want from us?”

“I’m looking for a way to finally die.” Responds Barbara.

“I can help with that.” Chimes in a voice, the source coming from behind.

Barbara turns to find an elderly boot clad woman wearing a straw sombrero, her leather coat hanging at mid-thigh length, leaning on what appears to be a cane in her hands.

“Ruth Novak.” Gnarls Barbara.