103 — Paxilche

At the sight of Tlexnín being forcibly detained, I can feel the storm raging within me. The sky growls like a jaguar, reflecting my brewing anger. As if I couldn’t distrust them more, the Auilqa have gone and done this? Was this part of the agreement between Xolotzi and Walumaq?

Saqatli must see the fury building within me, because he rushes to my side and places a consoling hand on my arm. Something brushes up against my leg, startling me. I quickly recognize the turquoise tail, watching the boy’s ocelot companion nuzzling my calf.

I take a few steps back, pointing accusingly at the Auilqa boy. “This is the fault of your people!” The boy’s eyes grow large with fear, and he holds up his hands to try and placate me. But I persist. “You’re in on this scheme, aren’t you? Sent by your ruler to spy on us! To lull me and Walumaq into a false sense of security, all while he sends his goons to–“

“Paxilche,” the boy says inside my head in that disturbing way he does. There’s a slight wonder in his voice, or whatever it’s called when he speaks inside my mind. “Your eyes… They’re glowing white!”

‘Glowing white’? What does he even mean? Besides his amber-colored eyes, Walumaq’s blue eyes, and the green eyes of the Auilqa, I hadn’t thought anyone’s eyes could be anything but brown.

Walumaq approaches, looking at me with expressed caution and worry. “What is… happening to you? Why do you look…” She can hardly finish her thought, switching between staring at me and looking up toward the darkening sky as though she’s piecing together the series of events.

“Is this,” she points up to the night sky shrouded by an impending storm, “you’re doing? Are you about to strike down the Auilqa?!” She sounds shocked, mortified, exasperated. She clutches my arm tightly as if squeezing the juice out of a lucuma. “By the sea, Paxilche!”

“They’re about to do gods know what to an ally!” I shout, incensed that Walumaq thinks I’m in the wrong all of a sudden. “We’re just going to allow this to happen?”

“Of course, we’re not allowing it to happen,” she says. “But we’re not going to go on some senseless rampage because of it. We need to be strategic, before we have an entire nation at war with the eight of us! Your recent destructive attitude has been shocking, and, frankly, revolting. What has gotten into you? Who are you becoming?”

I look around at the scene, noticing how the Auilqa appear to have the numbers over the remaining Ulxa warriors. It’s possible I could have succeeded in smiting them all, but after taking a few breaths, I realize now that, perhaps, I may have endangered more lives than saved them with my possible actions.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” I begrudgingly concede, casting my eyes downward.

“You weren’t thinking,” Walumaq scolds, “and that is the problem. You need to control your powers and your anger.”

Still emotional from seeing Tlexnín’s capture, I sound more intense than I intend. “But this wasn’t what was agreed upon! They can’t get away with this!”

“They won’t,” she responds, “but violence will only create more violence. We must be smart about this, not merely attacking everything in sight. Otherwise, we’re no better than the Timuaq.”

I slump my shoulders. “I… I apologize, Walumaq.” But before I can finish, she brusquely walks away toward the Ulxa temple. Saqatli frowns, then follows closely behind her, along with Noch.

The Auilqa bind the Ulxa warriors and villagers, then lead them off, likely to some prison encampment. Those who resist find a spear driven straight through their stomachs without hesitation, left to bleed out upon the ashes of their home village. Recalling how we were initially treated, the Auilqa are prepared to inflict a dismal and despairing scene upon the people of Analoixan, one in which the captives will be brutally mistreated for being viewed as ‘lesser’.

The lesser of two savages, I think to myself.

I search for Pomaqli and the Sanqo warriors, looking for the distinct traits in which to identify them — and among the nearly naked Auilqa, wearing only their loin cloths and war paint on their bodies, my companions should be fairly easy to locate. Yet there is not a visible trace of them. I grow curious as to where they went, wondering if they’ve been lumped into the group of Ulxa being captured, or perhaps they’ve run off to regroup after witnessing the disastrous aftermath that occurred once we vanquished the ancient beast that sprung up from the ground by the hands of the Eye in the Flame.

I’m left to stand alone, in the middle of a ruined Ulxa city. I look down at my hands, the instruments of both chaos and destruction. With all that’s taken place since Auilqa, I haven’t reflected upon coming into these powers.

I remember when I first felt the surge of power coursing through me, like molten metal breaking free from its mold. The ability to summon storms, to command the skies, it felt like a blessing and a curse all at once. I remember the sky darkening as if reflecting my anger, my frustration. It was exhilarating, intoxicating even, but also terrifying. The storm I created didn’t just respond to my will — it seemed to feed off my emotions, growing wilder and more uncontrollable.

Why me? And why now? Was this power always inside me, waiting to be unleashed, or did something in Auilqa awaken it? This was never something I asked for, even upon witnessing Walumaq’s abilities on the roads in Tapeu. The questions gnaw at me, each one a thorn in my mind, pricking at my sense of self and purpose.

My thoughts drift to Limaqumtlia. Did he possess powers, too? Is this why Saxina had my brother killed? Did he know about these powers within me, or was it something more sinister, a way to ensure I stayed silent, stayed weak? I remember my brother’s face, the way he looked at me with both pride and worry. He wanted something better for me, for all of us in Pichaqta, in Qiapu. And now, in his absence, I’m left struggling to understand what it all means.

Walumaq’s words echo in my head. You need to control your powers and your anger. She’s right, of course. My emotions are a tempest, and my powers are the storm they conjure. I glance up at the dark sky, feeling weighed down by my anger, my fear, and my sorrow. I want to strike down the Auilqa, to avenge Tlexnín, to protect those who can’t protect themselves. But what if I had? What if my storm had raged out of control, harming those I sought to save?

I think of Walumaq. I think of her strength, her wisdom. She’s always been a beacon, guiding me, grounding me, reminding me of who I am beyond the storm. I care for her deeply, more than I’ve allowed myself to admit sometimes. She believes in me, sees something in me that I often fail to see in myself. The thought of her seeing me as a threat, as a danger, is almost too much to bear. I don’t want to disappoint her, but I’m afraid of this power, afraid of what it makes me capable of. Can I control it? Should I even try?

What sense can I make of these past few moon cycles, the battles, the losses, the fleeting moments of peace? Each encounter, each struggle, has tested me, pushing me to my limits. Now, standing amidst the ruins, I question everything. What understanding can I make of my power? Will it save those I love, or will it destroy them?

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, noting how the scent of blood intertwines with the thick smoke surrounding us. I try to center myself, forcing myself to focus on the present. I clench my fists, feeling the storm within me slowly subsiding. I need to understand this power, to master it, and to not let it master me. I need to find a way to use it without becoming a monster, without losing myself.

Vowing to control my abilities, I seek out Walumaq. My path to the temple is dimly illuminated by the smoldering heaps of rubble and ruined houses that are slowly extinguishing. A gentle rain trickles from the starless sky, and I question if this is from my doing, seeing as I genuinely wish to help put out the fires, or if it’s by happenstance. Perhaps it’s a bit of both.

Flanking either side of the demolished entrance that leads to the Ulxa pyramid, two brooding Auilqa guards watch me approach. They eye me suspiciously, likely wary of what I could potentially do to them. It would be easy to summon bolts of lightning, to strike them where they stand. But I resolve that I’m above using such tactics here — I need not resort to those means… yet.

I give them a knowing nod, never once breaking my stride. For a brief moment, they glance at one another, uncertain about what to do. Ultimately, they do nothing; without making any sudden movements, they allow me to pass unimpeded. I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding as I walk by them, sighing in relief that matters didn’t have to come to blows.

The Ulxa temple has remained undisturbed. The statues and bronze pillars still stand tall, the embellishments of turquoise and jade remain in place. No destruction has occurred here, not even by the occupiers, the Auilqa. Although their code is questionable, at best, I’m surprised to see that even they respect the sacred ground upon which they walk.

My gandering and gawking ceases the moment I hear the shouts. Several people are yelling at once, all in the disjointed language of the Auilqa. I walk through the winding pathway that leads to the tremendous courtyard surrounding the pyramid, the shouts getting louder as I draw near. My stomach twists into knots as I begin to fear for Walumaq’s safety.

Unsurprisingly, standing before the tall Auilqa figure wearing a headdress adorned with condor feathers, is Walumaq. Saqatli and his animal companion are at her side, while Pomaqli and the four Sanqo warriors are a few paces behind her, weapons at the ready. The Auilqa man stands on the lower step of the pyramid, surrounded by over two dozen warriors to either side of him, the butt of their spears planted into the ground. Though her back is mostly to me, I can see her chin raised in defiance, her gaze never leaving that of the leader.

The Auilqa warriors suddenly draw their weapons, tips pointed at me. The men and women in the back are positioned and ready to hurl their spears. Though I know I don’t need to hold a weapon to be a danger to these treacherous scum, I raise my hands, hoping to show I’m no threat. The others turn around, and either they’re not alarmed to see me or they mask it well — either way, their faces show indifference to my arrival.

I place myself next to Pomaqli, who looks unamused to see me. “How kind of you to join the rest of us, Paxilche. Have you finished pouting?”

Ignoring the verbal jab, I ask him about Walumaq, “How is she faring?”

“I don’t speak Auilqa, but it doesn’t sound good,” he states.

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything — the Auilqa always sound angry,” I note, trying to lighten the otherwise tense mood.

Pomaqli doesn’t have any patience for my attempt at humor. “If Walumaq says the wrong thing, they’ll behead Tlexnín before we step foot off these grounds. From what I’ve gathered, they’re prepared to execute her as a sacrifice, these savages.”

“They can’t do that!” I exclaim, perhaps a little too loudly, as the proceedings appear to stop after I make the remark. Walumaq glares at me — the angriest I’ve ever seen her. I hold my tongue, though reluctantly, as I’m not expecting any progress to be made from dealing with this self-assured Auilqa leader, who glowers at those of us standing before him.

The ‘dialogue’ between Walumaq and this Auilqa leader goes on for quite some time, though I can tell by Walumaq’s posture that it isn’t productive. Even without knowing what’s being said, the proceedings frustrate me. The man shouts down at her, Saqatli translates his condescending words, then Walumaq makes a declarative statement that is translated by the boy, only for the cycle to repeat itself.

I lean in, hoping to catch a little of what’s being exchanged between Saqatli and Walumaq — as though my physical proximity will allow me to better receive a discussion made through their minds. Whether the maneuver actually works or it’s from merely homing in on the conversation, their voices gradually morph from being murky and mumbled, as if they were speaking underwater, to a clarity that resonates within my own head.

“He is not wavering from his position,” I hear a boy’s voice say. “He is insistent that the Ulxa leader remains in their captivity due to her potential for endangering the Auilqa.”

“But these were not the terms that were agreed upon,” Walumaq’s voice says, notably irritated. But she tries her best to remain calm, despite events working against her. “We can’t allow them to execute Tlexnín at any cost.”

“So, what do we do?” Saqatli asks trepidatiously. “They are planning the sacrificial ceremony soon! They view her death as an offering of the highest honor to the gods, since she is a ruler of a rival faction.”

I see Walumaq pause, her mind racing in contemplation of what to do. With my mind’s ear, I hear her muttering indiscernibly, working through her plan in her thoughts. What could she possibly be plotting? For me, I would storm their makeshift prison and, though I may disagree with her people’s cultures entirely, I’d free the Ulxa leader. The Auilqa have betrayed our trust, and in my mind, they’re not worthy of respect in kind.

But Walumaq is more calculating than that. Given her background as the daughter of nobles, she’s likely to be more… ‘diplomatic’, let’s say. Her approach will be more refined, knowing the nuances of political maneuvering. Though the Auilqa have wronged the Ulxa and betrayed us, taking a moment to reflect upon the matter rather than react emotionally, I can understand that this development is more complex, requiring a more complex solution.

“We propose a grander ceremony,” Walumaq finally says, her voice steady and commanding, unlike that of Saqatli, who appears either uncertain or apprehensive of what’s being said. “One that truly honors the gods and showcases our unity. My Sanqo and the Qiapu have fought alongside the brave Auilqa in a noble battle, and it would be our honor to be a part of the ceremony.”

The Auilqa leader appears displeased by this, exchanging glances with his neighboring warriors. Then again, to me, he always looks displeased. Either way, they deliberate between themselves for a moment, before the leader ultimately responds.

“He says there is no need,” the boy translates, sounding hesitant and nervous. “He says the contributions of the Sanqo and Qiapu have been recognized by the Great Xolotzi and the Auilqa people. He says your factions will always have the Auilqa’s respect. He does not sound like he is going to give in, Walumaq.”

Walumaq steps forward, undeterred. The Auilqa warriors do not flinch, continuing to stand at attention. “This rushed execution will not do justice to the gods’ expectations. Although we respect the honor bestowed upon us by the Auilqa, we, too, would like to honor the gods. For we seek their recognition and blessing — from bringing the Ulxa leader to you, after all — so that our factions may be as prosperous as the Auilqa.”

Saqatli translates her words with urgency. The Auilqa leader pauses, considering her proposal. A murmur spreads through the gathered Auilqa, and finally, the leader nods. “He says, ‘very well’,” Saqatli translates. “He says that this will provide them with the opportunity for a grand feast, one that is truly worthy of a blessing from the gods. He says you have until dawn, when the sacrifice of the Ulxa… heathen… will be the gift to the gods.”

Walumaq smiles warmly, an act I find slightly disturbing. “We are grateful for the honor you bestow upon us. May our factions be united and blessed by the gods for thousands of harvests.”

They bow deeply, and eventually the two sides part ways. When Walumaq, Saqatli, and Noch return to us, her face is grave and her eyes grow wide with urgency, as though she signals us to leave with haste. We do as she intends, surrounding her as we depart the pyramid grounds.

When we’re finally a fair distance away from having any Auilqa warrior present, I express my extreme objection to Walumaq. “We’re not only going to allow this barbaric ceremony to happen, but now we’re going to participate in it?! This is ludicrous!” The imposing Sanqo warriors glare at me disapprovingly, surrounding me intimidatingly. It’s then that I realize I have grabbed Walumaq’s arm with a severe intensity, a manner I wasn’t intending. I immediately release her, taking a few steps back and away from them.

“We cannot allow them to go through with–“

“Clearly,” Pomaqli interrupts me, his voice hinting to me that I should stand down from my confrontational actions, “the Sanqo princess has a plan regarding the Ulxa leader, if you’d just give her a moment.”

Walumaq nods, to which Naqispi remarks, “the impatient Qiapu man does make a fair point, princess: what is our intentions in joining their sava– I mean, their traditional ceremony?”

“I sense a daring rescue,” Chiqama says, unamused. “One that will put our lives in danger, no less.”

“You’re more than permitted to leave,” Atoyaqtli states. “In fact, if you want to travel back to Haqiliqa and inform Siunqi why you’ve returned with no princess, be my guest. My only request is that you ensure a witness is present who can recount your babbling excuses upon my return.”

The grizzled Sanqo leader narrows his eyes and scowls, making sure to address each other Sanqo present. “You just survived the worst assault since the War of Liberation, battling creatures only spoken of as legends, against an enemy as ruthless as the Timuaq. Yet you’re cowering at the thought of freeing a wrongly imprisoned ruler? Why? Because she’s Ulxa? Because you find them lesser, with no evidence to support your biases? Because you disagree with their traditions? Do you know what the Sanqo used to do before the arrival of the Timuaq? Nine hells! Do you know what I had done while you were still in swaddling clothes? Whatever your thoughts on the culture and traditions of the Ulxa, they do not deserve to suffer such betrayal after valiantly defending their home land from evil.”

“So we’re left to fix the princess’ mistake?” Naqispi retorts, shaking his head in disgust. “Because she was misguided and naïvely believed the Auilqa could serve as allies, now we have to clean up her mess?”

Atoyaqtli’s gaze hardens. “We do not serve the princess out of convenience or when it suits us. We serve her because she is our leader, and it is our duty. Our mission is clear. The Auilqa have betrayed our trust, and as such, we do not abandon those in need. The Ulxa leader fought valiantly against a common enemy. If we allow her to be sacrificed, we betray the very principles we fought for during the War of Liberation.”

He takes a step closer to Naqispi, his voice dropping to a low, aggressive tone. “We do not turn our backs on our allies, no matter how dire the situation. This is a test of our resolve and honor. The princess has made a calculated decision, and we must support her. Our objective is clear: rescue Tlexnín and ensure the Auilqa understand the consequences of their treachery. Complaining about the situation will not change it. Action will.”

Turning to address the rest of us, Atoyaqtli continues, “We have faced worse odds and greater threats. This is no different. We do not cower, we do not shirk our responsibilities, and we do not question our loyalty in times of crisis. We rise to the occasion.”

Naqispi winces, as though the idea behind Atoyaqtli’s words sting. He snorts, then nods his head in acceptance. With that, we turn to Walumaq, waiting expectantly for her to impart her plan upon us. She gestures her thanks to the trusted general.

Walumaq gets right to it, addressing us all. “We need to determine where she’s being held, how many Auilqa warriors are watching her, and the layout of where she’s being kept. I trust you all to use your expertise to discover any weaknesses, any vulnerabilities we can exploit. Paxilche, Saqatli, and I will eavesdrop on their leadership, seeing if we can find out if there are plans for reinforcements and what their next moves are, now that Analoixan is under their control.” She looks up at the sky, then finishes her thought. “It’s already well into the night, so we don’t have much time until dawn. We reconvene here as soon as possible.”

Everyone nods, accepting this plan. Without hesitation, we all begin to move out, hoping to learn what we must, and quickly. Saqatli and I stay back, ready to escort Walumaq to a position near the Auilqa leader, to figure out what they’re planning.

As we depart, Atoyaqtli places a hand on my chest, stopping me for a brief, private word. “Your anger is justified, but direct it where it belongs — towards our true enemies, not our allies.”

I nod, finally accepting and embracing this sentiment. Though his words earlier may have been spoken to Naqispi and his Sanqo warriors, they were words I took to heart, as well. I may have my disagreements with how the Ulxa conduct themselves, but that is no reason for their leader to be imprisoned and ultimately sacrificed after defending her home. If any actions should be declared ‘savage’, it should be that of the Auilqa, who, although they fought with us to vanquish the Eye in the Flame, leaped upon an opportunity when their rival was at their most vulnerable. As Atoyaqtli said, this is not what we fought for in the War of Liberation. To be fair, the Auilqa themselves didn’t fight in the war, and as such, their values should be the ones in question.

We gather just outside the encampment constructed by the Auilqa. Our group crouches down low and looks out upon the makeshift fortifications the invaders have erected. The area is barely illuminated by a series of torches, creating plenty of shadowy corners for us to hide within. Utilizing the large, fanning palm tree leaves and the fallen timber that somehow hasn’t been destroyed, they’ve also crafted improvised homes that will suffice while they occupy the city — hopefully temporarily.

Along with the others, I gaze intently upon the location, studying it closely. It’s just as the others had described it when we met up to solidify our plan. The barricades have been constructed quickly, leaving large gaps between the walls. The numbers of acting guards are sparse, and they’re positioned haphazardly, creating numerous weak points for us to infiltrate. I agree with Walumaq’s sentiments, wishing they were more clustered together so that, when she and I enact our part of the plan, more warriors would be influenced.

“How did it go with your…” Pomaqli hesitates his mumbled question to me, using his head to nod and point at Saqatli, “mission?”

“It was a bit revolting, to be honest,” I tell him slightly under my breath. “The boy was using… bats.” Pomaqli gives me a confused look. “He talks to animals, but I hadn’t thought of… bats.” Just saying the word makes me want to wretch.

“Well, my understanding is that the Auilqa, Ulxa, and even the Achope revere the creatures,” Pomaqli informs me. “I’ll stick to condors and eagles, thanks.”

Walumaq gets our attention, then crouches low as we huddle around her. She begins to speak in a hushed tone, but my thoughts are stuck on what happened during our reconnaissance mission. While we waited on Saqatli to put the creatures into position to listen in, I felt myself trying to talk to Walumaq, wanting to apologize for my brashness and losing control of my emotions. Yet every time I attempted to speak, I found the words caught in my throat. When I was finally able to, my effort came out as a croak, causing her to shush and scold me for nearly breaking Saqatli’s concentration. Disappointing her once again, I resorted to keeping my mouth shut.

“So the sneaky scum had planned this all along?”

Naqispi’s whispered words snap my attention back to the discussion. Walumaq winces. “It appears they had come to this plan while we were off fighting Quetzelotl. If we survived, they would use us to infiltrate Analoixan, letting us do most of the fighting, and they would do just enough to give the appearance they were fighting alongside us. They’ve already dispatched messengers to send word of their successful capture of Analoixan.”

“We cleared the way for their takeover,” Pomacha grunts, slamming a fist into his open palm in frustration. We collectively shush him, hoping the loud smack didn’t alert anyone to our presence.

“It took us nearly a moon cycle to get here from there,” Atoyaqtli reminds us. “It will be some time before they return, likely with reinforcements. Did they have any plans in place, should they be successful?”

“Fortunately, no,” I finally chime in. “From what we could hear, they were uncertain what the result of the battle would be, and whether they would need to form an alliance with the Eye in the Flame, should those cultists be the winners instead. It seems to me that they would declare it a victory as long as Analoixan fell, regardless of how.”

Pomacha snarls and punches his palm once again. We shush him once again, then look around frantically to make sure our position hasn’t been compromised. Ultimately, though, a silence overcomes us as we absorb the news. I should’ve known something was suspicious the moment Xolotzi became suddenly amenable to Walumaq’s wishes. How could we not see this coming?

There’s nothing we can do about it now. We just have to flawlessly execute the plan we discussed earlier. Along with the others, my focus is solely on freeing Tlexnín.

I spot the three guards standing in front of where the Ulxa leader is being kept. The weapons they hold are down at their sides, and their wooden shields are well out of reach, strewn about the ground among the splintered wood that once made up Ulxa homes. Their posture is relaxed, casually chatting to one another without a care in the world.

With an exchanged nod, I raise my hands to the night sky. The clouds had parted once the battle ended, yet I’m able to pull them back over Analoixan. I feel an indescribable energy tingling at my fingertips as the light storm slowly swirls above us. It isn’t much, but we don’t need much; just enough for Walumaq to create a fog that will hide the presence of the others as they sneak into the fortification.

The fog rolls in, silent and thick. It weaves through the shattered remnants of Ulxa homes, creeping over the ground and rising to obscure the guards’ vision. Walumaq molds the fog with delicate precision, shaping it to cloak our warriors.

They move like shadows within the mist, stealthily and unseen. Atoyaqtli leads the way, while Pomacha and Naqispi flank him. Chiqama and Pomaqli bring up the rear, weapons drawn and ready to protect their companions. The fog makes them specters, slipping past the guards who remain oblivious to the danger drawing close to them.

Before he even realizes the threat, the first guard falls silently after a swift strike from Pomaqli renders him unconscious. Atoyaqtli and Naqispi efficiently take down the remaining two, their forms blending seamlessly with the mist. There’s a brief moment of stillness, as the fog swallows the sounds of the guards’ collapse. Soon, our warriors return to signal that the path is clear.

We move quickly, shrouded mercifully by the mist, as we close in on Tlexnín’s prison. As Walumaq and I hold our positions and maintain the veil, I watch our warriors work with urgency. Tlexnín is startled, and her head whips up to see what’s happening, eyes in wide alarm. She relaxes once she can verify it’s us through the dense fog, breathing a visible sigh of relief.

They hurry to dismantle the barriers, but once we enter the domain, they suddenly halt the moment they arrive at the Ulxa leader. Our warriors look at one another, perplexed. Then, I see what is causing the confusion: thick ropes bind her wrists, and her feet are placed in heavy wooden stocks, securing her in place. She looks at up with a desperate desire for us to free her.

Our warriors spring into action, muscles straining as Tlexnín’s constraints squeal and creak. Pomaqli’s fingers work quickly at the knots, while Pomacha and Naqispi stand guard. Their eyes scan the perimeter with every sense on high alert while searching search for a tool, anything sharp enough to sever the ropes.

Pomaqli curses under his breath at the unforgiving ropes, and Atoyaqtli joins him, examining the stocks. The wood is thick and sturdy, not something that can be easily broken. Tlexnín winces as the ropes bite into her wrists, but she doesn’t cry out. Her gaze flicks to me, a silent plea mingled with the fierce resilience of a leader. We’re here. Hold on.

Time stretches, each passing moment is like a drawn-out beat of my heart. Atoyaqtli and Chiqama leverage their weight against the stocks, trying to force them open. It groans in protest, but they press on, sweat mixing with the mist on their brows.

At last, Naqispi finds a jagged piece of metal, likely discarded from some past skirmish. He hands it to Pomaqli, who starts furiously sawing at the ropes. The rough edge digs in, fraying the thick strands. Walumaq’s grip on my arm tightens; we’re all bound by the same urgent need to succeed.

Finally, the ropes give way. Pomaqli pulls them loose from Tlexnín’s wrists. Then, the stocks break open with a splintering crack, and the Ulxa leader’s legs are freed. Tlexnín stumbles forward, relief flooding her face. But it’s short-lived.

It’s as if the air itself changes, shifts. The fog starts to disperse, despite my best efforts to maintain it, and a chill seeps into my bones. Then, from the dark shadows of the night, movement catches my eye, and they emerge.

I turn to see the imposing figure of an Ulxa shaman, tattoos winding like serpents across his bare chest and arms, symbols and patterns connected by crisscrossing lines. Pendants of bone and jade jostle around his neck, forming some sinister rhythm. Flanked by dozens of Auilqa warriors, they form a hostile, unbroken line.

The shaman’s eyes fix onto ours, dark and unreadable. He raises a hand, and the warriors halt, poised and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.