With the devastation all around us after the ferocious attack by zealots of the Eye in the Flame, I can see a fierce resolve in the eyes of both Paxilche and Pomaqli, eager to uncover the truth behind the recent events. While the guards of the palace survey the destruction, we observe Saxina, the leader of the Qiapu designated ‘the Tempered’ by his people’s customs, who appears visibly distressed by the outcome. Once close friends with Saxina, Paxilche has detected a hint of subterfuge in the leader's demeanor and feels compelled to confront the man about his secrets. Although I would normally be opposed to such an action when there is seemingly more pressing matters to address, I feel that Paxilche may have an understanding into the person that could reveal the truth surrounding this assault.
Fires continue to be put out by the diligent guards, utilizing water from the reservoir to extinguish the flames. The bodies of the deceased are carried away, with the invaders purposely separated from the others—and, I would argue, handled with seemingly less care. Others begin clearing the rubble, and though I am greatly appreciative of their efforts, I’m surprised and impressed to see them working so industriously at this late time of the night. The work required to repair the palace grounds will be long and tiresome, but the men appear committed to undoing the damage the cultists have done.
As we approach the Qiapu leader, he inclines his chin and looks upon us in an attempt to project an air of gallantry. To my astonishment, the nearby palace guards provide no protection, leaving Saxina exposed to the looming interrogation by Paxilche and Pomaqli. They approach him with an intensity that radiates from them like bolts of lightning.
“I believe it’s high time you provided answers, Tempered,” Paxilche declares with venom laced into every syllable of the leader’s title.
“What information are you keeping from us?” Pomaqli demands. “You know something that you’re refraining from telling us. What has you too filled with fear to reveal the truth?”
“I know not to what you refer,” the Tempered says, striving to mask the tremor in his voice while maintaining an air of authority. Paxilche is about to grab Saxina by the cape and practically strangle him, but Pomaqli restrains him just in time before he does something regretful.
“Don’t pretend to be coy with us,” Paxilche says. “You need to tell us everything now!” Thankfully, Pomaqli steps in to prevent Paxilche from marching up to Saxina and confronting him face to face.
“Tempered,” I say, hoping to intervene before we’re shut out by the Qiapu leader entirely and can no longer get answers, “anything you know about the assault can assist us greatly in defeating this threat. We have yet to venture beyond the palace grounds, but from what is clearly visible here, these invaders have caused serious damage. If they return, they will be more ferocious and unrelenting, I am certain.”
“There is much you don’t understand, young Sanqo princess,” he says, his eyes never once meeting mine.
“I have seen these people carry out a brutal punishment to those who they determine will stand in the way of their mission,” I say. “They subjected their defenseless victims to a savage execution, burning them alive in the middle of the streets for all to see. They are merciless in their pursuit to achieve their goals and must be stopped.”
Saxina considers this, but I can see that, despite wrestling with the matter internally, remaining silent on what he knows will ultimately win out. There’s a deep concern etched into his face, a pained expression indicating to me that he wants to say, but I suspect he fears the retribution that would come of it. Unfortunately, before I have a chance to appeal to his emotional side, Paxilche is overcome with emotion of his own, and the raging fire that burns within him can no longer be contained.
“You know exactly why this occurred, Saxina!” Paxilche shouts. “You know something that could’ve saved lives tonight, but you’ve willingly turned a blind eye to allow whatever that atrocity was to occur. The blood of this night is on your hands!”
"Do you truly think I would endanger the very heart of Qiapu, my home, and people?” Saxina fires back, his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed red. “You've seen the might and menace that the Ulxa pose, right before your eyes! They have been increasing in power, their magic now beyond comprehension, and we are running out of time. I've been doing everything in my power to protect our land, even if it means making hard decisions and alliances you might not understand."
As Pomaqli and Paxilche simultaneously ask what alliances Saxina has made, the leader continues as though not hearing their question, “You may not appreciate my ostentatious performance during the trials, but my feat was more than exhibitionistic. From the moment the title of 'Tempered' was bestowed upon me, signifying I was chosen by Aqxilapu Himself, I embraced my duty with unwavering dedication. Your grief over your brother's death doesn't blind me to your petty jealousy, Paxilche! Just because I've ascended to the throne doesn't mean you get to weave tales of betrayal.”
A silence falls over the four of us, and the men avert their gazes, their emotions simmering beneath the surface. Amidst the crumbling grandeur of the palace, I can't help but see a stark reflection of Paxilche and Saxina's disintegrating bond. Once as magnificent as these very walls, their friendship now appears just as fractured and in ruins. Learning of their dynamic through word of mouth is one thing, but I’m stunned to see how much it’s affecting our ability to stop the real threat to Pachil.
“Enough,” I say, disrupting the tense quiet. “Paxilche, your feelings for Saxina stem from recent events that have strained your bond, but our priority right now is not to dissect every grievance or rekindle disputes. We're here for answers. We're here because our people, our lands, are at stake. Saxina, regardless of the choices you've made, always remember the significance of your role to Qiapu. This moment demands unity and understanding, not hostility.”
Pomaqli and I look on as the two men let my words sink in. There’s a reluctance to allow the other one the grace of forgiveness, even temporarily, but it appears their guard is slowly, gradually, being brought down.
“Tempered,” Pomaqli says after the long pause, “thinking of the people of Pichaqta and Qiapu, our priority is to understand the events leading up to this assault and find a solution. Now, there is a piece in play that might help us, the amulet. You have spoken of its potential, but why is the origin of this amulet so crucial to your plans? What do you believe it can achieve?”
Saxina considers his answer for a long time before responding, “If that amulet holds even a fraction of the power rumored, it could be pivotal in defending Qiapu. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands. I won't pretend to understand its full significance, but we might be able to harness its power for the greater good."
“Is that all?” Paxilche finally says, clearly sounding annoyed. “Or are there other designs you have for it? Designs that perhaps align more with your personal ambitions than with the 'greater good’?”
“He makes a valid point,” I say in support. “Your words sound noble, Tempered, but vague promises won't serve us now. If you know of its potential, then share it. We cannot afford half-truths.”
“If there's a way to use this amulet to our advantage, then it's imperative we explore that path,” Pomaqli adds. “But we need to be transparent about our intentions and actions. How do you suggest we proceed?”
“I have already designated you three to embark on the quest to find out this knowledge and return to me with it,” Saxina says unemotionally. “You can now see why it’s imperative that you set off to find the answers, with no time to waste.”
“You knew about the amulet existing somewhere in the palace, didn’t you?” Paxilche says, following it with a scoff. He appears to have come to a realization, shaking his head as if he doesn’t want to believe it, but recognizing it’s the truth. “That’s why it was so easy for us to penetrate the palace walls. You figured we’d find a way to sneak in after being deterred at the entrance, and you set this whole scenario up to see if we’d stumble upon the amulet, then owe you a debt for trespassing. And this debt would be repaid by finding out the truth behind the amulet’s power. Unbelievable.”
Initially, Saxina is expressionless, hardly reacting to Paxilche’s claims as his eyes maintain a steady and unblinking gaze, along with his practiced ease and regal nonchalance in his posture and demeanor. But as Paxilche continues, the Qiapu ruler’s façade begins to crack. It begins subtly, as I start to notice a slight tightening at the corners of his mouth and the barest flicker of his eyelids, as if warding off an unpleasant thought. Then, his breathing becomes shallower and a flash of something darker appears in his eyes—a mix of annoyance and grudging respect, perhaps, or the realization that his secret is not as safe as he believed.
“Tempered, does he speak the truth?” I ask. Pomaqli, becoming increasingly curious, leans in closer, his presence a daunting and intimidating sight.
Saxina grows tense as the three of us converge on him, and I try to hold back the other two to prevent the situation from escalating further. Still, he clears his throat, then responds defensively, “I have shared everything I know and spoken honestly about my comprehension of what has unfolded and why. That you continue to interrogate me is–“
Just then, a fresh-faced guard rushes up to us, panic-stricken and out of breath before he interrupts. “M-M-My Tempered, there are citizens gathering by the entrance at the palace walls! They’re beginning to get restless, worried about the destruction the assault has caused and what this means for the safety of Pichaqta! What should we do?”
Saxina looks perturbed by this news, a slight grimace spans his face. Is this performative or genuine? It’s difficult for me to discern. However, after taking a long while to mull over the situation, he responds, “I will speak to the people and put their minds at ease.”
“Certainly convenient timing,” Paxilche says. We reflexively look toward the entrance and don’t see nor hear any commotion, however our view of it from here is severely hindered by the nearby buildings and destruction. Though I would agree with Paxilche in most circumstances, I find it hard to believe Saxina would fabricate such a disturbance to avoid addressing our concerns and questions.
As Saxina departs with the guard, I remind him, “We are not finished here, Tempered.” He slows his steps initially, then thinks better of responding to me and continues walking away.
Their fading footsteps bring my mind to a place on the Sanqo coast, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the shore providing a meditative tranquility. It was on the shoreline where I sat with our spirit speaker, Alsuaqu, by the water's edge, the salty breeze playing with my hair. In the distance, the vastness of the ocean stretched out, seemingly endless, allowing my thoughts to drift out to sea.
Beside me, Alsuaqu peered into the depths of the water, his long silver hair shimmering as though perpetually damp, and kept in place by a simple woven band of sea grass embedded with shells, while stubble flecked the rugged contours of his weather-worn face. The frayed edges of his long, white linen tunic fluttered gently. Cinched at his waist was a hemp rope, from which sacred herbs dangled and swayed by his sides. Around his neck dangled a pendant made of smoothed sea glass in sea foam green.
Typically, spirit speakers lead a quiet, solitary life, isolated from the village so as not to be overly influenced by the happenings taking place therein. However, Alsuaqu and I spent numerous evenings together after my studies, much to my parents’ chagrin; they feared I might travel down that path, which they didn’t deem suitable for the daughter of a Sanqo ruler. Yet he would teach me my most valuable lessons, about connecting to the sea and elements, centering myself and finding an inner peace during the most trying times.
I recall this particular day, my mind wandering to the two of us as we were meditating by the sea, the waves caressed the shoreline, pulling back and revealing the rocks and glistening shells. I decided to inquire about a particular reoccurring dream that had brought me a lot of distress. At the time, it had made little sense to me, yet it felt overwhelming and deeply concerning, and I couldn’t understand why I felt so troubled by the vision.
With my soft, young voice, I turned to him and said, “in my dreams, I see tides that reshape the shore, uncovering secrets hidden beneath the sands. Though the dream itself seems simple, every time I awaken from it, I'm consumed by a deep sense of dread and uncertainty. What does it mean to stand at the edge of such a tide?”
Alsuaqu took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. “Ah, the tides you speak of are not just of the sea, but of the very rhythm of life. The world is in constant motion, and in his endeavors, man often forgets that he is but a leaf carried by the vast river of existence.”
“So there’s more to the dream than simply shifting tides?” I asked, trying to wrap my young mind around the complex meaning of a simple vision. While spirit speakers are most renowned for the ceremonies they lead during celestial occurrences, they harness the ancestral wisdom acquired through their numerous communications with them. This profound connection is precisely why I turn to Alsuaqu whenever I crave his sage advice.
“The spirits speak of shifting tides,” Alsuaqu said. “Man is often like the water, driven by undercurrents of desires, some noble, some dark. But remember, the ocean's path can be deceptive. It can pull one into its depths without warning.”
I followed his gaze, trying to decipher his explanation. “Are you saying that someone close to me will be pulled under by their own desires?”
The spirit speaker picked up a wet stone and thoughtfully examined it, twisting it about with his fingers. “Storms are gathering, and they threaten to alter our world. But it's not just the visible dangers we must be wary of. Sometimes, it's the quiet, unseen intentions of man that pose the greatest threats. A storm that approaches silently is often the most perilous. So always be alert to the silence, and watch for those who might be tempted to join forces with the shadows for their own gains.”
“I'm afraid we find ourselves no further along than when we began,” Paxilche says, breaking me out of the spell of my reminiscing. “He’s never going to give any indication that he knows more about why this happened or what information he has on the Eye in the Flame.”
There’s something in the pause, in the silence, that causes Alsuaqu’s words to echo within me, warning me of the need to be wary of a storm that approaches silently. While the Eye in the Flame have been direct in their vicious attacks on innocent civilians and the Qiapu palace, perhaps it’s Saxina’s subtlety and discretion in action that is potentially more dangerous in his use of deception than what is openly visible or audible. I recognize that we might have sought answers in his explicit words, overlooking the subtle meanings nestled between them.
“Hasn’t he, though?” I say. “You mentioned how concerned he appeared after the assault—more than a simple shock that the event occurred, but that he was completely taken by surprise, as though he didn’t think something like this could happen to him. That, and he became incredibly defensive when you pressed him on having insight into the attack, as well as the amulet, using the same tired lines about you being upset over your brother’s murder, because he knows using the emotional circumstance will throw you off the path. Plus, he mentioned ‘making alliances we couldn’t understand’. What alliances could that be? I’m speculating here, but such alliances could involve a cult like the Eye in the Flame. He did say ‘their magic now beyond comprehension’. How was he aware of their power before tonight? Perhaps he worked with them for a personal cause of his. So while it appears he was successfully deflecting, I believe he has told us quite a lot.”
“You may be right,” Pomaqli says with astonishment coating his voice. “I hadn’t even thought of that! So, then, what should be our next step?”
“We need to find a connection between him and the Eye in the Flame,” I say. “There must be something in the palace, or even Pichaqta, that can tie him to the cult. Some evidence or some acquaintance, something.”
“Perhaps that’s where Amalu comes into play,” Paxilche says, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “When Pomaqli talked to the palace guards, they seem to implicate that it was Amalu who introduced the assassin into the ranks. He might be the pivotal connection.”
“And what about the amulet?” Pomaqli asks. “We have been designated a task to seek out the shaman in Qespina in order to search for its purpose and authenticity. If we fail, the Tempered has suggested our imprisonment.”
“That was before the chaos of the attack,” Paxilche says. “Saxina seems to have a lot on his plate at the moment. If he still cares about an amulet, he’s ignoring his duties as ruler of Qiapu.”
“But what if the amulet is part of his plans for Qiapu?” I posit. “He casually recounted the legend tied to the piece of jewelry, feigning mere curiosity while suggesting that the tales were nothing more than entertaining myths. However, as we’ve discussed and discovered, he will not be forthcoming with his plans. Treating his description of the amulet as we have with his other responses to our inquiries, it’s reasonable to assume he very much believes in and cares about the power of this amulet. I believe you may be correct in your deduction that he was aware of the amulet being in the palace, hoping we’d discover it, or possibly knew of it. Perhaps your brother knew what power the amulet possessed and wanted to protect it from falling into the wrong hands, and Saxina was aware of Limaqumtlia’s safeguard.”
“If that’s so, and assuming our other theories hold true,” Paxilche says, gradually drawing a conclusion, “we must prevent him from possessing the amulet.”
“But that would place us in prison,” Pomaqli says with concern. “Even if he set us up to owe him our servitude, not embarking on the quest he is sending us on could mean we face serious punishment that could have us kept away for life, or worse.”
“I believe we must risk the repercussions if it means keeping a potentially dangerous item out of the hands of potentially dangerous people,” I say. “Although Saxina’s intentions are somewhat unclear, we know the threats the Eye in the Flame pose not just to Qiapu, but to all of Pachil.”
“And imprisoning a princess of the Sanqo will instigate a war Saxina likely doesn’t want to start,” Paxilche says.
After making grumbled noises while he considers this, Pomaqli nods and says, “I may have a rudimentary understanding of diplomacy, but that seems to be the logical choice to me. Let us seek out Amalu and see what is revealed when we turn over that rock.”
With renewed vigor and determination, the three of us charge toward the palace to seek answers. Pomaqli’s fears echo in my mind as we walk, and I understand where the seasoned warrior loosely experienced with Qiapu politics would be concerned with our plan. Just moments earlier, we were enemies to the Tempered, having trespassed onto the grounds for our own purposes under his nose. This still concerns me, wondering just how effective and successful we will be in our pursuits. That we can continue to roam around the grounds freely is baffling to me, and the relaxed security begins to concern me more. What operation is Saxina running here? Or is he aware of our movements and has anticipated what our moves will be? Or is he so singularly focused that he's disregarded other pressing issues, risking them coming back to haunt him? It makes me appreciate the stories I’ve heard regarding Limaqumtlia, the slain Tempered, and how organized and focused he was in restoring Qiapu, now that I can see what it’s like when such a leader isn’t present.
The devastation has penetrated deep within the palace, knocking down numerous portions of the building into heaps of rubble. The once-majestic structure, a testament to Qiapu's grandeur, now lies in a state of ruin. Towering pillars that once stood proudly, holding aloft intricate carvings, are now broken stumps, jagged edges pointing accusingly to the night sky. Large sections of the ornate walls have crumbled, revealing the bare stones beneath. Delicate statues are now shattered, their fragmented pieces scattered amidst the debris. The grand archway of the main entrance is partially collapsed, making it appear as if the palace is weeping. Tendrils of smoke still rise from smoldering sections scattered throughout the grounds, a haunting reminder of the ferocity of the assault.
The palace guards and servants have already begun clearing rubble from the grounds, lifting the huge stones and carrying them away. The fact that these intruders could demolish such sturdy structures leaves a heavy pit in my stomach. While the stonework is rare in Sanqo, the palace—my home—was made from similar angularly-cut rocks that have withstood tremors and other attacks. How was the Eye in the Flame able to destroy walls previously thought to be indestructible? What capabilities do they possess that could bring about such destruction, and what other horrors could they achieve? I cast the thoughts from my mind, doing my best to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Shouts erupt down the hallway and around the corner, and a half dozen guards race toward the sound. Paxilche, Pomaqli, and I look at each other, concern washing over us, and we hurriedly follow the men through the corridor. Two servants bring buckets of water from the outdoors and run across our path and into a room off to the side. Is there more urgent destruction of the palace in need of attention?
As we peek around the entry to the room, flames are being extinguished throughout the chamber. Tapestries and clothing have become blackened and charred, and wooden furniture has been kissed by the fire. One of the torches that hangs around the perimeter of the wall is missing, nowhere to be found among the scattered belongings. Whose room is this, and was it the result of the assault on the palace, or is there something more sinister at play?
In the center of the room, a grotesque scene lies before us: entirely burnt to ash is the shape of a human body, sprawled out upon the floor. The stench of singed hair and skin permeates the air, causing me to gag at the scent of overcooked, rancid meat. The features are completely disfigured, the body parts that aren’t burnt appear melted and drooping like cloth sagging after being drenched by the rain. The head is bald and nearly scorched all the way to the skull, a petrified appearance of shock permanently fixed upon the face.
“Whose room does this belong to?” Pomaqli asks the young, panicked guards. He’s met with blank stares as the men struggle to process the scene. The lingering acrid smell is making it more and more difficult for me to remain in this room, and I’m uncertain whether or not I can be here for much longer.
He’s about to ask again when the most veteran among them, a warrior with barely more piercings than the rest, cooly says with a grimace, “This was the chamber of Advisor Amalu.”
With the devastation all around us after the ferocious attack by zealots of the Eye in the Flame, I can see a fierce resolve in the eyes of both Paxilche and Pomaqli, eager to uncover the truth behind the recent events. While the guards of the palace survey the destruction, we observe Saxina, the leader of the Qiapu designated ‘the Tempered’ by his people’s customs, who appears visibly distressed by the outcome. Once close friends with Saxina, Paxilche has detected a hint of subterfuge in the leader's demeanor and feels compelled to confront the man about his secrets. Although I would normally be opposed to such an action when there is seemingly more pressing matters to address, I feel that Paxilche may have an understanding into the person that could reveal the truth surrounding this assault.
Fires continue to be put out by the diligent guards, utilizing water from the reservoir to extinguish the flames. The bodies of the deceased are carried away, with the invaders purposely separated from the others—and, I would argue, handled with seemingly less care. Others begin clearing the rubble, and though I am greatly appreciative of their efforts, I’m surprised and impressed to see them working so industriously at this late time of the night. The work required to repair the palace grounds will be long and tiresome, but the men appear committed to undoing the damage the cultists have done.
As we approach the Qiapu leader, he inclines his chin and looks upon us in an attempt to project an air of gallantry. To my astonishment, the nearby palace guards provide no protection, leaving Saxina exposed to the looming interrogation by Paxilche and Pomaqli. They approach him with an intensity that radiates from them like bolts of lightning.
“I believe it’s high time you provided answers, Tempered,” Paxilche declares with venom laced into every syllable of the leader’s title.
“What information are you keeping from us?” Pomaqli demands. “You know something that you’re refraining from telling us. What has you too filled with fear to reveal the truth?”
“I know not to what you refer,” the Tempered says, striving to mask the tremor in his voice while maintaining an air of authority. Paxilche is about to grab Saxina by the cape and practically strangle him, but Pomaqli restrains him just in time before he does something regretful.
“Don’t pretend to be coy with us,” Paxilche says. “You need to tell us everything now!” Thankfully, Pomaqli steps in to prevent Paxilche from marching up to Saxina and confronting him face to face.
“Tempered,” I say, hoping to intervene before we’re shut out by the Qiapu leader entirely and can no longer get answers, “anything you know about the assault can assist us greatly in defeating this threat. We have yet to venture beyond the palace grounds, but from what is clearly visible here, these invaders have caused serious damage. If they return, they will be more ferocious and unrelenting, I am certain.”
“There is much you don’t understand, young Sanqo princess,” he says, his eyes never once meeting mine.
“I have seen these people carry out a brutal punishment to those who they determine will stand in the way of their mission,” I say. “They subjected their defenseless victims to a savage execution, burning them alive in the middle of the streets for all to see. They are merciless in their pursuit to achieve their goals and must be stopped.”
Saxina considers this, but I can see that, despite wrestling with the matter internally, remaining silent on what he knows will ultimately win out. There’s a deep concern etched into his face, a pained expression indicating to me that he wants to say, but I suspect he fears the retribution that would come of it. Unfortunately, before I have a chance to appeal to his emotional side, Paxilche is overcome with emotion of his own, and the raging fire that burns within him can no longer be contained.
“You know exactly why this occurred, Saxina!” Paxilche shouts. “You know something that could’ve saved lives tonight, but you’ve willingly turned a blind eye to allow whatever that atrocity was to occur. The blood of this night is on your hands!”
"Do you truly think I would endanger the very heart of Qiapu, my home, and people?” Saxina fires back, his brow furrowed and his cheeks flushed red. “You've seen the might and menace that the Ulxa pose, right before your eyes! They have been increasing in power, their magic now beyond comprehension, and we are running out of time. I've been doing everything in my power to protect our land, even if it means making hard decisions and alliances you might not understand."
As Pomaqli and Paxilche simultaneously ask what alliances Saxina has made, the leader continues as though not hearing their question, “You may not appreciate my ostentatious performance during the trials, but my feat was more than exhibitionistic. From the moment the title of 'Tempered' was bestowed upon me, signifying I was chosen by Aqxilapu Himself, I embraced my duty with unwavering dedication. Your grief over your brother's death doesn't blind me to your petty jealousy, Paxilche! Just because I've ascended to the throne doesn't mean you get to weave tales of betrayal.”
A silence falls over the four of us, and the men avert their gazes, their emotions simmering beneath the surface. Amidst the crumbling grandeur of the palace, I can't help but see a stark reflection of Paxilche and Saxina's disintegrating bond. Once as magnificent as these very walls, their friendship now appears just as fractured and in ruins. Learning of their dynamic through word of mouth is one thing, but I’m stunned to see how much it’s affecting our ability to stop the real threat to Pachil.
“Enough,” I say, disrupting the tense quiet. “Paxilche, your feelings for Saxina stem from recent events that have strained your bond, but our priority right now is not to dissect every grievance or rekindle disputes. We're here for answers. We're here because our people, our lands, are at stake. Saxina, regardless of the choices you've made, always remember the significance of your role to Qiapu. This moment demands unity and understanding, not hostility.”
Pomaqli and I look on as the two men let my words sink in. There’s a reluctance to allow the other one the grace of forgiveness, even temporarily, but it appears their guard is slowly, gradually, being brought down.
“Tempered,” Pomaqli says after the long pause, “thinking of the people of Pichaqta and Qiapu, our priority is to understand the events leading up to this assault and find a solution. Now, there is a piece in play that might help us, the amulet. You have spoken of its potential, but why is the origin of this amulet so crucial to your plans? What do you believe it can achieve?”
Saxina considers his answer for a long time before responding, “If that amulet holds even a fraction of the power rumored, it could be pivotal in defending Qiapu. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands. I won't pretend to understand its full significance, but we might be able to harness its power for the greater good."
“Is that all?” Paxilche finally says, clearly sounding annoyed. “Or are there other designs you have for it? Designs that perhaps align more with your personal ambitions than with the 'greater good’?”
“He makes a valid point,” I say in support. “Your words sound noble, Tempered, but vague promises won't serve us now. If you know of its potential, then share it. We cannot afford half-truths.”
“If there's a way to use this amulet to our advantage, then it's imperative we explore that path,” Pomaqli adds. “But we need to be transparent about our intentions and actions. How do you suggest we proceed?”
“I have already designated you three to embark on the quest to find out this knowledge and return to me with it,” Saxina says unemotionally. “You can now see why it’s imperative that you set off to find the answers, with no time to waste.”
“You knew about the amulet existing somewhere in the palace, didn’t you?” Paxilche says, following it with a scoff. He appears to have come to a realization, shaking his head as if he doesn’t want to believe it, but recognizing it’s the truth. “That’s why it was so easy for us to penetrate the palace walls. You figured we’d find a way to sneak in after being deterred at the entrance, and you set this whole scenario up to see if we’d stumble upon the amulet, then owe you a debt for trespassing. And this debt would be repaid by finding out the truth behind the amulet’s power. Unbelievable.”
Initially, Saxina is expressionless, hardly reacting to Paxilche’s claims as his eyes maintain a steady and unblinking gaze, along with his practiced ease and regal nonchalance in his posture and demeanor. But as Paxilche continues, the Qiapu ruler’s façade begins to crack. It begins subtly, as I start to notice a slight tightening at the corners of his mouth and the barest flicker of his eyelids, as if warding off an unpleasant thought. Then, his breathing becomes shallower and a flash of something darker appears in his eyes—a mix of annoyance and grudging respect, perhaps, or the realization that his secret is not as safe as he believed.
“Tempered, does he speak the truth?” I ask. Pomaqli, becoming increasingly curious, leans in closer, his presence a daunting and intimidating sight.
Saxina grows tense as the three of us converge on him, and I try to hold back the other two to prevent the situation from escalating further. Still, he clears his throat, then responds defensively, “I have shared everything I know and spoken honestly about my comprehension of what has unfolded and why. That you continue to interrogate me is–“
Just then, a fresh-faced guard rushes up to us, panic-stricken and out of breath before he interrupts. “M-M-My Tempered, there are citizens gathering by the entrance at the palace walls! They’re beginning to get restless, worried about the destruction the assault has caused and what this means for the safety of Pichaqta! What should we do?”
Saxina looks perturbed by this news, a slight grimace spans his face. Is this performative or genuine? It’s difficult for me to discern. However, after taking a long while to mull over the situation, he responds, “I will speak to the people and put their minds at ease.”
“Certainly convenient timing,” Paxilche says. We reflexively look toward the entrance and don’t see nor hear any commotion, however our view of it from here is severely hindered by the nearby buildings and destruction. Though I would agree with Paxilche in most circumstances, I find it hard to believe Saxina would fabricate such a disturbance to avoid addressing our concerns and questions.
As Saxina departs with the guard, I remind him, “We are not finished here, Tempered.” He slows his steps initially, then thinks better of responding to me and continues walking away.
Their fading footsteps bring my mind to a place on the Sanqo coast, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing on the shore providing a meditative tranquility. It was on the shoreline where I sat with our spirit speaker, Alsuaqu, by the water's edge, the salty breeze playing with my hair. In the distance, the vastness of the ocean stretched out, seemingly endless, allowing my thoughts to drift out to sea.
Beside me, Alsuaqu peered into the depths of the water, his long silver hair shimmering as though perpetually damp, and kept in place by a simple woven band of sea grass embedded with shells, while stubble flecked the rugged contours of his weather-worn face. The frayed edges of his long, white linen tunic fluttered gently. Cinched at his waist was a hemp rope, from which sacred herbs dangled and swayed by his sides. Around his neck dangled a pendant made of smoothed sea glass in sea foam green.
Typically, spirit speakers lead a quiet, solitary life, isolated from the village so as not to be overly influenced by the happenings taking place therein. However, Alsuaqu and I spent numerous evenings together after my studies, much to my parents’ chagrin; they feared I might travel down that path, which they didn’t deem suitable for the daughter of a Sanqo ruler. Yet he would teach me my most valuable lessons, about connecting to the sea and elements, centering myself and finding an inner peace during the most trying times.
I recall this particular day, my mind wandering to the two of us as we were meditating by the sea, the waves caressed the shoreline, pulling back and revealing the rocks and glistening shells. I decided to inquire about a particular reoccurring dream that had brought me a lot of distress. At the time, it had made little sense to me, yet it felt overwhelming and deeply concerning, and I couldn’t understand why I felt so troubled by the vision.
With my soft, young voice, I turned to him and said, “in my dreams, I see tides that reshape the shore, uncovering secrets hidden beneath the sands. Though the dream itself seems simple, every time I awaken from it, I'm consumed by a deep sense of dread and uncertainty. What does it mean to stand at the edge of such a tide?”
Alsuaqu took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. “Ah, the tides you speak of are not just of the sea, but of the very rhythm of life. The world is in constant motion, and in his endeavors, man often forgets that he is but a leaf carried by the vast river of existence.”
“So there’s more to the dream than simply shifting tides?” I asked, trying to wrap my young mind around the complex meaning of a simple vision. While spirit speakers are most renowned for the ceremonies they lead during celestial occurrences, they harness the ancestral wisdom acquired through their numerous communications with them. This profound connection is precisely why I turn to Alsuaqu whenever I crave his sage advice.
“The spirits speak of shifting tides,” Alsuaqu said. “Man is often like the water, driven by undercurrents of desires, some noble, some dark. But remember, the ocean's path can be deceptive. It can pull one into its depths without warning.”
I followed his gaze, trying to decipher his explanation. “Are you saying that someone close to me will be pulled under by their own desires?”
The spirit speaker picked up a wet stone and thoughtfully examined it, twisting it about with his fingers. “Storms are gathering, and they threaten to alter our world. But it's not just the visible dangers we must be wary of. Sometimes, it's the quiet, unseen intentions of man that pose the greatest threats. A storm that approaches silently is often the most perilous. So always be alert to the silence, and watch for those who might be tempted to join forces with the shadows for their own gains.”
“I'm afraid we find ourselves no further along than when we began,” Paxilche says, breaking me out of the spell of my reminiscing. “He’s never going to give any indication that he knows more about why this happened or what information he has on the Eye in the Flame.”
There’s something in the pause, in the silence, that causes Alsuaqu’s words to echo within me, warning me of the need to be wary of a storm that approaches silently. While the Eye in the Flame have been direct in their vicious attacks on innocent civilians and the Qiapu palace, perhaps it’s Saxina’s subtlety and discretion in action that is potentially more dangerous in his use of deception than what is openly visible or audible. I recognize that we might have sought answers in his explicit words, overlooking the subtle meanings nestled between them.
“Hasn’t he, though?” I say. “You mentioned how concerned he appeared after the assault—more than a simple shock that the event occurred, but that he was completely taken by surprise, as though he didn’t think something like this could happen to him. That, and he became incredibly defensive when you pressed him on having insight into the attack, as well as the amulet, using the same tired lines about you being upset over your brother’s murder, because he knows using the emotional circumstance will throw you off the path. Plus, he mentioned ‘making alliances we couldn’t understand’. What alliances could that be? I’m speculating here, but such alliances could involve a cult like the Eye in the Flame. He did say ‘their magic now beyond comprehension’. How was he aware of their power before tonight? Perhaps he worked with them for a personal cause of his. So while it appears he was successfully deflecting, I believe he has told us quite a lot.”
“You may be right,” Pomaqli says with astonishment coating his voice. “I hadn’t even thought of that! So, then, what should be our next step?”
“We need to find a connection between him and the Eye in the Flame,” I say. “There must be something in the palace, or even Pichaqta, that can tie him to the cult. Some evidence or some acquaintance, something.”
“Perhaps that’s where Amalu comes into play,” Paxilche says, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “When Pomaqli talked to the palace guards, they seem to implicate that it was Amalu who introduced the assassin into the ranks. He might be the pivotal connection.”
“And what about the amulet?” Pomaqli asks. “We have been designated a task to seek out the shaman in Qespina in order to search for its purpose and authenticity. If we fail, the Tempered has suggested our imprisonment.”
“That was before the chaos of the attack,” Paxilche says. “Saxina seems to have a lot on his plate at the moment. If he still cares about an amulet, he’s ignoring his duties as ruler of Qiapu.”
“But what if the amulet is part of his plans for Qiapu?” I posit. “He casually recounted the legend tied to the piece of jewelry, feigning mere curiosity while suggesting that the tales were nothing more than entertaining myths. However, as we’ve discussed and discovered, he will not be forthcoming with his plans. Treating his description of the amulet as we have with his other responses to our inquiries, it’s reasonable to assume he very much believes in and cares about the power of this amulet. I believe you may be correct in your deduction that he was aware of the amulet being in the palace, hoping we’d discover it, or possibly knew of it. Perhaps your brother knew what power the amulet possessed and wanted to protect it from falling into the wrong hands, and Saxina was aware of Limaqumtlia’s safeguard.”
“If that’s so, and assuming our other theories hold true,” Paxilche says, gradually drawing a conclusion, “we must prevent him from possessing the amulet.”
“But that would place us in prison,” Pomaqli says with concern. “Even if he set us up to owe him our servitude, not embarking on the quest he is sending us on could mean we face serious punishment that could have us kept away for life, or worse.”
“I believe we must risk the repercussions if it means keeping a potentially dangerous item out of the hands of potentially dangerous people,” I say. “Although Saxina’s intentions are somewhat unclear, we know the threats the Eye in the Flame pose not just to Qiapu, but to all of Pachil.”
“And imprisoning a princess of the Sanqo will instigate a war Saxina likely doesn’t want to start,” Paxilche says.
After making grumbled noises while he considers this, Pomaqli nods and says, “I may have a rudimentary understanding of diplomacy, but that seems to be the logical choice to me. Let us seek out Amalu and see what is revealed when we turn over that rock.”
With renewed vigor and determination, the three of us charge toward the palace to seek answers. Pomaqli’s fears echo in my mind as we walk, and I understand where the seasoned warrior loosely experienced with Qiapu politics would be concerned with our plan. Just moments earlier, we were enemies to the Tempered, having trespassed onto the grounds for our own purposes under his nose. This still concerns me, wondering just how effective and successful we will be in our pursuits. That we can continue to roam around the grounds freely is baffling to me, and the relaxed security begins to concern me more. What operation is Saxina running here? Or is he aware of our movements and has anticipated what our moves will be? Or is he so singularly focused that he's disregarded other pressing issues, risking them coming back to haunt him? It makes me appreciate the stories I’ve heard regarding Limaqumtlia, the slain Tempered, and how organized and focused he was in restoring Qiapu, now that I can see what it’s like when such a leader isn’t present.
The devastation has penetrated deep within the palace, knocking down numerous portions of the building into heaps of rubble. The once-majestic structure, a testament to Qiapu's grandeur, now lies in a state of ruin. Towering pillars that once stood proudly, holding aloft intricate carvings, are now broken stumps, jagged edges pointing accusingly to the night sky. Large sections of the ornate walls have crumbled, revealing the bare stones beneath. Delicate statues are now shattered, their fragmented pieces scattered amidst the debris. The grand archway of the main entrance is partially collapsed, making it appear as if the palace is weeping. Tendrils of smoke still rise from smoldering sections scattered throughout the grounds, a haunting reminder of the ferocity of the assault.
The palace guards and servants have already begun clearing rubble from the grounds, lifting the huge stones and carrying them away. The fact that these intruders could demolish such sturdy structures leaves a heavy pit in my stomach. While the stonework is rare in Sanqo, the palace—my home—was made from similar angularly-cut rocks that have withstood tremors and other attacks. How was the Eye in the Flame able to destroy walls previously thought to be indestructible? What capabilities do they possess that could bring about such destruction, and what other horrors could they achieve? I cast the thoughts from my mind, doing my best to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Shouts erupt down the hallway and around the corner, and a half dozen guards race toward the sound. Paxilche, Pomaqli, and I look at each other, concern washing over us, and we hurriedly follow the men through the corridor. Two servants bring buckets of water from the outdoors and run across our path and into a room off to the side. Is there more urgent destruction of the palace in need of attention?
As we peek around the entry to the room, flames are being extinguished throughout the chamber. Tapestries and clothing have become blackened and charred, and wooden furniture has been kissed by the fire. One of the torches that hangs around the perimeter of the wall is missing, nowhere to be found among the scattered belongings. Whose room is this, and was it the result of the assault on the palace, or is there something more sinister at play?
In the center of the room, a grotesque scene lies before us: entirely burnt to ash is the shape of a human body, sprawled out upon the floor. The stench of singed hair and skin permeates the air, causing me to gag at the scent of overcooked, rancid meat. The features are completely disfigured, the body parts that aren’t burnt appear melted and drooping like cloth sagging after being drenched by the rain. The head is bald and nearly scorched all the way to the skull, a petrified appearance of shock permanently fixed upon the face.
“Whose room does this belong to?” Pomaqli asks the young, panicked guards. He’s met with blank stares as the men struggle to process the scene. The lingering acrid smell is making it more and more difficult for me to remain in this room, and I’m uncertain whether or not I can be here for much longer.
He’s about to ask again when the most veteran among them, a warrior with barely more piercings than the rest, cooly says with a grimace, “This was the chamber of Advisor Amalu.”
