The creature’s bellowing roar. The sorcerer’s maniacal laughter. The ground’s thunderous tremble. The culmination of these sounds is enough to terrorize the bravest of souls. But then, an eerie calm descends. The silence that follows is almost more frightening than the chaos preceding it. It’s a haunting stillness, like the world holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.
This brief pause allows fear to catch up with me. The unknown of what’s to happen next grips my spirit. The thrum of my pulse eclipses all other sounds like a relentless tide that washes away everything else around me. My muscles scream in agony, threatening to give out under the strain. My vision blurs, tunnels, unable to focus on any specific threat. My breath shortens to panicked gasps. I’m on the verge of collapse. But I cannot afford to falter. I must continue. For the sake of Qespina. For the sake of Qiapu. For the sake of Pachil. For the sake of myself.
As I steel myself for the onslaught, a terrifying blend of jaguar and serpent, the Tlaxqoatl, looms before me. Its front half, muscular and imposing, is shrouded in fur so dark it seems to swallow light whole. Its eyes, burning with ferocity, lock onto mine, sending waves of terror through my veins. A snarl reveals rows of deadly fangs, while its growl vibrates the very ground beneath us. The creature’s serpent half, a sleek, elongated body, is covered in scales that gleam with an ominous, dark radiance. With its tail that slices the air, it moves with a deceptive grace, weaving ash and smoke into a sinister veil that cloaks it in shadows, as if it were marshaling the very gloom to its command.
Darkness engulfs me as a massive paw, larger than the guest buildings of the Pichaqta palace, blots out the sun. Its claws, as long as the tallest trees in a Sanqo forest, cast foreboding shadows that stretch across the ground. Tlalqo’s eyes mirror the vastness of the endless sky above, wide with wonder and alarm. I shout unintelligibly, and dive out of the way, into the daylight. The ground rumbles with the paw’s impact, slamming into the terrain and forming a crater.
My heart leaps into my throat as I twist around and look for Tlalqo. To my relief, the shaman evaded the blow, his blue-painted body sprawled onto the green, untouched grass. The imposing figure of the creature slithers upright, leaving behind the imprint of its paw into the volcanic ash and dirt.
I clutch the amulet and repeat the prayer I utter during my morning ritual, hoping I can protect myself from such dark, evil magic.
Strength of Pachil’s ancient lands, steady and enduring,
Flow of the endless rivers, guiding and sure,
Breath of the sacred winds, ever-present and assuring,
Warmth of the sun’s gentle light, life-giving and pure.
As I grip the obsidian stone tightly in my palm, I don’t feel the same connection to it as I had when warding away the sorcerer’s shadow magic. There is no pulsing energy, no glowing warmth emitted from the amulet. Is this creature not cast from the same source of dark magic? Is this Tlaxqoatl actually a beast of legend, one that resembles the monsters told in Saxina’s fable to Paxilche, Pomaqli, and I at the Pichaqta palace? But that beast was described as a creature formed of lava, erupting from the volcano as it spewed magma. Is this yet another monster, one which had not been mentioned because it was believed to be dispatched, extinguished?
Another limb crashes down onto the plain, coming dangerously close to smashing Tlalqo beneath its tremendous, meaty paws. Why has it targeted the shaman? Though he is well versed in the lore of Qiapu and practices sacred rituals, he is but a feeble, frail man… Or, that was my initial impression. Is the creature—or the sorcerer—aware of something I’m not?
My body writhes in pain, but I muster up all the energy I can to control the nearby spring once again. Unlike before, my connection to the water feels faint, as though it’s located from a much further distance away. I reach out, eagerly attempting to draw strength from it, to maneuver it as easily as I once had, but I can only manipulate a minuscule amount, nothing compared to the mountainous size of the monster.
Still, I thrust the water at the beast, hoping to extinguish some life from the creature that spawned from the volcanic ground. There’s a wave roughly chest high that rises, then drifts toward Tlaxqoatl fairly lazily. When it collides with the monster, there’s a subtle hiss, as though a campfire is being put out, yet the creature roars in annoyance, furious to have been disrupted.
With a mammoth roar, the infuriated monster swipes its claws at its prey, first attempting to strike me, then Tlalqo. I hurry to the nearby ravine—tiny though it may be, it’s just large enough for me to slip into it. I feel the turbulent breeze of the paw swiping past me. However, Tlalqo is not so fortunate, being struck not by the sharp claws, but instead by the palm of the large paw. He soars briefly, then tumbles to the ground, toppling over and over until eventually sliding to a painful halt.
Tlaxqoatl lifts its paw up, up, up, ready to bring it down with a tremendous impact. I try once more to distract it by flinging water from the spring, hitting it in its side just once. But once is all I need, as the creature’s lowering limb is thrown off just enough to narrowly miss coming down upon Tlalqo.
There’s a reverberating roar, followed by the weightless feeling of flying through the air. Before I know what’s happened, I skid across the ground like a flat stone tossed along the surface of a still pond, and I’m violently flung atop the vibrant flowers and lush grass.
When my momentum finally stops, an unbearable pain surges throughout the entire side of my body. Tlaxqoatl swings its serpent-like tail back behind its body, and I quickly realize I had been struck by its lethal whip. While laying on my back, I look down at my chest and observe the jade and onyx amulet glowing, albeit dimly, in soft greens and grays. Perhaps the beast’s power stems from some kind of dark magic after all, and while I may not have prevented the entirety of its damaging blow, I count my blessings that I’m not deceased instead.
The sorcerer relishes in our plight, laughing to the heavens. With his arms extended out, as if to embrace the chaos he conjured, he tilts his head back, eyes aglow with a fierce, preternatural light. “Yes, Tlaxqoatl,” he delights, his voice a serpent’s hiss. “Unleash the power bestowed upon you by the mighty Eztletiqa!”
Through my blurred vision, the scene gradually comes into focus, just in time for me to watch the creature’s tail thrash down toward me. I fight through the physical anguish and carry myself just out of the way. As Tlaxqoatl’s tail slams down, the ground quakes. Tremors burst outward from the strike, sending me hurtling through the air. I land with a sudden thud, the air knocked out of my chest.
My chest!
I panic, worried I may have lost the amulets, and feel around for them, searching the ash and dirt for any sign of them. Mercifully, through all the calamity, they remain tethered around my neck. The jade and onyx stones glow dimly once more, and I start to believe they’re preventing me from taking significant damage from these blows that would otherwise be devastating. They’ve been protecting me so far, but I don’t suspect they can hold up and support me for too long. And I most certainly don’t want to test out this theory any longer.
“My goddess,” Tlalqo shouts, and for a moment, I search the grounds for any sign of a female deity, or whether he speaks to one of the lesser gods of the Qiapu. To my uneasy surprise, his eyes look directly at me. “I believe I can assist you. Hold them off and give me one moment!”
For the life of me, I don’t understand what this means, and, I confess, I unfortunately grow frustrated at the shaman for his enigmatic ways. Realizing my fleeting contempt, I scold myself for harboring such thoughts and focus on the matter at hand: There is a sorcerer and a creature of legend that must be stopped.
I try to lift my arm up to guide the mountain spring once more, but there’s a sharp pain that bolts through my shoulder, then darts through my arm and collarbone. I yelp in pain, which alerts the sorcerer and the creature to my location, much to my dismay. Nevertheless, I utilize this as part of my plan, and begin running away from Tlalqo so that their backs are to him, hoping they’ll dismiss him and forget he’s still among us. Even so, with one jerky motion, Tlaxqoatl unwittingly flings its tail around and barely misses Tlalqo as the beast turns itself to face me. Once again, I sigh in relief, and wonder how many more times I’ll have to do that.
I slide to a halt and turn to face my foes. After a few deep breaths, I close my eyes and will every cell in my body to help douse these enemies in the nearby water. I strain my muscles, clenching my hands as though I’m grabbing ahold of something that could easily slip through my fingers, and tighten my grip around the invisible presence of energy. When my eyes slowly open, I see the creature bounding for me, pulling itself along hurriedly with its paws as it drags the serpent-like body along the ground. Its teeth gnash and chomp as it forges ahead, growing larger and larger before it towers above me.
But I also spot another large body of water, grander than anything I’ve cast before, floating through the air. I chuckle in astonishment at the sight, then, through the sounds of the ensuing chaos, Tlalqo’s words circle my ear, as though he’s standing next to me and whispering softly. Is this his doing? Where there was once a struggle to bend the water to my will, suddenly an otherworldly strength courses through me, and I feel rejuvenated for the first time since I arrived at these sacred grounds. The mass of water, twisting like a cyclone above the ground, winds its way from the spring and tilts as I adjust my wrists. I coil my arms back, then thrust them toward the sorcerer and his spawned beast, gritting my teeth as I force the water upon them.
The tremendous whooosh sweeps the sorcerer away, knocking him far into the distance a field’s length away. Tlaxqoatl, however, gets jostled to its side for a moment, temporarily losing its balance before quickly regaining it. It slithers upright, towering higher and higher and higher above us all. I bring my hands around and thrash at the monster once more with the remaining wave before it returns to the spring. However, the beast appears undisturbed, jolting a touch to the other side before straightening its back and piercing me with its scornful stare. I seem to have gained more strength in my abilities, but not enough to take down a legendary beast like Tlaxqoatl.
“Nature’s elemental balance,” he says in a strained voice. “The creature… It’s disrupting the natural elemental balance of the space.”
Confused, I ask, “How? It’s part of the volcanic ground. It’s already existed here.”
The shaman shakes his head. “That sorcerer summoned the great Tlaxqoatl using some type of dark magic. It disturbed the balance of all the elements in this sacred place. We must–“
Before he can finish telling me the instructions, the beast releases a deafening, otherworldly roar that throws me back a distance once more. My eyes flutter open as I find myself laying disoriented upon the ground. A daunting silhouette of Tlaxqoatl towers above me, pointed teeth exposed and ready to chomp. Dazed, I look around and notice the mountain spring is much further away from me, now lower in volume with more of the shore exposed. My connection to it is weak-to-nonexistent, as I can no longer feel its energy flowing through me.
As the monster pulls itself closer to me with its paws, I curl my fingers and cast my hands outward. Startlingly, I no longer hear its snarls nor its movement, and certainly not Tlalqo’s hushed chanting—the world has suddenly gone silent, save for a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Did the beast’s roar knock away my senses? Am I unable to concentrate on channeling my powers? Is hearing the words from the shaman what infuses my capabilities with greater strength?
Reactively, I prod and poke my ears, eagerly trying to clear them out as though the monster’s effects can be simply plucked out of them. To no one’s surprise, this act doesn’t succeed. I spot Tlaxqoatl picking up the pace and surging toward me. I hurriedly roll over onto my knees, then crouch low. The monster twists back as it slithers toward me, readying another swipe of its paws. But I’m ready, too, and the moment it begins to bring its claws down, I scamper out of the way, lunging to safety as the wind from its swooping attack slices the air behind me.
The muffled noises of my surroundings slowly, slowly seep into my consciousness, each sound gradually sharpening into clarity. As though traveling a far distance to reach my ears, I begin to make out Tlalqo’s hollers.
“Get to the effigy!” he quietly shouts, then repeats himself over and over and over again. The effigy? Did I hear him correctly? Does he mean the pile of rocks that got smashed by the sorcerer’s orbs of fire? I have trouble recalling where that once was, searching through the fog of my tattered consciousness for any indication of where that place existed. My chest tightens as I begin to panic, fearing I may never find this place, and that my awareness has been disarmed for good.
Then my eyes locate Tlalqo, who points to a place to my left. My head swivels to follow where he indicates, and I spot a tiny mound of dirt and gravel, no longer the large pile of rocks it used to be, but certainly identifiable as a manmade construction. Like a beacon of hope, or perhaps a mirage born from my deepest wishes, the place emerges, bathed in a heavenly light streaming through the parted clouds. There, our haven awaits, a sanctuary amidst the turmoil, promising safety and solace.
My hopes are quickly dashed, as a dark shadow creeps over me. Though unwillingly, I shift just my eyes to investigate the source, but I already know what’s the cause of this horrific sight. There, erect and glaring down at me, is Tlaxqoatl, visibly irritated that I continue to defiantly exist after all its efforts to exterminate me. Its black scales absorb any divine light that penetrated this space, and along with that, my hopes, as well.
“You can reach the space, my goddess” Tlalqo encourages me, though I’m reluctant to respond to such an incorrect and unacceptable title bestowed upon me. There’s no time to discuss that now—I must get to the destination.
I provoke Tlaxqoatl, purposefully positioning myself to be pinned down by its massive, monstrous paws. It takes the bait, bearing its eggshell white fangs as it contorts backward, then abruptly brings its paws downward. I see my opening, a gap between where the paws will land, hoping I can maintain my balance through the reverberating quakes it’s likely to cause.
The claws tear into the terrain as they’re brought down, and I take off toward the narrow space. The paws thwump into the soil, and I maneuver around the surging craters that form upon impact. The ritual site is within reach, and I extend my hands, ready to embrace Tlalqo and grab ahold of safety.
That is, until the monster’s tail slashes backward in tandem with the slamming of its paws, viciously knocking Tlalqo to the ground and severely splitting the skin of his torso, the red gush of blood pouring from the opened wound. I shriek involuntarily at the sight, fearing the worst for the shaman’s life, and hurry over to him. I check for any sign of life—for his breath, for his heartbeat—and both are beyond faint at this moment, barely noticeable as though he’s not long for this world.
“No! No!” I cry out, grabbing his hand as a means to exchange my life for his and save him from the perils of death. “No, not yet! You must help me defeat these monsters!”
One of the worst sounds I could hear in this moment pierces my ears, and my sorrow and anguish turn into nothing but disgust. It’s the laughter that I will hear in all future nightmares, the taunting laugh that could only come from someone so callous, so cruel.
“That was quite the entertaining spectacle,” the sorcerer mocks. “I was not prepared for a fight, but it was a good way to test my abilities. So I will thank you for this experience.”
I turn to him and respond with a scowl. “Why must you bring such hatred, such visceral disgust for humanity, when all we want is peace?”
“Peace?!” His mocking laughter abruptly turns into pure vitriol as venom seeps through his words. “The Ulxa have never known peace in relation to the remaining factions of Pachil. Even the Timuaq only used us for our capabilities, then discarded us as soon as we were of no use to them. Now it is our turn to gain what is rightfully ours, what has been wrongfully denied to us since fools declared themselves rulers.”
“There is a new ruler who sits on that throne,” I say. “Surely he will work with–“
“You know absolutely nothing, you stupid, naïve child,” the sorcerer practically spits at me with utter disdain. “The Arbiter wishes to eradicate us, just as the Timuaq did to the Atima and the Mahuincha. And a false queen in Analoixan has unjustly claimed Ulxa for herself. Eztletiqa has shone his favor upon us, and he has spoken to the Sunfire, granting us His divine favor for waiting patiently for Him to fulfill His promise. Our patience has been our strength, and now, our retribution will be swift. The time is now, and you are needlessly in the way.”
I want to correct him, inform him that the Atima remain, but this is far from the time for an education. This ‘Sunfire’ is a word I’ve heard before, though I have trouble placing where. Was it in Chalaqta, among the tents during the secret meeting? My time in Tapeu seems like eons ago, the memories appearing in small whispers.
“There is another way,” I say, knowing deep within my heart that any pleas to his sensible, empathetic side are useless. He is too far gone, believing too deeply in this cult’s misguided beliefs.
“The only way,” he says, his voice now tempered and disturbingly controlled, “is through those amulets. Balance must be restored. The coming storms upon Analoixan and Qapauma will herald our new dawn, and all of Pachil will know its place is beneath the Eye in the Flame.”
The coming storms? The sorcerer’s words echo threats larger than any single battle—two fronts in a war meant to engulf all of Pachil.
“I have grown tired and bored of your insolence, and these actions which impede on my progress will no longer be tolerated,” he says. “You may have happened upon the amulets, but a being as inferior as you knows not what true power they possess. It is time an infidel such as yourself is finally disposed of, so that we can march to Analoixan and Qapauma, as He wills it.”
He begins to chant, and from my periphery, I see the creature stirring, as though something is being fused within it, surging through its beastly being. Is the Eye in the Flame zealot further empowering this monster? What more can he imbue into its supernatural existence?
It’s at this moment when a plan strikes me like a wave crashing into the shore. I can see the plan so clearly now, my focus rejuvenated at this madman’s words. I know how I can stop him, stop this monster, stop all of this. As he just said, balance must be restored.
I inhale deeply, letting the air and dust and particles and soil and ash and all the elements floating about this sacred space fill my lungs. I summon all the energy that courses through me, flowing through my veins, between every cell, and concentrate once more on the remaining waters in the mountain spring. I don’t need much—just enough to halt his chanting. With a rapid flick of my wrist, I fling a wall of water at him, knocking him off balance and onto the muddy ground. Enough water rushes into his mouth, filling his throat and lungs and forcing him into a fit of coughing.
Then, I place my left hand upon Tlalqo, clutch the jade and onyx amulet tightly with my right, and recite the chant I’ve spoken since I practiced my meditation with Alsuaqu, the Sanqo spirit speaker.
Strength of Pachil’s ancient lands, steady and enduring,
Flow of the endless rivers, guiding and sure,
Breath of the sacred winds, ever-present and assuring,
Warmth of the sun’s gentle light, life-giving and pure.
With a loud gasp, Tlalqo spring back to life, his body jolting upright with an intense bewilderment spanning his face. He looks around to examine where he is, but I jarringly bring him back to the pressing situation.
“Tlalqo, I need to you recite the chant you were speaking moments before,” I say with urgency. Stunned, he opens his mouth to speak, likely questioning… well, everything. But I cut him off. “There’s no time. I need you to trust me, before the sorcerer stops himself from choking and can resume his ritual. Now!”
Although initially confused, the shaman shakes his head and snaps to, recognizing the importance of what I’ve asked. Placing his right hand upon my shoulder, he begins chanting feverishly, mumbling and muttering something in a language I don’t understand. But soon, his words reverberate within my head, as though he’s speaking within me, and I feel his energy flowing through me once again.
With determination, I wrap my fingers jointly around the obsidian amulet, fusing the two pieces together in my tight grip. I bow my head and, with an empowered resolve, chant the ritualistic prayer once more.
Strength of Pachil’s ancient lands, steady and enduring,
The sorcerer’s coughing and choking subsides, and I sense him looking on, growing aware of what my actions are working to accomplish.
Flow of the endless rivers, guiding and sure,
Though I can’t say for certain, in my heart, I believe there’s a sheer fright that consumes him as he realizes what’s about to happen. He looks upon his creation, desperate for the now frozen monster to do something, anything, to stop what we’re about to do.
Breath of the sacred winds, ever-present and assuring,
But Tlaxqoatl remains as still as a statue, stuck in place once the sorcerer’s chanting halted. He tries again to complete his chant, sputtering out the words in hopes of beating us to the mark.
Warmth of the sun’s gentle light, life-giving and pure.
The obsidian amulet glows in a purplish hue and intertwines with the jade’s green and onyx’s gray auras. Suddenly, a torrent of unfamiliar energy cascades within me, a maelstrom of power that ignites every fiber of my being. Time slows, and I can see, can feel, can sense everything that exists in this place, in this moment.
I raise my hands, lifting all the remaining water from the mountain spring, and with a large, swooping gesture of my arms, I bring the mass of water flowing over the sorcerer and the creature. The cultist disappears among the flood, vanishing into the flowing river. But this time, the creature writhes and twists as it lashes out at the waves that pull it into the source of the Maiu Atiniuq. The whirlpool violently thrashes around and around, a vortex that pulls the beast into the ground. It desperately attempts to clutch at anything to remain aboveground, its last moments of movement spent on trying to survive. But it’s no match for the intense pull of the water that sucks it back into the dormant volcano.
Suddenly, the site is silent and calm once more. Yet this time, there is no sense of dread, only peace. I can hear my breathing intermingle with the gentle wind that rolls along the open plains of this place. Is it over? Is it done? Has the sorcerer and his creature been defeated? The spring returns to its undisturbed tranquility, cradled in the mountain valley. Do I hear a bird singing among the colorful flowers? Are creatures stirring in the tall grasses?
Tlalqo is slow to get up, but he stands and surveys the scene. He takes in the destruction from the slithering monster, but also the restored stillness of this sacred place. His head turns to me, and with a look I’ve begun to see far too frequently for my liking, there’s a reverence fixed to his face, mouth slightly ajar.
I get a sense of what he may be thinking, so to interrupt this, I approach him, saying, “Perhaps we should check on the village, to make sure everyone in Qespina is safe.” Though in a daze, he nods his approval of the idea, and we collect our belongings before returning to the small Qiapu town.
As we approach Qespina, the villagers are quick to greet us, warm smiles spanning their faces as they cheer. Have we cured what ailed the village? Do they know what we faced at the ritual site? How could they know? They talk at such speeds, blistering through their excited statements to Tlalqo.
“She’s healed, great shaman!” one exclaims. “Her illness has vanished!”
“My husband has awoken from his long slumber!” another remarks.
“My precious child is ill no longer!” a gracious mother says, cradling her young infant. “You have done it, great shaman!”
It doesn’t take long before Tlalqo, with an authority that commands the air itself to a silence, makes his way to the center. As he raises his arms, a hush falls over the gathered villagers. Amidst the quiet, his voice booms, “I have prayed, and prayed, for this day. Aqxilapu has heard us! Behold the reincarnation of the Eleven, embodied in Walumaq, the Sanqo goddess!”
Sheer terror bolts through me, freezing me in place. In a heartbeat, the villagers’ expressions transform from stunned confusion to complete elation. They begin chanting my name in a reverent chorus that echoes through the air. Their adoration sweeps over me like an undertow that threatens to drag me beneath the surface. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t who I am. Panic claws at my throat as I stand trapped in their gaze, a goddess in their eyes, but a fraud in my own. And in that moment, with their chants rising like a tidal wave, I realize there’s no escaping the burden now crashing over me.
The creature’s bellowing roar. The sorcerer’s maniacal laughter. The ground’s thunderous tremble. The culmination of these sounds is enough to terrorize the bravest of souls. But then, an eerie calm descends. The silence that follows is almost more frightening than the chaos preceding it. It’s a haunting stillness, like the world holding its breath, waiting for what comes next.
This brief pause allows fear to catch up with me. The unknown of what’s to happen next grips my spirit. The thrum of my pulse eclipses all other sounds like a relentless tide that washes away everything else around me. My muscles scream in agony, threatening to give out under the strain. My vision blurs, tunnels, unable to focus on any specific threat. My breath shortens to panicked gasps. I’m on the verge of collapse. But I cannot afford to falter. I must continue. For the sake of Qespina. For the sake of Qiapu. For the sake of Pachil. For the sake of myself.
As I steel myself for the onslaught, a terrifying blend of jaguar and serpent, the Tlaxqoatl, looms before me. Its front half, muscular and imposing, is shrouded in fur so dark it seems to swallow light whole. Its eyes, burning with ferocity, lock onto mine, sending waves of terror through my veins. A snarl reveals rows of deadly fangs, while its growl vibrates the very ground beneath us. The creature’s serpent half, a sleek, elongated body, is covered in scales that gleam with an ominous, dark radiance. With its tail that slices the air, it moves with a deceptive grace, weaving ash and smoke into a sinister veil that cloaks it in shadows, as if it were marshaling the very gloom to its command.
Darkness engulfs me as a massive paw, larger than the guest buildings of the Pichaqta palace, blots out the sun. Its claws, as long as the tallest trees in a Sanqo forest, cast foreboding shadows that stretch across the ground. Tlalqo’s eyes mirror the vastness of the endless sky above, wide with wonder and alarm. I shout unintelligibly, and dive out of the way, into the daylight. The ground rumbles with the paw’s impact, slamming into the terrain and forming a crater.
My heart leaps into my throat as I twist around and look for Tlalqo. To my relief, the shaman evaded the blow, his blue-painted body sprawled onto the green, untouched grass. The imposing figure of the creature slithers upright, leaving behind the imprint of its paw into the volcanic ash and dirt.
I clutch the amulet and repeat the prayer I utter during my morning ritual, hoping I can protect myself from such dark, evil magic.
Strength of Pachil’s ancient lands, steady and enduring,
Flow of the endless rivers, guiding and sure,
Breath of the sacred winds, ever-present and assuring,
Warmth of the sun’s gentle light, life-giving and pure.
As I grip the obsidian stone tightly in my palm, I don’t feel the same connection to it as I had when warding away the sorcerer’s shadow magic. There is no pulsing energy, no glowing warmth emitted from the amulet. Is this creature not cast from the same source of dark magic? Is this Tlaxqoatl actually a beast of legend, one that resembles the monsters told in Saxina’s fable to Paxilche, Pomaqli, and I at the Pichaqta palace? But that beast was described as a creature formed of lava, erupting from the volcano as it spewed magma. Is this yet another monster, one which had not been mentioned because it was believed to be dispatched, extinguished?
Another limb crashes down onto the plain, coming dangerously close to smashing Tlalqo beneath its tremendous, meaty paws. Why has it targeted the shaman? Though he is well versed in the lore of Qiapu and practices sacred rituals, he is but a feeble, frail man… Or, that was my initial impression. Is the creature—or the sorcerer—aware of something I’m not?
My body writhes in pain, but I muster up all the energy I can to control the nearby spring once again. Unlike before, my connection to the water feels faint, as though it’s located from a much further distance away. I reach out, eagerly attempting to draw strength from it, to maneuver it as easily as I once had, but I can only manipulate a minuscule amount, nothing compared to the mountainous size of the monster.
Still, I thrust the water at the beast, hoping to extinguish some life from the creature that spawned from the volcanic ground. There’s a wave roughly chest high that rises, then drifts toward Tlaxqoatl fairly lazily. When it collides with the monster, there’s a subtle hiss, as though a campfire is being put out, yet the creature roars in annoyance, furious to have been disrupted.
With a mammoth roar, the infuriated monster swipes its claws at its prey, first attempting to strike me, then Tlalqo. I hurry to the nearby ravine—tiny though it may be, it’s just large enough for me to slip into it. I feel the turbulent breeze of the paw swiping past me. However, Tlalqo is not so fortunate, being struck not by the sharp claws, but instead by the palm of the large paw. He soars briefly, then tumbles to the ground, toppling over and over until eventually sliding to a painful halt.
Tlaxqoatl lifts its paw up, up, up, ready to bring it down with a tremendous impact. I try once more to distract it by flinging water from the spring, hitting it in its side just once. But once is all I need, as the creature’s lowering limb is thrown off just enough to narrowly miss coming down upon Tlalqo.
There’s a reverberating roar, followed by the weightless feeling of flying through the air. Before I know what’s happened, I skid across the ground like a flat stone tossed along the surface of a still pond, and I’m violently flung atop the vibrant flowers and lush grass.
When my momentum finally stops, an unbearable pain surges throughout the entire side of my body. Tlaxqoatl swings its serpent-like tail back behind its body, and I quickly realize I had been struck by its lethal whip. While laying on my back, I look down at my chest and observe the jade and onyx amulet glowing, albeit dimly, in soft greens and grays. Perhaps the beast’s power stems from some kind of dark magic after all, and while I may not have prevented the entirety of its damaging blow, I count my blessings that I’m not deceased instead.
The sorcerer relishes in our plight, laughing to the heavens. With his arms extended out, as if to embrace the chaos he conjured, he tilts his head back, eyes aglow with a fierce, preternatural light. “Yes, Tlaxqoatl,” he delights, his voice a serpent’s hiss. “Unleash the power bestowed upon you by the mighty Eztletiqa!”
Through my blurred vision, the scene gradually comes into focus, just in time for me to watch the creature’s tail thrash down toward me. I fight through the physical anguish and carry myself just out of the way. As Tlaxqoatl’s tail slams down, the ground quakes. Tremors burst outward from the strike, sending me hurtling through the air. I land with a sudden thud, the air knocked out of my chest.
My chest!
I panic, worried I may have lost the amulets, and feel around for them, searching the ash and dirt for any sign of them. Mercifully, through all the calamity, they remain tethered around my neck. The jade and onyx stones glow dimly once more, and I start to believe they’re preventing me from taking significant damage from these blows that would otherwise be devastating. They’ve been protecting me so far, but I don’t suspect they can hold up and support me for too long. And I most certainly don’t want to test out this theory any longer.
“My goddess,” Tlalqo shouts, and for a moment, I search the grounds for any sign of a female deity, or whether he speaks to one of the lesser gods of the Qiapu. To my uneasy surprise, his eyes look directly at me. “I believe I can assist you. Hold them off and give me one moment!”
For the life of me, I don’t understand what this means, and, I confess, I unfortunately grow frustrated at the shaman for his enigmatic ways. Realizing my fleeting contempt, I scold myself for harboring such thoughts and focus on the matter at hand: There is a sorcerer and a creature of legend that must be stopped.
I try to lift my arm up to guide the mountain spring once more, but there’s a sharp pain that bolts through my shoulder, then darts through my arm and collarbone. I yelp in pain, which alerts the sorcerer and the creature to my location, much to my dismay. Nevertheless, I utilize this as part of my plan, and begin running away from Tlalqo so that their backs are to him, hoping they’ll dismiss him and forget he’s still among us. Even so, with one jerky motion, Tlaxqoatl unwittingly flings its tail around and barely misses Tlalqo as the beast turns itself to face me. Once again, I sigh in relief, and wonder how many more times I’ll have to do that.
I slide to a halt and turn to face my foes. After a few deep breaths, I close my eyes and will every cell in my body to help douse these enemies in the nearby water. I strain my muscles, clenching my hands as though I’m grabbing ahold of something that could easily slip through my fingers, and tighten my grip around the invisible presence of energy. When my eyes slowly open, I see the creature bounding for me, pulling itself along hurriedly with its paws as it drags the serpent-like body along the ground. Its teeth gnash and chomp as it forges ahead, growing larger and larger before it towers above me.
But I also spot another large body of water, grander than anything I’ve cast before, floating through the air. I chuckle in astonishment at the sight, then, through the sounds of the ensuing chaos, Tlalqo’s words circle my ear, as though he’s standing next to me and whispering softly. Is this his doing? Where there was once a struggle to bend the water to my will, suddenly an otherworldly strength courses through me, and I feel rejuvenated for the first time since I arrived at these sacred grounds. The mass of water, twisting like a cyclone above the ground, winds its way from the spring and tilts as I adjust my wrists. I coil my arms back, then thrust them toward the sorcerer and his spawned beast, gritting my teeth as I force the water upon them.
The tremendous whooosh sweeps the sorcerer away, knocking him far into the distance a field’s length away. Tlaxqoatl, however, gets jostled to its side for a moment, temporarily losing its balance before quickly regaining it. It slithers upright, towering higher and higher and higher above us all. I bring my hands around and thrash at the monster once more with the remaining wave before it returns to the spring. However, the beast appears undisturbed, jolting a touch to the other side before straightening its back and piercing me with its scornful stare. I seem to have gained more strength in my abilities, but not enough to take down a legendary beast like Tlaxqoatl.
“Nature’s elemental balance,” he says in a strained voice. “The creature… It’s disrupting the natural elemental balance of the space.”
Confused, I ask, “How? It’s part of the volcanic ground. It’s already existed here.”
The shaman shakes his head. “That sorcerer summoned the great Tlaxqoatl using some type of dark magic. It disturbed the balance of all the elements in this sacred place. We must–“
Before he can finish telling me the instructions, the beast releases a deafening, otherworldly roar that throws me back a distance once more. My eyes flutter open as I find myself laying disoriented upon the ground. A daunting silhouette of Tlaxqoatl towers above me, pointed teeth exposed and ready to chomp. Dazed, I look around and notice the mountain spring is much further away from me, now lower in volume with more of the shore exposed. My connection to it is weak-to-nonexistent, as I can no longer feel its energy flowing through me.
As the monster pulls itself closer to me with its paws, I curl my fingers and cast my hands outward. Startlingly, I no longer hear its snarls nor its movement, and certainly not Tlalqo’s hushed chanting—the world has suddenly gone silent, save for a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Did the beast’s roar knock away my senses? Am I unable to concentrate on channeling my powers? Is hearing the words from the shaman what infuses my capabilities with greater strength?
Reactively, I prod and poke my ears, eagerly trying to clear them out as though the monster’s effects can be simply plucked out of them. To no one’s surprise, this act doesn’t succeed. I spot Tlaxqoatl picking up the pace and surging toward me. I hurriedly roll over onto my knees, then crouch low. The monster twists back as it slithers toward me, readying another swipe of its paws. But I’m ready, too, and the moment it begins to bring its claws down, I scamper out of the way, lunging to safety as the wind from its swooping attack slices the air behind me.
The muffled noises of my surroundings slowly, slowly seep into my consciousness, each sound gradually sharpening into clarity. As though traveling a far distance to reach my ears, I begin to make out Tlalqo’s hollers.
“Get to the effigy!” he quietly shouts, then repeats himself over and over and over again. The effigy? Did I hear him correctly? Does he mean the pile of rocks that got smashed by the sorcerer’s orbs of fire? I have trouble recalling where that once was, searching through the fog of my tattered consciousness for any indication of where that place existed. My chest tightens as I begin to panic, fearing I may never find this place, and that my awareness has been disarmed for good.
Then my eyes locate Tlalqo, who points to a place to my left. My head swivels to follow where he indicates, and I spot a tiny mound of dirt and gravel, no longer the large pile of rocks it used to be, but certainly identifiable as a manmade construction. Like a beacon of hope, or perhaps a mirage born from my deepest wishes, the place emerges, bathed in a heavenly light streaming through the parted clouds. There, our haven awaits, a sanctuary amidst the turmoil, promising safety and solace.
My hopes are quickly dashed, as a dark shadow creeps over me. Though unwillingly, I shift just my eyes to investigate the source, but I already know what’s the cause of this horrific sight. There, erect and glaring down at me, is Tlaxqoatl, visibly irritated that I continue to defiantly exist after all its efforts to exterminate me. Its black scales absorb any divine light that penetrated this space, and along with that, my hopes, as well.
“You can reach the space, my goddess” Tlalqo encourages me, though I’m reluctant to respond to such an incorrect and unacceptable title bestowed upon me. There’s no time to discuss that now—I must get to the destination.
I provoke Tlaxqoatl, purposefully positioning myself to be pinned down by its massive, monstrous paws. It takes the bait, bearing its eggshell white fangs as it contorts backward, then abruptly brings its paws downward. I see my opening, a gap between where the paws will land, hoping I can maintain my balance through the reverberating quakes it’s likely to cause.
The claws tear into the terrain as they’re brought down, and I take off toward the narrow space. The paws thwump into the soil, and I maneuver around the surging craters that form upon impact. The ritual site is within reach, and I extend my hands, ready to embrace Tlalqo and grab ahold of safety.
That is, until the monster’s tail slashes backward in tandem with the slamming of its paws, viciously knocking Tlalqo to the ground and severely splitting the skin of his torso, the red gush of blood pouring from the opened wound. I shriek involuntarily at the sight, fearing the worst for the shaman’s life, and hurry over to him. I check for any sign of life—for his breath, for his heartbeat—and both are beyond faint at this moment, barely noticeable as though he’s not long for this world.
“No! No!” I cry out, grabbing his hand as a means to exchange my life for his and save him from the perils of death. “No, not yet! You must help me defeat these monsters!”
One of the worst sounds I could hear in this moment pierces my ears, and my sorrow and anguish turn into nothing but disgust. It’s the laughter that I will hear in all future nightmares, the taunting laugh that could only come from someone so callous, so cruel.
“That was quite the entertaining spectacle,” the sorcerer mocks. “I was not prepared for a fight, but it was a good way to test my abilities. So I will thank you for this experience.”
I turn to him and respond with a scowl. “Why must you bring such hatred, such visceral disgust for humanity, when all we want is peace?”
“Peace?!” His mocking laughter abruptly turns into pure vitriol as venom seeps through his words. “The Ulxa have never known peace in relation to the remaining factions of Pachil. Even the Timuaq only used us for our capabilities, then discarded us as soon as we were of no use to them. Now it is our turn to gain what is rightfully ours, what has been wrongfully denied to us since fools declared themselves rulers.”
“There is a new ruler who sits on that throne,” I say. “Surely he will work with–“
“You know absolutely nothing, you stupid, naïve child,” the sorcerer practically spits at me with utter disdain. “The Arbiter wishes to eradicate us, just as the Timuaq did to the Atima and the Mahuincha. And a false queen in Analoixan has unjustly claimed Ulxa for herself. Eztletiqa has shone his favor upon us, and he has spoken to the Sunfire, granting us His divine favor for waiting patiently for Him to fulfill His promise. Our patience has been our strength, and now, our retribution will be swift. The time is now, and you are needlessly in the way.”
I want to correct him, inform him that the Atima remain, but this is far from the time for an education. This ‘Sunfire’ is a word I’ve heard before, though I have trouble placing where. Was it in Chalaqta, among the tents during the secret meeting? My time in Tapeu seems like eons ago, the memories appearing in small whispers.
“There is another way,” I say, knowing deep within my heart that any pleas to his sensible, empathetic side are useless. He is too far gone, believing too deeply in this cult’s misguided beliefs.
“The only way,” he says, his voice now tempered and disturbingly controlled, “is through those amulets. Balance must be restored. The coming storms upon Analoixan and Qapauma will herald our new dawn, and all of Pachil will know its place is beneath the Eye in the Flame.”
The coming storms? The sorcerer’s words echo threats larger than any single battle—two fronts in a war meant to engulf all of Pachil.
“I have grown tired and bored of your insolence, and these actions which impede on my progress will no longer be tolerated,” he says. “You may have happened upon the amulets, but a being as inferior as you knows not what true power they possess. It is time an infidel such as yourself is finally disposed of, so that we can march to Analoixan and Qapauma, as He wills it.”
He begins to chant, and from my periphery, I see the creature stirring, as though something is being fused within it, surging through its beastly being. Is the Eye in the Flame zealot further empowering this monster? What more can he imbue into its supernatural existence?
It’s at this moment when a plan strikes me like a wave crashing into the shore. I can see the plan so clearly now, my focus rejuvenated at this madman’s words. I know how I can stop him, stop this monster, stop all of this. As he just said, balance must be restored.
I inhale deeply, letting the air and dust and particles and soil and ash and all the elements floating about this sacred space fill my lungs. I summon all the energy that courses through me, flowing through my veins, between every cell, and concentrate once more on the remaining waters in the mountain spring. I don’t need much—just enough to halt his chanting. With a rapid flick of my wrist, I fling a wall of water at him, knocking him off balance and onto the muddy ground. Enough water rushes into his mouth, filling his throat and lungs and forcing him into a fit of coughing.
Then, I place my left hand upon Tlalqo, clutch the jade and onyx amulet tightly with my right, and recite the chant I’ve spoken since I practiced my meditation with Alsuaqu, the Sanqo spirit speaker.
Strength of Pachil’s ancient lands, steady and enduring,
Flow of the endless rivers, guiding and sure,
Breath of the sacred winds, ever-present and assuring,
Warmth of the sun’s gentle light, life-giving and pure.
With a loud gasp, Tlalqo spring back to life, his body jolting upright with an intense bewilderment spanning his face. He looks around to examine where he is, but I jarringly bring him back to the pressing situation.
“Tlalqo, I need to you recite the chant you were speaking moments before,” I say with urgency. Stunned, he opens his mouth to speak, likely questioning… well, everything. But I cut him off. “There’s no time. I need you to trust me, before the sorcerer stops himself from choking and can resume his ritual. Now!”
Although initially confused, the shaman shakes his head and snaps to, recognizing the importance of what I’ve asked. Placing his right hand upon my shoulder, he begins chanting feverishly, mumbling and muttering something in a language I don’t understand. But soon, his words reverberate within my head, as though he’s speaking within me, and I feel his energy flowing through me once again.
With determination, I wrap my fingers jointly around the obsidian amulet, fusing the two pieces together in my tight grip. I bow my head and, with an empowered resolve, chant the ritualistic prayer once more.
Strength of Pachil’s ancient lands, steady and enduring,
The sorcerer’s coughing and choking subsides, and I sense him looking on, growing aware of what my actions are working to accomplish.
Flow of the endless rivers, guiding and sure,
Though I can’t say for certain, in my heart, I believe there’s a sheer fright that consumes him as he realizes what’s about to happen. He looks upon his creation, desperate for the now frozen monster to do something, anything, to stop what we’re about to do.
Breath of the sacred winds, ever-present and assuring,
But Tlaxqoatl remains as still as a statue, stuck in place once the sorcerer’s chanting halted. He tries again to complete his chant, sputtering out the words in hopes of beating us to the mark.
Warmth of the sun’s gentle light, life-giving and pure.
The obsidian amulet glows in a purplish hue and intertwines with the jade’s green and onyx’s gray auras. Suddenly, a torrent of unfamiliar energy cascades within me, a maelstrom of power that ignites every fiber of my being. Time slows, and I can see, can feel, can sense everything that exists in this place, in this moment.
I raise my hands, lifting all the remaining water from the mountain spring, and with a large, swooping gesture of my arms, I bring the mass of water flowing over the sorcerer and the creature. The cultist disappears among the flood, vanishing into the flowing river. But this time, the creature writhes and twists as it lashes out at the waves that pull it into the source of the Maiu Atiniuq. The whirlpool violently thrashes around and around, a vortex that pulls the beast into the ground. It desperately attempts to clutch at anything to remain aboveground, its last moments of movement spent on trying to survive. But it’s no match for the intense pull of the water that sucks it back into the dormant volcano.
Suddenly, the site is silent and calm once more. Yet this time, there is no sense of dread, only peace. I can hear my breathing intermingle with the gentle wind that rolls along the open plains of this place. Is it over? Is it done? Has the sorcerer and his creature been defeated? The spring returns to its undisturbed tranquility, cradled in the mountain valley. Do I hear a bird singing among the colorful flowers? Are creatures stirring in the tall grasses?
Tlalqo is slow to get up, but he stands and surveys the scene. He takes in the destruction from the slithering monster, but also the restored stillness of this sacred place. His head turns to me, and with a look I’ve begun to see far too frequently for my liking, there’s a reverence fixed to his face, mouth slightly ajar.
I get a sense of what he may be thinking, so to interrupt this, I approach him, saying, “Perhaps we should check on the village, to make sure everyone in Qespina is safe.” Though in a daze, he nods his approval of the idea, and we collect our belongings before returning to the small Qiapu town.
As we approach Qespina, the villagers are quick to greet us, warm smiles spanning their faces as they cheer. Have we cured what ailed the village? Do they know what we faced at the ritual site? How could they know? They talk at such speeds, blistering through their excited statements to Tlalqo.
“She’s healed, great shaman!” one exclaims. “Her illness has vanished!”
“My husband has awoken from his long slumber!” another remarks.
“My precious child is ill no longer!” a gracious mother says, cradling her young infant. “You have done it, great shaman!”
It doesn’t take long before Tlalqo, with an authority that commands the air itself to a silence, makes his way to the center. As he raises his arms, a hush falls over the gathered villagers. Amidst the quiet, his voice booms, “I have prayed, and prayed, for this day. Aqxilapu has heard us! Behold the reincarnation of the Eleven, embodied in Walumaq, the Sanqo goddess!”
Sheer terror bolts through me, freezing me in place. In a heartbeat, the villagers’ expressions transform from stunned confusion to complete elation. They begin chanting my name in a reverent chorus that echoes through the air. Their adoration sweeps over me like an undertow that threatens to drag me beneath the surface. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t who I am. Panic claws at my throat as I stand trapped in their gaze, a goddess in their eyes, but a fraud in my own. And in that moment, with their chants rising like a tidal wave, I realize there’s no escaping the burden now crashing over me.
