The sun warms my face as I come into consciousness, bringing me back into the waking world. Involuntarily, I wince as a searing pain throbs inside my head, like a hundred war drums pounding their rhythms in anticipation of battle. But despite the physical discomfort, I’m eternally grateful to have made it to this point, to have narrowly escaped the collapsing tunnel with my life. The treacherous journey I’ve encountered at this living labyrinth has been greater than I could’ve ever anticipated, and I’m thankful to still be alive after overcoming the challenges.
However, I’m not out of this place yet. Inspecting the scene around me, I’ve reached a rocky clearing devoid of the countless shifting trees that previously surrounded us. There appears to be a small accumulation of stones in a miniature representation of tremendous craggy formations that stand tall and proud far off in the hazy distance. The air is thin and dry with a slight chill, as if I’m on a high plateau in some arid region. Have I been transported from Qantua to another destination?
I dust myself off, looking over to the confused llama lying from exhaustion on the stony ground. Its wool has streaks of scarlet trailing down its front legs, and as it stands up to test them, the llama immediately drops back to the ground, defeated as it takes labored breaths. Despite its injuries, the animal is too valuable to put down, especially knowing I’d be subjecting myself to Upachu’s wrath if I return to Hilaqta without his beloved creature. I can only hope it recovers quickly so that I’m not carrying it and the cart for long distances.
While the llama rests, I walk over to the stone formations that reside a few dozen paces away from me. Tiny clusters of tree saplings sprout from various points among the rocks, and small finger-sized streams of water trickle through the space. Inspecting them, they appear to be untouched by human hands, their surfaces not smooth, but rather jagged, rugged, and misshapen. Yet the way in which they have been positioned in this area feels unnatural, as though they’ve been placed here my some larger hands. Was this formed by the Timuaq?
Curious by these strange formations, I look them over, attempting to identify any indication as to how they arrived here. As I inspect the stones, there appears to be similar glyphs to what I’ve seen at previous locations in this enchanted place and on the papyrus, faintly etched into the surface. There is a significant amount of them, carved into the rocks in long lines of symbols, and then one large glyph above the flurry of others. Many of them are unrecognizable to me, and to my dismay, there are no illustrations as to what they represent like what I encountered at the start of my time here. The dizzying swirl of various lines and curves confuses me as I attempt to decipher what these long stretches of glyphs indicates, to no avail.
Disappointed, I begin to drift back to the llama, to join the animal in its defeated sulk. Before I reach it, however, I pause in contemplation. I’ve managed to distinguish certain characters and symbols before—it’s how I was able to reach this point in the quest. Perhaps I can use clues from the words I know to help me decipher the ones I do not. I may not get the swath of text completely correct, but I can at least get close. I’ve gotten this far, and I am no quitter, so there’s no excuse in stopping and turning back now. Besides, where would I turn to anyway?
With a newfound determination to solve this riddle, I turn back and charge over to the rock formation. What are the glyphs trying to get me to do, to understand? There are a few words that I’m able to distinguish, the ones I learned before: Wind, Sun, Water, Cloud, Moon, Mountain, Fire, Tree, Pachil. I find them in various locations amidst the slew of other unfamiliar glyphs, but there’s something about their placement that piques my interest. Perhaps it has something to do with the words chosen to be in conjunction with one another that raises my suspicions and curiosities.
Just beyond the formation of stones is one low, isolated rock that rests near the now collapsed mouth of the tunnel from which we emerged. It’s entirely out of place, located far from the collection of other tall, slender stones that jut up from the ground like pillars. Yet on this rock, more glyphs are carved into its surface. How is this short, stubby stone related to the others a few paces away?
There are a few familiar words that appear frequently on this rock, specifically ‘Wind’ and ‘Water’. My immediate reaction is one of nervousness, dreading another physical challenge that I must overcome. My head and body greatly ache, and I’m uncertain whether I’ll be able to endure more punishment without some kind of reprieve. But as I read the glyphs more carefully, they don’t remind me of the warnings regarding the environmental encounters I faced previously. Instead, they strike me as some kind of instructions, informing me of the importance of these elements and their relation to the tall stones.
I stop myself from lamenting the lack of Upachu’s presence here, reminding myself that I’ve been able to distinguish the glyphs’ meaning without him before, and I can do so again here. I concentrate on the words, staring at them as if expecting them to speak to me. Something about how they’re being utilized here… the way this one persistent word appears… I’m reminded of motion or movement, how this particular glyph is shaped in similar sweeping lines like that of the words representing ‘Wind’ and ‘Water’ as opposed to the symbolic images that helped me learn them. The lack of words like ‘Mountain’ or ‘Tree’, words that represent stagnant or still objects, makes me believe I’m onto something with this. Yet what among this place moves?
I recall the tiny streams of water that flow between the stones and saplings, and I believe the clue has something to do with this location. Maybe the water’s movement will lead me to the solution? I search and search, my eyes sweeping the area for anything that moves which could be the answer to whatever I’m being asked to find. Yet besides the tiny water streams, the place is still, silent and peaceful. Attempting to halt the water’s flow only causes the stream to travel around my hand and continue onward, revealing nothing beneath the waters’ surface.
Exasperated, I rest upon one of the stone pillars, leaning against it as I frustratingly stare at the other rocks and sprouts. Perhaps there’s something on these stones that could give me the answer? But by now, after all the trials I’ve completed up to this point, I’m entirely exhausted. My thoughts are slow, and I struggle to process the overwhelming information presented to me.
Just as I place my hand upon the tall rock and rest my weight into it, the ground—no, the entire region, all of Qantua—trembles spectacularly. I freeze in place, and am soon left in astonishment: the stone moves! How am I capable of moving such massive boulders with ease, like a merchant pushing a cart or a farmer pushing a plow? I check the ground for any indication as to how this is possible, but all that remains is dirt in the stone’s wake; no dedicated path exists to guide it, no fixed walls line its way. I’m confused, but also elated. What does the movement and position of these stones mean?
Eagerly seeking the answer, I inspect the rock pillars even more carefully than before, if such an action is possible. The large glyph at the top seems to tell me that it represents a specific word, one I have yet to understand, but I suspect there are clues carved somewhere into the stone to guide me to the answer.
Similar to the solitary short stone, there are a few glyphs I recognize among the many others I don’t: Tree, Mountain, and Sun stand out prominently from the others. I reflect upon the significance of the three words used together in this stone’s instruction, repeating them to myself as I attempt to discover the solution. In Qantua culture, my people perceive these items to be sturdy, reliable objects—the mountain and tree are strong sentinels of our land, and the sun overlooks us as it sheds its life-giving light to protect us. There are likely other conclusions to be made, but with the three of them used in the same lines of glyphs, I determine they have to be connected together in some way.
If the stones can move, then where should this pillar be positioned? Is there an importance as to where the stone is placed? Initially, the only place I can think of is in the direction of Hilaqta, the Qantua capital where the defenders of our territory originate. As I maneuver the stone around the area, the land in the distance shifts along with its movement, with trees wildly repositioning themselves about the enchanted forest.
When I place the rock where I believe it should reside, there is a stillness throughout the space, and I debate whether I’ve made the correct placement or not. I grow concerned about the manipulation of the land, wondering if the alterations I’m making will severely impact Qantua, and I start to question if I should move these stones around at all. But then I recall the shifting trees, trees that had never previously existed in the territory until my encounter with the condor guardian, that made the path into this area nearly impossible to find. I determine that whatever is taking place here is isolated from the rest of Pachil. Or, at least, I hope so.
Thinking further upon the meaning of the glyph, I believe I’m correct in the stone’s significance, but perhaps I’m wrong with what it represents. Maybe it’s not Hilaqta, or Qantua, that is the answer, but all of Pachil, and that the location should be in the direction of the capital, Qapauma. Perhaps I’m not thinking big enough, initially believing the importance of this place is confined to the land upon which it’s located, when, instead, it impacts all of Pachil. This could apply to the glyphs and their importance to this quest, as well as the locations indicated on the clay pots.
Requiring a little more force this time, I move the stone pillar to the east, based on the sun’s position, toward where I believe Qapauma to be. From the recollection of my time in the Maqanuiache and battles fought within the territory, Tapeu is predominantly grasslands, though it’s protected by a border of mountains that separate it from the other factions, as well as a dense jungle to its south. The trees outside of this clearing continue their supernatural movement, wooshing as they dart into various positions. The closer I get to the rock’s destination, more saplings begin to sprout around it and in its wake, pushing through the ground and miraculously coming to life about my feet.
When the stone is placed, the trees beyond continue to move, altering their locations and maneuvering themselves along the perimeter of the distant area. Once settled, their trunks grow thicker and denser, and their height reaches even higher toward the sky. I get the sense that they are securing this place, preventing any outsider from penetrating the area and finding what’s contained within.
My celebrations of this accomplishment are short-lived. With one stone placed, I look at the other five, recognizing that my task is far from completed. However, I’ve managed to decipher one stone already, and I start to believe I have the ability to discern the meaning of these glyphs, given enough time. Understanding that the glyphs seem to represent more than just the present location in which I find myself, I focus my attention to all of Pachil, the entirety of the land and its people, hoping this realization will best guide me to revealing whatever is contained here.
The next stone I inspect has more unfamiliar glyphs, but the words for ‘Wind’, ‘Water’, and ‘Pachil’ stand out. I remember the smaller stone also possessing ‘Wind’ and ‘Water’, determining the glyph it was pointing me to meant ‘Movement’ or ‘Motion’, which is how I stumbled upon—almost literally—how the stones can be moved. The addition of ‘Pachil’ is what causes my confusion. How is Pachil related to movement or motion?
I think about all the rivers in Pachil, how they flow out to sea, and start there. But how does ‘Wind’ tie into that? ‘Wind’ can refer to ‘Movement’, but what reason is it being combined with ‘Water’ and ‘Pachil’? Recognizing that there are waterways throughout the land, and the wind could also sweep through that land, they both travel far to reach their destinations—the waters beginning from the mountains and flowing to the sea, the wind sweeping through the jungles, over the mountains, and through the plains. Perhaps the glyph is indicating traveling over this land? If so, where does this mean the stone pillar should be placed?
Looking down toward the ground, I observe that, embedded in the landscape, are subtle, naturally formed paths that seem to lead in certain directions. Should the stone follow this path? I move the rock around, following along the indicated markings to see if any events similar to the other stone takes place. Nothing happens, and after a few attempts, I begin to feel resigned, ready to abandon this stone and move onto another. It’s when I see that, when I move the stone upon one path in particular, the landscape beyond becomes affected by my movement. While tracing the path in this clearing, loud, resonating trembles shake the area as I push the rock. It’s as though the stone is creating the same path on the larger area contained within the trees. The crags move along with me, and I realize I’m shaping that space, which must contain what I’ve been sent here to seek.
The stone hits a certain point, securing it into place. A long dirt trail has been carved out, leading from a particular point out to the edge of the designated area. Is this the way out? But how do I get to it from here, upon this plateau with no distinguishable path leading to it? Is there another hidden chamber, similar to the one I used to get to this clearing?
Next to me is another stone pillar, and I immediately begin searching it for clues in regards to its purpose. How will this stone add to or enhance the plot of land below? The glyphs I recognize here are ‘Sun’, ‘Moon’, and ‘Fire’. Without hesitation, my mind arrives to the notion of light, of illumination. Perhaps this stone will “light” my way, guiding me toward the destination. Now, to figure out where it must go…
As I read the glyphs, I notice how much shinier this rock is from the others I’ve encountered, its surface more reflective. Perhaps this indicates the stone’s designated use? An area of this clearing receives noticeably more sunlight—it’s the area where the llama is presently laying, keeping itself warm while waiting patiently for me to complete my task. I displace the animal by maneuvering the rock into the bright location. This is much to its annoyance and dismay, indicated clearly by its loud snort in disapproval as it shuffles away, and I find myself apologizing to the llama.
Rays of the sun bounce from this stone and beam onto a point in this clearing. Looking out into the mirroring space beyond, I see that the larger stone has also repositioned itself and reflects the sunlight onto a similar point within the sectioned off location. It must be indicating something important at that spot, yet I’m unable to understand what it’s pointing me toward at this time. However, I feel my heart racing as I realize I’m that much closer to finding the solution.
With ever-growing determination, I swiftly move onto the next pillar, one that happens to be located closest to the Illumination stone. I excitedly read aloud the words I can identify: ‘Wind’, ‘Fire’, and ‘Water’. All three of these glyphs have caused me trouble previously, with difficult to navigate challenges confronting me in an effort to stop me from advancing to this place. As such, I become concerned with the potential implications. Could this combination mean ‘Destruction’ or ‘Transform’ or ‘Change’? Each element has the possibility and capability of achieving this, as I’ve encountered already.
Thinking about the latter two, I alter my interpretation a bit, focusing more on the productive aspects. With the stones I’ve moved already, I’ve essentially “transformed” and “changed” the area, not “destroyed” it, after all. Perhaps my fears are being misplaced, and I should instead view this glyph to indicate something constructive. Each element mentioned has the capability to not only destroy or transform, but also energize and revitalize. Such a transformation could be positive—water helps the plants grow, fire turns wood into warmth, wind provides respite from the sweltering days. Maybe the glyph is indicating elements of life-giving power, of awakening and activating human existence. It might be a reach, but in combination with the other stones, it makes more sense to me that this pillar is to be used in harmony with the others, not to tear them all down and destroy them.
I bring the stone to the location indicated by the beam of light, the spot that has been transformed by my repositioning of these pillars. As I get closer to the point, the stone grows warmer and warmer—not scalding hot, but a nurturing, comforting warmth that takes the biting chill out of the dry air. Once secured, the stone rumbles and vibrates as if brought to life. I look out to the nearby space to see what alterations have come of this new addition. The tremor shakes the ground, revealing a large circle of dirt as though to emphasize the importance of that area. Besides the stone and the light shining upon it, however, I don’t see anything else; no passageway, no chamber, no door, no building. Nothing other than the large rock with light cast onto it.
There are still two stones remaining, so while I’m initially disappointed at the lack of a grand reveal, I maintain my determination to see this through, figuring the other two stones must have their importance in regards to the solution like the others. The closest stone to me now has just two words I know: ‘Cloud’ and ‘Water’. My first thought is of the rain, how it nourishes the land and our crops when it falls. However, words like ‘Revive’ has already been indicated elsewhere, and this glyph is certainly distinct from the other.
While the larger glyph on each stone has been focusing on the relationship between the smaller words etched beneath it, this relationship appears to direct attention to the coming together of the forces of nature, forming one unified element, such as rain. If it were indicating ‘Growth’, would there not also be ‘Tree’ and ‘Sun’, the clear and obvious indicators of the word? No, it must be something simpler than that, something more straightforward.
But, once again, the challenging part: where does it belong in relation to the other stones? If it were implying a union of elements, perhaps it should be centralized, or in a place that can somehow connect to the others. Sweeping my eyes along the ground, I notice that, with all the movement of the stones, the tiny streams are now flowing toward a single, central place in the clearing in which I stand. With rousing interest, I push the stone—much heavier than the others, causing me to struggle mightily—into the point where the streams meet. The larger-scale stone does likewise where it’s located in the nearby grounds, causing more tremors that unsettle the llama, which bleats its contempt. The clouds seemingly follow the stone’s movement, tracking the large rock above it in the sky.
Once placed, rain begins pouring atop the stone, trickling down its face toward the base. Water flows down the surface, along the ground, and finds the circle of dirt, forming dark brown mud that envelopes the other pillar. The field blooms with lush, green grass, and the air, filled with the aroma of freshly-sprouted vegetation, starts to lose its harsh cold as the sun’s warmth caresses my cheeks. I have become revitalized with the realization that there is one stone remaining.
‘Water’, ‘Fire’, ‘Sun’, and ‘Moon’.
At first glance, these elements seem to represent a mixture of contrasts and harmonies. ‘Fire’ and ‘Sun’ share a kinship in warmth and light, both essential for life, yet fierce and consuming. On the other hand, ‘Moon’ and ‘Water’ suggest coolness, reflection, and calm—elements that soothe and restore. The pairing of these elements doesn’t simply suggest opposition, but rather a necessary coexistence.
The moon controls the tides, its gravitational pull influencing the water, while the sun provides the energy that ignites like fire, driving the cycle of life. These connections go beyond mere opposites; they are interconnected parts of a greater whole, a delicate melding of forces that maintain the balance of the natural world. An interplay and interdependence of these elements. They exist not in conflict, but in a state of mutual support, each playing a role in sustaining the equilibrium of life. Just like the sun and moon govern the day and night, fire and water represent transformation and renewal.
As I consider this, a sense of clarity washes over me. Each stone, each word, is not just a singular concept, but a part of a grander design. ‘Guardian’ speaks of protection and stewardship, a reminder of our responsibility towards the land and its inhabitants. ‘Path’ suggests a journey or a direction, indicative of the choices we make and the routes we follow through life. ‘Illuminate’ is about shedding light, uncovering truths, and guiding the way forward with clarity and wisdom. ‘Awaken’ embodies the act of coming into awareness or realization, a call to consciousness and action. ‘Union’ signifies the coming together or convergence of different elements, the merging of paths and ideas to create something unified and whole.
And now, ‘Balance’ or ‘Harmony’. It’s the culmination of all these concepts, an acknowledgment that every aspect of life is interconnected. Each contributes to the equilibrium of the natural and spiritual world. They remind us that life is a delicate balance of elements and forces, each playing its part in the totality of existence.
In this clearing and on these grounds, I see not just a challenge to be solved, but a reflection of the world itself. It’s a microcosm of Pachil, a representation of how everything is connected, each part vital to the harmony of the whole. This understanding deepens my resolve to protect Pachil, to uphold the balance that sustains life. As I step back, viewing the entirety of the arrangement, I feel an overwhelming sense of unity with the land, a profound connection to its spirit and essence.
I realize that where this last stone should be placed should reflect the essence of balance, just as each other stone in this clearing represents a vital aspect of the natural world. It shouldn’t stand alone, but rather in a position that acknowledges its relationship to the other stone pillars, much like how these elements interact in nature. Its placement needs to symbolize the unity that these elements bring to the world—how harmony often lies in embracing and balancing our differences.
With this understanding, I adjust the stone’s position, finding a spot that feels like it bridges the gaps between the others and creates a sense of unity and balance within the miniature landscape. With all the stones placed nearly to one side, I position this pillar on the opposite end, maintaining that balance along with the others.
The ground trembles fiercely, a loud grumble as the tremors can be felt through every bone in my body. The commotion causes the llama to panic and take flight, though its wounded legs bring such an endeavor to an abrupt halt. Yet I know it has nothing to fear: emerging from the grounds beyond to the plateau upon which we stand, large steps made from soil and rock build their way up to our clearing, a gradual descent that makes its way to the landing below.
Once the ground stops shaking, I place the reluctant llama inside the cart along with the clay pot and drag them all down the rugged steps. As the pot and animal jostle about, I pay attention to the altered landscape, seeing the trees that once shifted at irregular periods now resting, no longer abruptly changing positions. Without knowing otherwise, one would assume it was a forest like any other, as a gentle breeze rustles the branches. There is a calm in the stillness, a comfort, as though it’s clear that I’ve nearly completed this part of the quest.
During the quake, the illuminated stone lifted to reveal a hidden chamber located within the muddy circle. Rainwater drips down from the elevated rock and onto the soil, the drops falling softly like a storm that has just ended. The sun’s light lands upon the cavernous section of rock, and though the llama bleats its protest, we proceed to cautiously enter the hollowed space.
The chamber is the size of a room inside a small home, just barely able to contain me, the cart, and the animal. Inside, a chest resembling the one in which we found the papyrus sits on a level plane of rock, its reddish brown wood illuminated by the lone sun beam cast directly upon it like a beacon. More sheets of the papyrus are stored within, containing even more glyphs. I begin to feel slight disappointment, hoping there would be something more blatantly useful, but as I sift through the papyrus, something with a slight weight drops to the bottom of the chest with a small thunk. I hear the sibilance of a metallic chain that slides to follow the item to which it’s attached, and I quickly remove all the other contents to see what it could be.
To my astonishment, I find an amulet—a large, deep blue lapis lazuli stone with veins of gold infused throughout, attached to a simple gold chain. I hold the necklace in my hand, dangling the stone as I inspect it for any markings or glyphs that could indicate its purpose or function. The stone is smooth and has a slight reflective sheen on it, but nothing carved anywhere. There was no such amulet in the first chest Upachu and I discovered; was there such an item that was stolen or sold by Upachu’s “friend”, Qaschiqe? Did he give the amulet over to Achutli? Or worse, did he hand possession of it over to the Eye in the Flame?
While the mystery of this amulet’s purpose lingers and begs to be solved, I follow the path leading out of this place, winding between the large trees protecting these grounds and trailing out. The road is smooth and level, making it mercifully easy to traverse. I depart the large stones and other supernaturally enhanced elements behind me. It’s difficult to explain, but for some reason, I feel a twinge of melancholy leaving this space. Perhaps it’s the harmonizing connection between the glyphs and elements, having overcome the challenges that seem to accept me once they’ve all deemed me worthy.
As I cross the threshold between the enchanted woodlands and the Hilaqta countryside, another chest-pounding tremor explodes behind me. I turn, witnessing the forest twisting and contorting itself as it folds into the landscape, melding into the hills like a baker kneading dough. The towering trees and larger-than-life stone pillars sink into the ground as if being consumed by the land, though looking undisturbed as the peculiar, pristine scenery melts away.
Silence follows once the supernatural setting vanishes out of sight. The landscape has returned to that of familiar Qantua, the rolling sage green hills and sparse vegetation stretches as far as the eye can see amidst the sinking sun. I will forever be perplexed by what I experienced in this place, this strange area of Qantua. Many unwitting travelers will venture here, ignorant to what lies invisible among these hills. Will they arrive to the place I just left? I can’t be certain. All I know, however, is that one of the clay pots led me here, urging me to find what was once hidden. The other three pots must contain invaluable possessions waiting to be discovered, and I’m encouraged by my success here to find them, as well.
As I return to Hilaqta, llama and clay pots in tow, I feel a renewed resoluteness, one that brings me confidence I’ve never before felt. Though many of the glyphs remain a mystery to me, I was able to navigate a wildly difficult location and solve its enigmatic challenges. The connection between nature, the land of Pachil, its people, and the glyphs has never been clearer to me. As the setting sun casts long shadows over the landscape, a sense of unity with Pachil envelops me. The wind seems to acknowledge my achievement, as if the very breath of the land is congratulating me. I can’t help but feel that I’m part of something larger than myself.
As torchlights throughout Hilaqta begin to twinkle in the distance, heralding my return, I realize that this journey has transformed me. No longer am I the hesitant novice who once doubted his abilities. I am a seeker of truths, a decipherer of ancient wisdom, a bridge between the past, the Eleven, and the present. With each step towards my home village, I feel an eagerness for the challenges that await, armed with newfound knowledge and an unshakeable resolve. With a final nod to the land that has taught me so much, I turn towards the Qantua capital, my heart beating in rhythm with the pulse of Pachil, ready for what lies ahead.
The sun warms my face as I come into consciousness, bringing me back into the waking world. Involuntarily, I wince as a searing pain throbs inside my head, like a hundred war drums pounding their rhythms in anticipation of battle. But despite the physical discomfort, I’m eternally grateful to have made it to this point, to have narrowly escaped the collapsing tunnel with my life. The treacherous journey I’ve encountered at this living labyrinth has been greater than I could’ve ever anticipated, and I’m thankful to still be alive after overcoming the challenges.
However, I’m not out of this place yet. Inspecting the scene around me, I’ve reached a rocky clearing devoid of the countless shifting trees that previously surrounded us. There appears to be a small accumulation of stones in a miniature representation of tremendous craggy formations that stand tall and proud far off in the hazy distance. The air is thin and dry with a slight chill, as if I’m on a high plateau in some arid region. Have I been transported from Qantua to another destination?
I dust myself off, looking over to the confused llama lying from exhaustion on the stony ground. Its wool has streaks of scarlet trailing down its front legs, and as it stands up to test them, the llama immediately drops back to the ground, defeated as it takes labored breaths. Despite its injuries, the animal is too valuable to put down, especially knowing I’d be subjecting myself to Upachu’s wrath if I return to Hilaqta without his beloved creature. I can only hope it recovers quickly so that I’m not carrying it and the cart for long distances.
While the llama rests, I walk over to the stone formations that reside a few dozen paces away from me. Tiny clusters of tree saplings sprout from various points among the rocks, and small finger-sized streams of water trickle through the space. Inspecting them, they appear to be untouched by human hands, their surfaces not smooth, but rather jagged, rugged, and misshapen. Yet the way in which they have been positioned in this area feels unnatural, as though they’ve been placed here my some larger hands. Was this formed by the Timuaq?
Curious by these strange formations, I look them over, attempting to identify any indication as to how they arrived here. As I inspect the stones, there appears to be similar glyphs to what I’ve seen at previous locations in this enchanted place and on the papyrus, faintly etched into the surface. There is a significant amount of them, carved into the rocks in long lines of symbols, and then one large glyph above the flurry of others. Many of them are unrecognizable to me, and to my dismay, there are no illustrations as to what they represent like what I encountered at the start of my time here. The dizzying swirl of various lines and curves confuses me as I attempt to decipher what these long stretches of glyphs indicates, to no avail.
Disappointed, I begin to drift back to the llama, to join the animal in its defeated sulk. Before I reach it, however, I pause in contemplation. I’ve managed to distinguish certain characters and symbols before—it’s how I was able to reach this point in the quest. Perhaps I can use clues from the words I know to help me decipher the ones I do not. I may not get the swath of text completely correct, but I can at least get close. I’ve gotten this far, and I am no quitter, so there’s no excuse in stopping and turning back now. Besides, where would I turn to anyway?
With a newfound determination to solve this riddle, I turn back and charge over to the rock formation. What are the glyphs trying to get me to do, to understand? There are a few words that I’m able to distinguish, the ones I learned before: Wind, Sun, Water, Cloud, Moon, Mountain, Fire, Tree, Pachil. I find them in various locations amidst the slew of other unfamiliar glyphs, but there’s something about their placement that piques my interest. Perhaps it has something to do with the words chosen to be in conjunction with one another that raises my suspicions and curiosities.
Just beyond the formation of stones is one low, isolated rock that rests near the now collapsed mouth of the tunnel from which we emerged. It’s entirely out of place, located far from the collection of other tall, slender stones that jut up from the ground like pillars. Yet on this rock, more glyphs are carved into its surface. How is this short, stubby stone related to the others a few paces away?
There are a few familiar words that appear frequently on this rock, specifically ‘Wind’ and ‘Water’. My immediate reaction is one of nervousness, dreading another physical challenge that I must overcome. My head and body greatly ache, and I’m uncertain whether I’ll be able to endure more punishment without some kind of reprieve. But as I read the glyphs more carefully, they don’t remind me of the warnings regarding the environmental encounters I faced previously. Instead, they strike me as some kind of instructions, informing me of the importance of these elements and their relation to the tall stones.
I stop myself from lamenting the lack of Upachu’s presence here, reminding myself that I’ve been able to distinguish the glyphs’ meaning without him before, and I can do so again here. I concentrate on the words, staring at them as if expecting them to speak to me. Something about how they’re being utilized here… the way this one persistent word appears… I’m reminded of motion or movement, how this particular glyph is shaped in similar sweeping lines like that of the words representing ‘Wind’ and ‘Water’ as opposed to the symbolic images that helped me learn them. The lack of words like ‘Mountain’ or ‘Tree’, words that represent stagnant or still objects, makes me believe I’m onto something with this. Yet what among this place moves?
I recall the tiny streams of water that flow between the stones and saplings, and I believe the clue has something to do with this location. Maybe the water’s movement will lead me to the solution? I search and search, my eyes sweeping the area for anything that moves which could be the answer to whatever I’m being asked to find. Yet besides the tiny water streams, the place is still, silent and peaceful. Attempting to halt the water’s flow only causes the stream to travel around my hand and continue onward, revealing nothing beneath the waters’ surface.
Exasperated, I rest upon one of the stone pillars, leaning against it as I frustratingly stare at the other rocks and sprouts. Perhaps there’s something on these stones that could give me the answer? But by now, after all the trials I’ve completed up to this point, I’m entirely exhausted. My thoughts are slow, and I struggle to process the overwhelming information presented to me.
Just as I place my hand upon the tall rock and rest my weight into it, the ground—no, the entire region, all of Qantua—trembles spectacularly. I freeze in place, and am soon left in astonishment: the stone moves! How am I capable of moving such massive boulders with ease, like a merchant pushing a cart or a farmer pushing a plow? I check the ground for any indication as to how this is possible, but all that remains is dirt in the stone’s wake; no dedicated path exists to guide it, no fixed walls line its way. I’m confused, but also elated. What does the movement and position of these stones mean?
Eagerly seeking the answer, I inspect the rock pillars even more carefully than before, if such an action is possible. The large glyph at the top seems to tell me that it represents a specific word, one I have yet to understand, but I suspect there are clues carved somewhere into the stone to guide me to the answer.
Similar to the solitary short stone, there are a few glyphs I recognize among the many others I don’t: Tree, Mountain, and Sun stand out prominently from the others. I reflect upon the significance of the three words used together in this stone’s instruction, repeating them to myself as I attempt to discover the solution. In Qantua culture, my people perceive these items to be sturdy, reliable objects—the mountain and tree are strong sentinels of our land, and the sun overlooks us as it sheds its life-giving light to protect us. There are likely other conclusions to be made, but with the three of them used in the same lines of glyphs, I determine they have to be connected together in some way.
If the stones can move, then where should this pillar be positioned? Is there an importance as to where the stone is placed? Initially, the only place I can think of is in the direction of Hilaqta, the Qantua capital where the defenders of our territory originate. As I maneuver the stone around the area, the land in the distance shifts along with its movement, with trees wildly repositioning themselves about the enchanted forest.
When I place the rock where I believe it should reside, there is a stillness throughout the space, and I debate whether I’ve made the correct placement or not. I grow concerned about the manipulation of the land, wondering if the alterations I’m making will severely impact Qantua, and I start to question if I should move these stones around at all. But then I recall the shifting trees, trees that had never previously existed in the territory until my encounter with the condor guardian, that made the path into this area nearly impossible to find. I determine that whatever is taking place here is isolated from the rest of Pachil. Or, at least, I hope so.
Thinking further upon the meaning of the glyph, I believe I’m correct in the stone’s significance, but perhaps I’m wrong with what it represents. Maybe it’s not Hilaqta, or Qantua, that is the answer, but all of Pachil, and that the location should be in the direction of the capital, Qapauma. Perhaps I’m not thinking big enough, initially believing the importance of this place is confined to the land upon which it’s located, when, instead, it impacts all of Pachil. This could apply to the glyphs and their importance to this quest, as well as the locations indicated on the clay pots.
Requiring a little more force this time, I move the stone pillar to the east, based on the sun’s position, toward where I believe Qapauma to be. From the recollection of my time in the Maqanuiache and battles fought within the territory, Tapeu is predominantly grasslands, though it’s protected by a border of mountains that separate it from the other factions, as well as a dense jungle to its south. The trees outside of this clearing continue their supernatural movement, wooshing as they dart into various positions. The closer I get to the rock’s destination, more saplings begin to sprout around it and in its wake, pushing through the ground and miraculously coming to life about my feet.
When the stone is placed, the trees beyond continue to move, altering their locations and maneuvering themselves along the perimeter of the distant area. Once settled, their trunks grow thicker and denser, and their height reaches even higher toward the sky. I get the sense that they are securing this place, preventing any outsider from penetrating the area and finding what’s contained within.
My celebrations of this accomplishment are short-lived. With one stone placed, I look at the other five, recognizing that my task is far from completed. However, I’ve managed to decipher one stone already, and I start to believe I have the ability to discern the meaning of these glyphs, given enough time. Understanding that the glyphs seem to represent more than just the present location in which I find myself, I focus my attention to all of Pachil, the entirety of the land and its people, hoping this realization will best guide me to revealing whatever is contained here.
The next stone I inspect has more unfamiliar glyphs, but the words for ‘Wind’, ‘Water’, and ‘Pachil’ stand out. I remember the smaller stone also possessing ‘Wind’ and ‘Water’, determining the glyph it was pointing me to meant ‘Movement’ or ‘Motion’, which is how I stumbled upon—almost literally—how the stones can be moved. The addition of ‘Pachil’ is what causes my confusion. How is Pachil related to movement or motion?
I think about all the rivers in Pachil, how they flow out to sea, and start there. But how does ‘Wind’ tie into that? ‘Wind’ can refer to ‘Movement’, but what reason is it being combined with ‘Water’ and ‘Pachil’? Recognizing that there are waterways throughout the land, and the wind could also sweep through that land, they both travel far to reach their destinations—the waters beginning from the mountains and flowing to the sea, the wind sweeping through the jungles, over the mountains, and through the plains. Perhaps the glyph is indicating traveling over this land? If so, where does this mean the stone pillar should be placed?
Looking down toward the ground, I observe that, embedded in the landscape, are subtle, naturally formed paths that seem to lead in certain directions. Should the stone follow this path? I move the rock around, following along the indicated markings to see if any events similar to the other stone takes place. Nothing happens, and after a few attempts, I begin to feel resigned, ready to abandon this stone and move onto another. It’s when I see that, when I move the stone upon one path in particular, the landscape beyond becomes affected by my movement. While tracing the path in this clearing, loud, resonating trembles shake the area as I push the rock. It’s as though the stone is creating the same path on the larger area contained within the trees. The crags move along with me, and I realize I’m shaping that space, which must contain what I’ve been sent here to seek.
The stone hits a certain point, securing it into place. A long dirt trail has been carved out, leading from a particular point out to the edge of the designated area. Is this the way out? But how do I get to it from here, upon this plateau with no distinguishable path leading to it? Is there another hidden chamber, similar to the one I used to get to this clearing?
Next to me is another stone pillar, and I immediately begin searching it for clues in regards to its purpose. How will this stone add to or enhance the plot of land below? The glyphs I recognize here are ‘Sun’, ‘Moon’, and ‘Fire’. Without hesitation, my mind arrives to the notion of light, of illumination. Perhaps this stone will “light” my way, guiding me toward the destination. Now, to figure out where it must go…
As I read the glyphs, I notice how much shinier this rock is from the others I’ve encountered, its surface more reflective. Perhaps this indicates the stone’s designated use? An area of this clearing receives noticeably more sunlight—it’s the area where the llama is presently laying, keeping itself warm while waiting patiently for me to complete my task. I displace the animal by maneuvering the rock into the bright location. This is much to its annoyance and dismay, indicated clearly by its loud snort in disapproval as it shuffles away, and I find myself apologizing to the llama.
Rays of the sun bounce from this stone and beam onto a point in this clearing. Looking out into the mirroring space beyond, I see that the larger stone has also repositioned itself and reflects the sunlight onto a similar point within the sectioned off location. It must be indicating something important at that spot, yet I’m unable to understand what it’s pointing me toward at this time. However, I feel my heart racing as I realize I’m that much closer to finding the solution.
With ever-growing determination, I swiftly move onto the next pillar, one that happens to be located closest to the Illumination stone. I excitedly read aloud the words I can identify: ‘Wind’, ‘Fire’, and ‘Water’. All three of these glyphs have caused me trouble previously, with difficult to navigate challenges confronting me in an effort to stop me from advancing to this place. As such, I become concerned with the potential implications. Could this combination mean ‘Destruction’ or ‘Transform’ or ‘Change’? Each element has the possibility and capability of achieving this, as I’ve encountered already.
Thinking about the latter two, I alter my interpretation a bit, focusing more on the productive aspects. With the stones I’ve moved already, I’ve essentially “transformed” and “changed” the area, not “destroyed” it, after all. Perhaps my fears are being misplaced, and I should instead view this glyph to indicate something constructive. Each element mentioned has the capability to not only destroy or transform, but also energize and revitalize. Such a transformation could be positive—water helps the plants grow, fire turns wood into warmth, wind provides respite from the sweltering days. Maybe the glyph is indicating elements of life-giving power, of awakening and activating human existence. It might be a reach, but in combination with the other stones, it makes more sense to me that this pillar is to be used in harmony with the others, not to tear them all down and destroy them.
I bring the stone to the location indicated by the beam of light, the spot that has been transformed by my repositioning of these pillars. As I get closer to the point, the stone grows warmer and warmer—not scalding hot, but a nurturing, comforting warmth that takes the biting chill out of the dry air. Once secured, the stone rumbles and vibrates as if brought to life. I look out to the nearby space to see what alterations have come of this new addition. The tremor shakes the ground, revealing a large circle of dirt as though to emphasize the importance of that area. Besides the stone and the light shining upon it, however, I don’t see anything else; no passageway, no chamber, no door, no building. Nothing other than the large rock with light cast onto it.
There are still two stones remaining, so while I’m initially disappointed at the lack of a grand reveal, I maintain my determination to see this through, figuring the other two stones must have their importance in regards to the solution like the others. The closest stone to me now has just two words I know: ‘Cloud’ and ‘Water’. My first thought is of the rain, how it nourishes the land and our crops when it falls. However, words like ‘Revive’ has already been indicated elsewhere, and this glyph is certainly distinct from the other.
While the larger glyph on each stone has been focusing on the relationship between the smaller words etched beneath it, this relationship appears to direct attention to the coming together of the forces of nature, forming one unified element, such as rain. If it were indicating ‘Growth’, would there not also be ‘Tree’ and ‘Sun’, the clear and obvious indicators of the word? No, it must be something simpler than that, something more straightforward.
But, once again, the challenging part: where does it belong in relation to the other stones? If it were implying a union of elements, perhaps it should be centralized, or in a place that can somehow connect to the others. Sweeping my eyes along the ground, I notice that, with all the movement of the stones, the tiny streams are now flowing toward a single, central place in the clearing in which I stand. With rousing interest, I push the stone—much heavier than the others, causing me to struggle mightily—into the point where the streams meet. The larger-scale stone does likewise where it’s located in the nearby grounds, causing more tremors that unsettle the llama, which bleats its contempt. The clouds seemingly follow the stone’s movement, tracking the large rock above it in the sky.
Once placed, rain begins pouring atop the stone, trickling down its face toward the base. Water flows down the surface, along the ground, and finds the circle of dirt, forming dark brown mud that envelopes the other pillar. The field blooms with lush, green grass, and the air, filled with the aroma of freshly-sprouted vegetation, starts to lose its harsh cold as the sun’s warmth caresses my cheeks. I have become revitalized with the realization that there is one stone remaining.
‘Water’, ‘Fire’, ‘Sun’, and ‘Moon’.
At first glance, these elements seem to represent a mixture of contrasts and harmonies. ‘Fire’ and ‘Sun’ share a kinship in warmth and light, both essential for life, yet fierce and consuming. On the other hand, ‘Moon’ and ‘Water’ suggest coolness, reflection, and calm—elements that soothe and restore. The pairing of these elements doesn’t simply suggest opposition, but rather a necessary coexistence.
The moon controls the tides, its gravitational pull influencing the water, while the sun provides the energy that ignites like fire, driving the cycle of life. These connections go beyond mere opposites; they are interconnected parts of a greater whole, a delicate melding of forces that maintain the balance of the natural world. An interplay and interdependence of these elements. They exist not in conflict, but in a state of mutual support, each playing a role in sustaining the equilibrium of life. Just like the sun and moon govern the day and night, fire and water represent transformation and renewal.
As I consider this, a sense of clarity washes over me. Each stone, each word, is not just a singular concept, but a part of a grander design. ‘Guardian’ speaks of protection and stewardship, a reminder of our responsibility towards the land and its inhabitants. ‘Path’ suggests a journey or a direction, indicative of the choices we make and the routes we follow through life. ‘Illuminate’ is about shedding light, uncovering truths, and guiding the way forward with clarity and wisdom. ‘Awaken’ embodies the act of coming into awareness or realization, a call to consciousness and action. ‘Union’ signifies the coming together or convergence of different elements, the merging of paths and ideas to create something unified and whole.
And now, ‘Balance’ or ‘Harmony’. It’s the culmination of all these concepts, an acknowledgment that every aspect of life is interconnected. Each contributes to the equilibrium of the natural and spiritual world. They remind us that life is a delicate balance of elements and forces, each playing its part in the totality of existence.
In this clearing and on these grounds, I see not just a challenge to be solved, but a reflection of the world itself. It’s a microcosm of Pachil, a representation of how everything is connected, each part vital to the harmony of the whole. This understanding deepens my resolve to protect Pachil, to uphold the balance that sustains life. As I step back, viewing the entirety of the arrangement, I feel an overwhelming sense of unity with the land, a profound connection to its spirit and essence.
I realize that where this last stone should be placed should reflect the essence of balance, just as each other stone in this clearing represents a vital aspect of the natural world. It shouldn’t stand alone, but rather in a position that acknowledges its relationship to the other stone pillars, much like how these elements interact in nature. Its placement needs to symbolize the unity that these elements bring to the world—how harmony often lies in embracing and balancing our differences.
With this understanding, I adjust the stone’s position, finding a spot that feels like it bridges the gaps between the others and creates a sense of unity and balance within the miniature landscape. With all the stones placed nearly to one side, I position this pillar on the opposite end, maintaining that balance along with the others.
The ground trembles fiercely, a loud grumble as the tremors can be felt through every bone in my body. The commotion causes the llama to panic and take flight, though its wounded legs bring such an endeavor to an abrupt halt. Yet I know it has nothing to fear: emerging from the grounds beyond to the plateau upon which we stand, large steps made from soil and rock build their way up to our clearing, a gradual descent that makes its way to the landing below.
Once the ground stops shaking, I place the reluctant llama inside the cart along with the clay pot and drag them all down the rugged steps. As the pot and animal jostle about, I pay attention to the altered landscape, seeing the trees that once shifted at irregular periods now resting, no longer abruptly changing positions. Without knowing otherwise, one would assume it was a forest like any other, as a gentle breeze rustles the branches. There is a calm in the stillness, a comfort, as though it’s clear that I’ve nearly completed this part of the quest.
During the quake, the illuminated stone lifted to reveal a hidden chamber located within the muddy circle. Rainwater drips down from the elevated rock and onto the soil, the drops falling softly like a storm that has just ended. The sun’s light lands upon the cavernous section of rock, and though the llama bleats its protest, we proceed to cautiously enter the hollowed space.
The chamber is the size of a room inside a small home, just barely able to contain me, the cart, and the animal. Inside, a chest resembling the one in which we found the papyrus sits on a level plane of rock, its reddish brown wood illuminated by the lone sun beam cast directly upon it like a beacon. More sheets of the papyrus are stored within, containing even more glyphs. I begin to feel slight disappointment, hoping there would be something more blatantly useful, but as I sift through the papyrus, something with a slight weight drops to the bottom of the chest with a small thunk. I hear the sibilance of a metallic chain that slides to follow the item to which it’s attached, and I quickly remove all the other contents to see what it could be.
To my astonishment, I find an amulet—a large, deep blue lapis lazuli stone with veins of gold infused throughout, attached to a simple gold chain. I hold the necklace in my hand, dangling the stone as I inspect it for any markings or glyphs that could indicate its purpose or function. The stone is smooth and has a slight reflective sheen on it, but nothing carved anywhere. There was no such amulet in the first chest Upachu and I discovered; was there such an item that was stolen or sold by Upachu’s “friend”, Qaschiqe? Did he give the amulet over to Achutli? Or worse, did he hand possession of it over to the Eye in the Flame?
While the mystery of this amulet’s purpose lingers and begs to be solved, I follow the path leading out of this place, winding between the large trees protecting these grounds and trailing out. The road is smooth and level, making it mercifully easy to traverse. I depart the large stones and other supernaturally enhanced elements behind me. It’s difficult to explain, but for some reason, I feel a twinge of melancholy leaving this space. Perhaps it’s the harmonizing connection between the glyphs and elements, having overcome the challenges that seem to accept me once they’ve all deemed me worthy.
As I cross the threshold between the enchanted woodlands and the Hilaqta countryside, another chest-pounding tremor explodes behind me. I turn, witnessing the forest twisting and contorting itself as it folds into the landscape, melding into the hills like a baker kneading dough. The towering trees and larger-than-life stone pillars sink into the ground as if being consumed by the land, though looking undisturbed as the peculiar, pristine scenery melts away.
Silence follows once the supernatural setting vanishes out of sight. The landscape has returned to that of familiar Qantua, the rolling sage green hills and sparse vegetation stretches as far as the eye can see amidst the sinking sun. I will forever be perplexed by what I experienced in this place, this strange area of Qantua. Many unwitting travelers will venture here, ignorant to what lies invisible among these hills. Will they arrive to the place I just left? I can’t be certain. All I know, however, is that one of the clay pots led me here, urging me to find what was once hidden. The other three pots must contain invaluable possessions waiting to be discovered, and I’m encouraged by my success here to find them, as well.
As I return to Hilaqta, llama and clay pots in tow, I feel a renewed resoluteness, one that brings me confidence I’ve never before felt. Though many of the glyphs remain a mystery to me, I was able to navigate a wildly difficult location and solve its enigmatic challenges. The connection between nature, the land of Pachil, its people, and the glyphs has never been clearer to me. As the setting sun casts long shadows over the landscape, a sense of unity with Pachil envelops me. The wind seems to acknowledge my achievement, as if the very breath of the land is congratulating me. I can’t help but feel that I’m part of something larger than myself.
As torchlights throughout Hilaqta begin to twinkle in the distance, heralding my return, I realize that this journey has transformed me. No longer am I the hesitant novice who once doubted his abilities. I am a seeker of truths, a decipherer of ancient wisdom, a bridge between the past, the Eleven, and the present. With each step towards my home village, I feel an eagerness for the challenges that await, armed with newfound knowledge and an unshakeable resolve. With a final nod to the land that has taught me so much, I turn towards the Qantua capital, my heart beating in rhythm with the pulse of Pachil, ready for what lies ahead.
