“How do you know they are headed to Qapauma now?” Mexqutli is confused by my revelation, but it’s the only one that makes sense. The mystery as to why the gray beasts abruptly left us behind as they raced south leaves me perplexed. However, there must be a reason for their sudden departure, and I’m fairly confident I know the dreadful answer.
“When I was captured and in the presence of the Sunfire,” I say, standing up to pace while I talk through my explanation, “he mentioned that the Eye in the Flame was preparing to gain control over their homeland, Ulxa.”
“Yes, we are all aware of this,” Mexqutli says, sounding bored and annoyed, wanting me to get to my point quickly.
“But,” I press on, ignoring his poor manners, “he also discussed why he believed the Timuaq fell—‘due to their own arrogance,’ he claimed—and that all the other factions won’t be able to resist what’s coming. As though we’re all merely placeholders while they plan to pick up where the Timuaq left off.”
“You’re proposing this cult, whom we’ve only encountered here in the north of Pachil, have ambitions of conquering the entire continent?” Sianchu seems unable to grasp the Eye in the Flame’s delusional ambitions.
“The Sunfire genuinely believes the Eye in the Flame can sustain their rule where the Timuaq could not,” I answer, picking up my pace in an effort to calm myself down and not respond patronizingly. “Whether we believe that or not is inconsequential; this Sunfire person believes the followers of this cult are chosen by their god, Ez… Ezel…”
“Eztletiqa,” Mexqutli once again corrects my pronunciation, saying the god’s name with ease.
“Right, him. Anyway, they figure to carry out this Sunfire’s plan to conquer what he believes is rightfully theirs.”
“Then why does he not instead conquer the Ulxa, and then use their forced servitude to attack the Tapeu capital?” Mexqutli questions.
“Because that would take too long,” I reply. “The march from Ulxa to Tapeu would go through numerous territories, who could all send messengers that are fleet of foot racing to the capital to warn them. When they have the capabilities to create their own armies of warriors from anywhere, they can instead quickly launch an assault. And if it fails–“
“They’ll simply create more warriors from the deceased to launch another attack,” Sianchu finishes my thought. This grim comprehension immediately dampens the mood, knowing we likely encountered only a minuscule number of gray creatures in the cult’s control. Although I was initially invigorated by our discussion, this realization, as well as looking at the devastation around us, immediately brings me down from my excitable temperament.
The Qantua warriors, wounded and weary, are clearly demoralized by what they just faced in battle. Their once steadfast gazes now flicker with uncertainty, their stoic expressions occasionally breaking to reveal the underlying fear and exhaustion. As they tend to their injuries and prepare a meager camp, hushed conversations ripple through their ranks. I sense their growing disillusionment, the creeping doubt about our mission’s feasibility. The prospect of facing an army capable of resurrecting its fallen warriors is daunting, and grasping the task ahead threatens to crush our resolve.
“We must move quickly,” Sianchu’s low rumble breaks the silence. “If the Eye in the Flame is indeed marching towards Qapauma, we have little time to waste.”
Mexqutli nods in agreement, his usual calm demeanor now edged with urgency. “We need to warn the capital. The Tapeu must prepare for what is coming.”
My mind races with plans and strategies. “We’ll send scouts ahead to Qapauma with the news. They must know what they’re up against.”
Dusk begins to settle among the remnants of Xaqelatun. While we make preparations to rest before moving out at the break of dawn, it’s clear there are those among the Qantua warriors who, at the present moment, are not interested in sleep. Before we can finalize our plan, the crunch of hurried footsteps approaches our location.
“We must discuss this mission before we carry on any further,” one of the men speaks. His black and gold tunic is heavily covered in blood and the thick, black residue emitted from slain gray beasts. “Our numbers our insufficient for this threat, and we will need to reconsider what is being asked of our men.”
“I regret the swaths of brave Qantua warriors lost in battle,” I respond, which is met with scoffs and sneers. “It’s a matter that weighs heavily on my heart. The battle we faced was unlike any other we’ve before encountered, and even I was caught off-guard by the new developments and capabilities the gray creatures now possess. However, we can’t allow fear to dictate our actions and steer us away from our course.”
“It’s not about fear, Tuatiu girl,” Tiahesi says as he steps forward, his tone edging towards accusation. “It’s about leading us into an uncertain war, based on guesses and assumptions. We’ve lost too many good warriors already. How can you assure us that you’re not simply leading us to our doom?”
The gathered group murmurs in agreement. I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves so as to not lash out at this insufferable fool. “Are we not warriors? Is it not our duty to bring the fight to the enemy, near or far? We fight for those who can’t defend themselves. We fight to defend our homelands. If a warrior backs down from a fight, are they a warrior at all?”
“The Tuatiu girl is right” Mexqutli remarks, stepping up beside me. “We have a responsibility to protect our land, our people. This is bigger than any one group or any single battle.”
Sianchu nods, his expression solemn. “Our choice is between risking a battle or allowing a greater evil to spread unchecked. We stand a chance if we unite and face this threat together.”
I step closer to Tiahesi, my tone unwavering. “A true warrior doesn’t shrink from a challenge, nor do they ignore a rising storm on the horizon. We stand, we fight, not just for today, but for the future of our people. I lead to defend, to protect, and to ensure that our children and their children inherit a land free from the tyranny of dark forces.”
The group falls silent, considering our words. Some nod with a newfound understanding in their eyes, while others seem to grapple with my words. Though still visibly conflicted, Tiahesi steps back, his challenge waning under the strength of my conviction. I can see the conflict in their collective eyes, the struggle between fear and duty. To hear such talk from outsiders must be discomforting to them, but there are broader implications of the mission that must be understood.
“You may loose a pretty arrow, but you have no concept of what it takes to develop a strategy, girl,” Tiahesi scowls. “You would rather lead warriors to their deaths than formulate a real, effective plan.”
I stand tall, aware that this moment is as much about rallying their spirits as it is about setting the course of action. Yet this direct confrontation frustrates me to no end. When the Eye in the Flame was brought to their attention, they were nothing more than a passing thought to the Qantua. Now that they’ve witnessed what was experienced by Mexqutli, Sianchu, and my people, they question the mission? It should be a clear indication that we must defeat these foes before they grow in superiority to our capabilities.
“Fine,” I snarl. “If you’re too much of a coward to face the enemy directly, you can travel with a band of men to the mountains between Tuatiu and Tapeu. There’s an outpost of theirs out that way. Go climb the mountains and level their base of operations. Mexqutli and I have already done the difficult work of clearing it out for you, so you’ll only need to stroll in and torch their buildings. Is that a more suitable plan for your skill set? Or are you afraid it may get your hands too dirty?”
The warriors step forward, growling their objections and hurtling insults. I simply stare back at them, daring them to confront me. I make one statement calling out their cowardice and they’ve suddenly discovered their vigor again. Before Tiahesi and I come to blows, Sianchu steps between us.
“The day has been long, and the losses great. We have all suffered a trying day. Let us reconvene in the morning, after we’ve been able to gain much-needed rest.”
The Qantua warriors remain unsettled and furious, yet they bite their tongues. Their stares say it all, ready to strike me down. I
“Inuxeq,” Sianchu says, grabbing my arm before I can storm off. “You may not like the demeanor of these warriors, but they’re the only support we’ve got out here. You are a brave warrior, that is unquestionable. But you need to understand that, if you are to lead these warriors, you need to inspire confidence through wisdom, not just this bravery. You cannot simply charge forward; you also need to know when to hold back and listen. One earns trust through understanding and respect, even if you may not share the same feelings or opinions.”
“I hadn’t set out to be a leader,” I charge. “I only want to wipe this scourge off the face of Pachil.”
“Yet you are the leader, whether you like it or not,” Sianchu counters. “And as such, your actions and words carry weight far beyond your own intentions. Disparaging their fears or questioning their courage only sows division. To lead is to serve—serve the cause, yes, but also serve those who fight for it beside you.
“In moments of tension, you must be the calm in the storm, the voice that steadies the wavering, not the gale that topples them. Let tonight’s rest bring clarity and reflection; tomorrow’s challenges will need us united, not fractured by disdain or pride.”
Sianchu pats me on the shoulder with a consoling grin. His firm yet quietly urgent words leave me grappling with a storm of emotions. Though his counsel meant to guide me, it feels like a reprimand—a sharp reminder of the daunting undertaking of leadership I never asked for, but have inevitably shouldered. The night promises little rest, yet amidst the turmoil, a begrudging respect for Sianchu’s wisdom takes root. He hints at the growth and understanding that true leadership demands, a lesson learned in the hardest of ways under the unforgiving gaze of a starless sky.
My anger follows me as I settle into my bedroll, hoping to recover well enough before we must change course and hurry to Qapauma. Our encounter in Xaqelatun has been beyond unfortunate and challenging, but we must persevere and press on. As I drift towards a fitful slumber, hindered by the throbbing pain in my ankle and arm and the lingering echoes of my conflict with the Qantua warriors, I steel myself for the challenges that await. The night may be restless, but it’s merely a brief pause in our mission—a mission I am resolutely committed to continue in the morning.
As dawn casts a soft golden light over our encampment, the air is filled with the sounds of warriors preparing for the day’s march. The Qantua have laid the fallen warriors to rest, repeating their names to account for those they have lost, ensuring their names will be echoed in the Great Library for eternity. A good number of men and women have been defeated, something that troubles me greatly when considering what we must still face. With this at the front of my mind, I dispatch a handful of swift scouts ahead to Qapauma, to gauge what awaits us on this perilous path. Then, collecting my strength and resolve, I gather Mexqutli and Sianchu, ready to announce our next move.
“Warriors,” I begin, my voice carrying across the gathered crowd, “our path leads us south, to Qapauma.”
Grumbling ripples through the ranks, a mix of surprise and discontent. “South?” some of the warriors shout their remarks. “To Qapauma? We thought our fight was for Hilaqta.”
I meet their challenging gaze, looking out among the men and women with my chin held high, understanding the depth of their loyalty to Qantua. Sianchu’s words ring in my ears, reminding me to be the steadfast voice, to inspire confidence through wisdom. “Our duty isn’t only to ourselves, but to all of Pachil. What we encountered here is part of something much larger, something that endangers every faction. If the Eye in the Flame is indeed marching on Qapauma, it’s not just the capital at risk—it’s every faction, every village, every family. We might be the only defense Qapauma has at preventing catastrophe.”
Mexqutli nods in support. "The Eye in the Flame has ambitions that threaten every corner of our continent. We cannot allow them to gain a foothold in Qapauma.”
Dissent ripples through the crowd. Some warriors exchange skeptical looks, while others nod in reluctant agreement. The tension is palpable. Seizing the opportunity, Tiahesi steps forward, his face etched with incredulity. “Why would we abandon our own lands for the Tapeu capital, to help the Arbiter who has threatened to withhold resources from our people?”
“We are warriors,” I say, addressing all who have gathered, not just Tiahesi. “But not just warriors of Qantua, or Tuatiu, or Tapeu, or Ulxa—we are warriors of Pachil. Our duty transcends the boundaries of our lands. Our courage is not limited to battles fought on familiar soil.”
I pause, letting my words sink in before continuing, “Yes, we've faced significant losses, and each fallen warrior did so with honor, defending our people. But to turn back now would be a disservice to their sacrifice. They fought and fell so that we could carry on this fight—to defend not just Qantua, but every region of our land from a threat that seeks to engulf us all.”
Now, I lock eyes with Tiahesi, my tone unwavering, “Uncertainty is the nature of war, but courage lies in facing the unknown. We owe it to those we’ve lost and those we’ve sworn to protect. If a warrior backs down from a fight, they may live, but at what cost? We fight because if we don’t, who will?”
The mutterings of those assembled subside, replaced by a heavy silence. As they consider my words, I leave them with one final thought. “The Eye in the Flame is unlike any foe we’ve encountered—you’ve seen this for yourself. If they are not stopped, the devastation will not end at our borders; it will consume all of Pachil.”
While not entirely convinced nor motivated, most of the warriors seem resigned to this course of action, to what fate may have prepared for them. Tiahesi, along with a few others, look unamused, their scowls visibly holding back their desire to challenge my authority. Perhaps he’s willing to forego his duty to oppose me. However, experience and restraint appear to win out, and Tiahesi backs down from the confrontation, for now.
We march in a southernly direction, traveling another long trek, as the rich, red soil collects on my boots. The mountains stand sentinel in the distance, overlooking the fields of gold that rustle from the soft yet refreshing breeze. The weather in Tuatiu only consists of two seasons: rainy and sunny. To experience the brisk chill of a winter was alarming, at first, yet now it’s oddly comforting since I’ve adapted to these strange lands.
As we make our way toward Qapauma, I notice Mexqutli appearing troubled. He’s been muttering to himself in that harsh Ulxa language I find so jarring. Sianchu has begun ignoring him, not wanting any more confrontation in these tense times. Yet his demeanor is difficult for me to ignore.
“What troubles you?” I ask. It takes me a few attempts before he finally responds, his gaze lingering on the horizon.
Mexqutli hesitates, the conflict within him almost palpable. “It is… the path on which we find ourselves,” he eventually says. “In the pursuit of peace, sometimes we must navigate through the shadows, to confront the darkness where it lies deepest.”
I’m confused by his choice of enigmatic words that seem to carry a deeper meaning, one veiled in ambiguity. “The darkness being the Eye in the Flame, of course?” I probe, hoping to untangle his cryptic message.
He gives a short, humorless laugh, looking away. “Yes, among others. They say to defeat a snake, one must remove the head. But what if the snake has many heads, or if its venom has spread too far?”
A chill runs down my spine, and I quickly realize it’s due to the possible implication of his words. “You speak as if the snake lies not just in the grass, but within our own borders,” I say, watching for any indication of affirmation.
A momentary look of conflict flicker through Mexqutli’s eyes. “The land we cherish may harbor its own poison” he murmurs, almost as if he’s lost in thought. “To cleanse it, one must be willing to reveal the roots of corruption, no matter how deep they burrow.”
There’s something about his demeanor, about his seeming admission, that hints at a deeper truth he’s unwilling to share. I’ve never seen this side of him before, and it’s off-putting to see him in such a daze. However, before I can press him further on this, we’re interrupted by the arrival of our scouts.
“Up ahead,” one of the men informs me, panting heavily between words, “we’ve got something you may find interesting.”
With my curiosity piqued, Mexqutli, Sianchu, and I are met by two of the other scouts who have apprehended someone in an ashen gray robe. With the hood removed, his snarl looks increasingly sinister when paired with a balding head and stubble across his cheeks, emphasizing his gaunt features. Blood coats his stomach and streaks down his legs, and I fear the worst, believing he’s been engaged in another one of their sick, twisted rituals.
Disgusted, I charge up to the man, who gazes back at me with beady, black eyes. “Explain yourself,” I command. “We demand to know where your accomplices fled, those whose hands are stained with the blood of our kin!”
The zealot now smirks a knowing, vulpine grin. His chest heaves as if struggling for breath as he wheezes, “You seek death, girl. The Eye in the Flame will conquer all inferior enemies that dare get the way of claiming what is rightfully–“
“Yes, yes, we’ve heard all this before,” I practically yawn. “Tell us where they are or we will slay you where you stand.”
“You will do me great honor,” he says. “I will be delivered to Eztletiqa and serve by His side, as all who worship the one true god shall.”
“Such people that have left you to rot?” Mexqutli asks, pointing to the blood on the foe’s robes. “You are wounded, and they have deemed you worthless, abandoning you and leaving you for the condors.”
He sneers, “I am chosen and deemed worthy by the only one who may place judgement on me: Eztletiqa, god of the nurturing fire that gives and extinguishes life.”
“Just as there is an entire pantheon of gods who have some importance in the land of Pachil,” Sianchu snarks. “Eztletiqa happens to be the one your cult designated to worship, is all.”
“You may call us a ‘cult’ or whatever insult you choose,” the robed zealot states, “but when all of Pachil is brought to the feet of Eztletiqa and begs Him for His mercy, you will then know the folly of your ways.”
I strike him with a straight cross to his jaw, causing him to involuntarily whimper. I growl through my grinding teeth, “We’ve heard enough of your maniacal mutterings. Tell us where the others have gone, now!”
“As I said before I was rudely interrupted,” he says before a bout of coughing, “the Eye in the Flame is off to reclaim what is rightfully ours. We are marshaling our forces for an assault on Qapauma and Analoixan.”
“Both capitals?” one of the Qantua leaders asks, stunned. The robed man simply smiles in response as the Qantua warriors who surround me stand with mouths agape in shock. I refrain from scolding those that confronted me earlier, instead focusing my energy on this cultist who believes himself to be a martyr.
“We must hurry to the capital!” another Qantua leader shouts urgently. “We must warn the Arbiter!”
“You are too late to save your precious ruler,” the robed man says. “The forces of the Eye in the Flame will descend upon the throne and triumphantly reclaim it. As for you…” The whites of his eyes swirl with an inky black like a night sky as an otherworldly blue glow emanates from his balled-up fists, which crackle and hiss like serpents. The pulsing azure light flickers, sending ripples through the air that hums around him with the surge of a brewing storm. “You shall suffer the same fate as those in the capital!”
I take several leaps backward and shield myself with my arms, bracing for whatever this sorcerer has planned. Mexqutli and Sianchu take similar measures, but the rest of the Qantua who encircle him are not prepared for what comes. A burst of energy explodes from the man’s fists, sending the two scouts who apprehended him, as well as the other unfortunate warriors surrounding him, flying in all directions. I am knocked backwards, landing on my already injured arm that thrums in agony upon impact.
As though unimpeded by his wounds, the sorcerer stands in defiance, more blue radiates from his hands. With a single thrust, several spheres of glowing blue launch from his wrists like arrows toward the warriors, forcing several to desperately hurl themselves out of the way.
Reeling from the initial onslaught, I push through the pain in my arm, scrambling to my feet. The sorcerer’s robe billows like smoke in the wind, his eyes a vortex of unyielding malice. He channels more of his dark, azure energy through his twisted and gnarled fingers. Each flick of his wrist sends another wave of blue spheres crackling through the air, forcing the Qantua warriors to desperately evade the incoming projectiles.
With daggers in his hands, Mexqutli weaves through the chaos and charges toward the sorcerer. His eyes alight with a fiery determination I haven’t witnessed since the assault at Iantana, as his skilled hands maneuver each dagger like a living extension of his will, their obsidian edges catching the sunlight with every precise, fluid movement. He darts and weaves with the agility of a puma, progressing toward the cultist in spite of the fiery attacks hurtling at him.
As he charges the sorcerer, his daggers arc and slice through the air, parrying the incoming attacks while seeking an opening. Each of Mexqutli’s strikes meets a barrier of pulsating azure energy, deflecting his obsidian blades with a force that sends electrifying shivers crackling up his arms. With eyes that burn with a relentless will, the sorcerer summons a protective whirlwind of blue fire around himself, creating a blazing shield that repels Mexqutli’s flurry of attacks. The Iqsuwa rolls and pivots out of the way, narrowly avoiding the searing blasts, his body mere inches from the scorching flames.
Sianchu shouts orders, his voice cutting through the din of battle as he attempts to corral the Qantua into a more strategic formation. Around us, the Qantua warriors rally with bronze swords glimmering in the midday sun. They move into position, creating a formidable wall that narrows the sorcerer’s field of action.
Undeterred, the sorcerer sends a blistering onslaught of blue fire arcing across the field. We dodge and weave, the air thick with the scent of scorched soil as the balls of fire strike the ground. But despite his unrelenting display, the sorcerer’s limits begin to show; his movements, though still lethal, betray a waning endurance. His wounds have begun to catch up to him, as the frenzied attacks start to slow.
Mexqutli swiftly feints to the left, drawing the sorcerer’s attention. He then lunges forward, the muscles in his arms tensing as he unleashes a barrage of rapid stabs and slashes. Mexqutli is unyielding as the sorcerer falters under this relentless assault. He ducks under a wild swing from the sorcerer’s fists engulfed in blue flames, and responds with a swift upward strike that forces the cultist to step back, creating a crucial opportunity.
Seizing the moment, I hurriedly nock an arrow to Sachia’s ornate bow, my focus narrowing to the figure before me. Despite the pain lancing through my injured arm, I draw the groaning bowstring back taut. Mexqutli flanks the sorcerer, whirling his daggers furiously to throw the sorcerer off balance, thus creating the opening I need.
With a breath that tastes of dust, I steel myself for this shot. Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out. I release the arrow. It flies, straight and true, piercing the cultist in the left breast. The sorcerer’s cry, a mix of shock and defeat, pierces the air, and he crumples to the ground. As he lays dying, he lifts his head as though to say his final words. However, before they can be uttered, Mexqutli trudges over and, with a swift motion, cleanly slices the sorcerer’s neck. The blue light in his hands dim and die out like the last of a storm.
A hushed silence descends, broken only by the ragged breaths of the weary warriors. Standing among the devastation in a slight daze, I’m gradually brought back to the realization of what danger awaits, for us and for Pachil. Pointing to multiple Qantua warriors, I urgently bark out commands. “You three, hurry to Qapauma with utmost speed. Warn them of the approaching threat! Evade the Eye in the Flame at all costs, and find another way into the city if you run into their forces. Go now!”
The three warriors dash forward, their arms tightly gripping their weapons, legs churning with the fervor of cartwheels on rugged terrain. Surveying the aftermath, we tend to our wounded. A silent prayer of thanks to the Eleven escapes our lips for the lives spared. Yet the ease with which a single adversary wreaked havoc upon us sows seeds of fear and doubt in my heart. The overwhelming might of the Eye in the Flame looms over us like a dark cloud that threatens to engulf our every effort. Questions gnaw at me, relentless and heavy: Are we truly equipped to halt this tide of malevolence? Do we possess even a glimmer of hope against such an overwhelming enemy?
I push such fear and doubt from my mind. There is no hesitation nor uncertainty in a Tuatiu warrior. In me. The faith Haluiqa placed in my leadership and Teqosa’s steadfast belief in our cause fortify my resolve. History has witnessed the people of Pachil surmounting adversity time and again, often against odds deemed insurmountable. The Timuaq’s long reign ended when they were vanquished by the Eleven, may they forever be praised. It reminds us that no obstacle, no matter its magnitude, can withstand the might of unity and resolve. Clinging to this beacon of hope, I steel myself with the conviction that together, we can—and will—turn the tide, no matter the strength of the looming enemy.
As we collect ourselves and prepare to march onward to Qapauma, several warriors are unaccounted for. Sianchu, Mexqutli, and I exchange a long glance, the same unnerving question hanging in the air between us.
“Where is Tiahesi?”
“How do you know they are headed to Qapauma now?” Mexqutli is confused by my revelation, but it’s the only one that makes sense. The mystery as to why the gray beasts abruptly left us behind as they raced south leaves me perplexed. However, there must be a reason for their sudden departure, and I’m fairly confident I know the dreadful answer.
“When I was captured and in the presence of the Sunfire,” I say, standing up to pace while I talk through my explanation, “he mentioned that the Eye in the Flame was preparing to gain control over their homeland, Ulxa.”
“Yes, we are all aware of this,” Mexqutli says, sounding bored and annoyed, wanting me to get to my point quickly.
“But,” I press on, ignoring his poor manners, “he also discussed why he believed the Timuaq fell—‘due to their own arrogance,’ he claimed—and that all the other factions won’t be able to resist what’s coming. As though we’re all merely placeholders while they plan to pick up where the Timuaq left off.”
“You’re proposing this cult, whom we’ve only encountered here in the north of Pachil, have ambitions of conquering the entire continent?” Sianchu seems unable to grasp the Eye in the Flame’s delusional ambitions.
“The Sunfire genuinely believes the Eye in the Flame can sustain their rule where the Timuaq could not,” I answer, picking up my pace in an effort to calm myself down and not respond patronizingly. “Whether we believe that or not is inconsequential; this Sunfire person believes the followers of this cult are chosen by their god, Ez… Ezel…”
“Eztletiqa,” Mexqutli once again corrects my pronunciation, saying the god’s name with ease.
“Right, him. Anyway, they figure to carry out this Sunfire’s plan to conquer what he believes is rightfully theirs.”
“Then why does he not instead conquer the Ulxa, and then use their forced servitude to attack the Tapeu capital?” Mexqutli questions.
“Because that would take too long,” I reply. “The march from Ulxa to Tapeu would go through numerous territories, who could all send messengers that are fleet of foot racing to the capital to warn them. When they have the capabilities to create their own armies of warriors from anywhere, they can instead quickly launch an assault. And if it fails–“
“They’ll simply create more warriors from the deceased to launch another attack,” Sianchu finishes my thought. This grim comprehension immediately dampens the mood, knowing we likely encountered only a minuscule number of gray creatures in the cult’s control. Although I was initially invigorated by our discussion, this realization, as well as looking at the devastation around us, immediately brings me down from my excitable temperament.
The Qantua warriors, wounded and weary, are clearly demoralized by what they just faced in battle. Their once steadfast gazes now flicker with uncertainty, their stoic expressions occasionally breaking to reveal the underlying fear and exhaustion. As they tend to their injuries and prepare a meager camp, hushed conversations ripple through their ranks. I sense their growing disillusionment, the creeping doubt about our mission’s feasibility. The prospect of facing an army capable of resurrecting its fallen warriors is daunting, and grasping the task ahead threatens to crush our resolve.
“We must move quickly,” Sianchu’s low rumble breaks the silence. “If the Eye in the Flame is indeed marching towards Qapauma, we have little time to waste.”
Mexqutli nods in agreement, his usual calm demeanor now edged with urgency. “We need to warn the capital. The Tapeu must prepare for what is coming.”
My mind races with plans and strategies. “We’ll send scouts ahead to Qapauma with the news. They must know what they’re up against.”
Dusk begins to settle among the remnants of Xaqelatun. While we make preparations to rest before moving out at the break of dawn, it’s clear there are those among the Qantua warriors who, at the present moment, are not interested in sleep. Before we can finalize our plan, the crunch of hurried footsteps approaches our location.
“We must discuss this mission before we carry on any further,” one of the men speaks. His black and gold tunic is heavily covered in blood and the thick, black residue emitted from slain gray beasts. “Our numbers our insufficient for this threat, and we will need to reconsider what is being asked of our men.”
“I regret the swaths of brave Qantua warriors lost in battle,” I respond, which is met with scoffs and sneers. “It’s a matter that weighs heavily on my heart. The battle we faced was unlike any other we’ve before encountered, and even I was caught off-guard by the new developments and capabilities the gray creatures now possess. However, we can’t allow fear to dictate our actions and steer us away from our course.”
“It’s not about fear, Tuatiu girl,” Tiahesi says as he steps forward, his tone edging towards accusation. “It’s about leading us into an uncertain war, based on guesses and assumptions. We’ve lost too many good warriors already. How can you assure us that you’re not simply leading us to our doom?”
The gathered group murmurs in agreement. I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves so as to not lash out at this insufferable fool. “Are we not warriors? Is it not our duty to bring the fight to the enemy, near or far? We fight for those who can’t defend themselves. We fight to defend our homelands. If a warrior backs down from a fight, are they a warrior at all?”
“The Tuatiu girl is right” Mexqutli remarks, stepping up beside me. “We have a responsibility to protect our land, our people. This is bigger than any one group or any single battle.”
Sianchu nods, his expression solemn. “Our choice is between risking a battle or allowing a greater evil to spread unchecked. We stand a chance if we unite and face this threat together.”
I step closer to Tiahesi, my tone unwavering. “A true warrior doesn’t shrink from a challenge, nor do they ignore a rising storm on the horizon. We stand, we fight, not just for today, but for the future of our people. I lead to defend, to protect, and to ensure that our children and their children inherit a land free from the tyranny of dark forces.”
The group falls silent, considering our words. Some nod with a newfound understanding in their eyes, while others seem to grapple with my words. Though still visibly conflicted, Tiahesi steps back, his challenge waning under the strength of my conviction. I can see the conflict in their collective eyes, the struggle between fear and duty. To hear such talk from outsiders must be discomforting to them, but there are broader implications of the mission that must be understood.
“You may loose a pretty arrow, but you have no concept of what it takes to develop a strategy, girl,” Tiahesi scowls. “You would rather lead warriors to their deaths than formulate a real, effective plan.”
I stand tall, aware that this moment is as much about rallying their spirits as it is about setting the course of action. Yet this direct confrontation frustrates me to no end. When the Eye in the Flame was brought to their attention, they were nothing more than a passing thought to the Qantua. Now that they’ve witnessed what was experienced by Mexqutli, Sianchu, and my people, they question the mission? It should be a clear indication that we must defeat these foes before they grow in superiority to our capabilities.
“Fine,” I snarl. “If you’re too much of a coward to face the enemy directly, you can travel with a band of men to the mountains between Tuatiu and Tapeu. There’s an outpost of theirs out that way. Go climb the mountains and level their base of operations. Mexqutli and I have already done the difficult work of clearing it out for you, so you’ll only need to stroll in and torch their buildings. Is that a more suitable plan for your skill set? Or are you afraid it may get your hands too dirty?”
The warriors step forward, growling their objections and hurtling insults. I simply stare back at them, daring them to confront me. I make one statement calling out their cowardice and they’ve suddenly discovered their vigor again. Before Tiahesi and I come to blows, Sianchu steps between us.
“The day has been long, and the losses great. We have all suffered a trying day. Let us reconvene in the morning, after we’ve been able to gain much-needed rest.”
The Qantua warriors remain unsettled and furious, yet they bite their tongues. Their stares say it all, ready to strike me down. I
“Inuxeq,” Sianchu says, grabbing my arm before I can storm off. “You may not like the demeanor of these warriors, but they’re the only support we’ve got out here. You are a brave warrior, that is unquestionable. But you need to understand that, if you are to lead these warriors, you need to inspire confidence through wisdom, not just this bravery. You cannot simply charge forward; you also need to know when to hold back and listen. One earns trust through understanding and respect, even if you may not share the same feelings or opinions.”
“I hadn’t set out to be a leader,” I charge. “I only want to wipe this scourge off the face of Pachil.”
“Yet you are the leader, whether you like it or not,” Sianchu counters. “And as such, your actions and words carry weight far beyond your own intentions. Disparaging their fears or questioning their courage only sows division. To lead is to serve—serve the cause, yes, but also serve those who fight for it beside you.
“In moments of tension, you must be the calm in the storm, the voice that steadies the wavering, not the gale that topples them. Let tonight’s rest bring clarity and reflection; tomorrow’s challenges will need us united, not fractured by disdain or pride.”
Sianchu pats me on the shoulder with a consoling grin. His firm yet quietly urgent words leave me grappling with a storm of emotions. Though his counsel meant to guide me, it feels like a reprimand—a sharp reminder of the daunting undertaking of leadership I never asked for, but have inevitably shouldered. The night promises little rest, yet amidst the turmoil, a begrudging respect for Sianchu’s wisdom takes root. He hints at the growth and understanding that true leadership demands, a lesson learned in the hardest of ways under the unforgiving gaze of a starless sky.
My anger follows me as I settle into my bedroll, hoping to recover well enough before we must change course and hurry to Qapauma. Our encounter in Xaqelatun has been beyond unfortunate and challenging, but we must persevere and press on. As I drift towards a fitful slumber, hindered by the throbbing pain in my ankle and arm and the lingering echoes of my conflict with the Qantua warriors, I steel myself for the challenges that await. The night may be restless, but it’s merely a brief pause in our mission—a mission I am resolutely committed to continue in the morning.
As dawn casts a soft golden light over our encampment, the air is filled with the sounds of warriors preparing for the day’s march. The Qantua have laid the fallen warriors to rest, repeating their names to account for those they have lost, ensuring their names will be echoed in the Great Library for eternity. A good number of men and women have been defeated, something that troubles me greatly when considering what we must still face. With this at the front of my mind, I dispatch a handful of swift scouts ahead to Qapauma, to gauge what awaits us on this perilous path. Then, collecting my strength and resolve, I gather Mexqutli and Sianchu, ready to announce our next move.
“Warriors,” I begin, my voice carrying across the gathered crowd, “our path leads us south, to Qapauma.”
Grumbling ripples through the ranks, a mix of surprise and discontent. “South?” some of the warriors shout their remarks. “To Qapauma? We thought our fight was for Hilaqta.”
I meet their challenging gaze, looking out among the men and women with my chin held high, understanding the depth of their loyalty to Qantua. Sianchu’s words ring in my ears, reminding me to be the steadfast voice, to inspire confidence through wisdom. “Our duty isn’t only to ourselves, but to all of Pachil. What we encountered here is part of something much larger, something that endangers every faction. If the Eye in the Flame is indeed marching on Qapauma, it’s not just the capital at risk—it’s every faction, every village, every family. We might be the only defense Qapauma has at preventing catastrophe.”
Mexqutli nods in support. "The Eye in the Flame has ambitions that threaten every corner of our continent. We cannot allow them to gain a foothold in Qapauma.”
Dissent ripples through the crowd. Some warriors exchange skeptical looks, while others nod in reluctant agreement. The tension is palpable. Seizing the opportunity, Tiahesi steps forward, his face etched with incredulity. “Why would we abandon our own lands for the Tapeu capital, to help the Arbiter who has threatened to withhold resources from our people?”
“We are warriors,” I say, addressing all who have gathered, not just Tiahesi. “But not just warriors of Qantua, or Tuatiu, or Tapeu, or Ulxa—we are warriors of Pachil. Our duty transcends the boundaries of our lands. Our courage is not limited to battles fought on familiar soil.”
I pause, letting my words sink in before continuing, “Yes, we've faced significant losses, and each fallen warrior did so with honor, defending our people. But to turn back now would be a disservice to their sacrifice. They fought and fell so that we could carry on this fight—to defend not just Qantua, but every region of our land from a threat that seeks to engulf us all.”
Now, I lock eyes with Tiahesi, my tone unwavering, “Uncertainty is the nature of war, but courage lies in facing the unknown. We owe it to those we’ve lost and those we’ve sworn to protect. If a warrior backs down from a fight, they may live, but at what cost? We fight because if we don’t, who will?”
The mutterings of those assembled subside, replaced by a heavy silence. As they consider my words, I leave them with one final thought. “The Eye in the Flame is unlike any foe we’ve encountered—you’ve seen this for yourself. If they are not stopped, the devastation will not end at our borders; it will consume all of Pachil.”
While not entirely convinced nor motivated, most of the warriors seem resigned to this course of action, to what fate may have prepared for them. Tiahesi, along with a few others, look unamused, their scowls visibly holding back their desire to challenge my authority. Perhaps he’s willing to forego his duty to oppose me. However, experience and restraint appear to win out, and Tiahesi backs down from the confrontation, for now.
We march in a southernly direction, traveling another long trek, as the rich, red soil collects on my boots. The mountains stand sentinel in the distance, overlooking the fields of gold that rustle from the soft yet refreshing breeze. The weather in Tuatiu only consists of two seasons: rainy and sunny. To experience the brisk chill of a winter was alarming, at first, yet now it’s oddly comforting since I’ve adapted to these strange lands.
As we make our way toward Qapauma, I notice Mexqutli appearing troubled. He’s been muttering to himself in that harsh Ulxa language I find so jarring. Sianchu has begun ignoring him, not wanting any more confrontation in these tense times. Yet his demeanor is difficult for me to ignore.
“What troubles you?” I ask. It takes me a few attempts before he finally responds, his gaze lingering on the horizon.
Mexqutli hesitates, the conflict within him almost palpable. “It is… the path on which we find ourselves,” he eventually says. “In the pursuit of peace, sometimes we must navigate through the shadows, to confront the darkness where it lies deepest.”
I’m confused by his choice of enigmatic words that seem to carry a deeper meaning, one veiled in ambiguity. “The darkness being the Eye in the Flame, of course?” I probe, hoping to untangle his cryptic message.
He gives a short, humorless laugh, looking away. “Yes, among others. They say to defeat a snake, one must remove the head. But what if the snake has many heads, or if its venom has spread too far?”
A chill runs down my spine, and I quickly realize it’s due to the possible implication of his words. “You speak as if the snake lies not just in the grass, but within our own borders,” I say, watching for any indication of affirmation.
A momentary look of conflict flicker through Mexqutli’s eyes. “The land we cherish may harbor its own poison” he murmurs, almost as if he’s lost in thought. “To cleanse it, one must be willing to reveal the roots of corruption, no matter how deep they burrow.”
There’s something about his demeanor, about his seeming admission, that hints at a deeper truth he’s unwilling to share. I’ve never seen this side of him before, and it’s off-putting to see him in such a daze. However, before I can press him further on this, we’re interrupted by the arrival of our scouts.
“Up ahead,” one of the men informs me, panting heavily between words, “we’ve got something you may find interesting.”
With my curiosity piqued, Mexqutli, Sianchu, and I are met by two of the other scouts who have apprehended someone in an ashen gray robe. With the hood removed, his snarl looks increasingly sinister when paired with a balding head and stubble across his cheeks, emphasizing his gaunt features. Blood coats his stomach and streaks down his legs, and I fear the worst, believing he’s been engaged in another one of their sick, twisted rituals.
Disgusted, I charge up to the man, who gazes back at me with beady, black eyes. “Explain yourself,” I command. “We demand to know where your accomplices fled, those whose hands are stained with the blood of our kin!”
The zealot now smirks a knowing, vulpine grin. His chest heaves as if struggling for breath as he wheezes, “You seek death, girl. The Eye in the Flame will conquer all inferior enemies that dare get the way of claiming what is rightfully–“
“Yes, yes, we’ve heard all this before,” I practically yawn. “Tell us where they are or we will slay you where you stand.”
“You will do me great honor,” he says. “I will be delivered to Eztletiqa and serve by His side, as all who worship the one true god shall.”
“Such people that have left you to rot?” Mexqutli asks, pointing to the blood on the foe’s robes. “You are wounded, and they have deemed you worthless, abandoning you and leaving you for the condors.”
He sneers, “I am chosen and deemed worthy by the only one who may place judgement on me: Eztletiqa, god of the nurturing fire that gives and extinguishes life.”
“Just as there is an entire pantheon of gods who have some importance in the land of Pachil,” Sianchu snarks. “Eztletiqa happens to be the one your cult designated to worship, is all.”
“You may call us a ‘cult’ or whatever insult you choose,” the robed zealot states, “but when all of Pachil is brought to the feet of Eztletiqa and begs Him for His mercy, you will then know the folly of your ways.”
I strike him with a straight cross to his jaw, causing him to involuntarily whimper. I growl through my grinding teeth, “We’ve heard enough of your maniacal mutterings. Tell us where the others have gone, now!”
“As I said before I was rudely interrupted,” he says before a bout of coughing, “the Eye in the Flame is off to reclaim what is rightfully ours. We are marshaling our forces for an assault on Qapauma and Analoixan.”
“Both capitals?” one of the Qantua leaders asks, stunned. The robed man simply smiles in response as the Qantua warriors who surround me stand with mouths agape in shock. I refrain from scolding those that confronted me earlier, instead focusing my energy on this cultist who believes himself to be a martyr.
“We must hurry to the capital!” another Qantua leader shouts urgently. “We must warn the Arbiter!”
“You are too late to save your precious ruler,” the robed man says. “The forces of the Eye in the Flame will descend upon the throne and triumphantly reclaim it. As for you…” The whites of his eyes swirl with an inky black like a night sky as an otherworldly blue glow emanates from his balled-up fists, which crackle and hiss like serpents. The pulsing azure light flickers, sending ripples through the air that hums around him with the surge of a brewing storm. “You shall suffer the same fate as those in the capital!”
I take several leaps backward and shield myself with my arms, bracing for whatever this sorcerer has planned. Mexqutli and Sianchu take similar measures, but the rest of the Qantua who encircle him are not prepared for what comes. A burst of energy explodes from the man’s fists, sending the two scouts who apprehended him, as well as the other unfortunate warriors surrounding him, flying in all directions. I am knocked backwards, landing on my already injured arm that thrums in agony upon impact.
As though unimpeded by his wounds, the sorcerer stands in defiance, more blue radiates from his hands. With a single thrust, several spheres of glowing blue launch from his wrists like arrows toward the warriors, forcing several to desperately hurl themselves out of the way.
Reeling from the initial onslaught, I push through the pain in my arm, scrambling to my feet. The sorcerer’s robe billows like smoke in the wind, his eyes a vortex of unyielding malice. He channels more of his dark, azure energy through his twisted and gnarled fingers. Each flick of his wrist sends another wave of blue spheres crackling through the air, forcing the Qantua warriors to desperately evade the incoming projectiles.
With daggers in his hands, Mexqutli weaves through the chaos and charges toward the sorcerer. His eyes alight with a fiery determination I haven’t witnessed since the assault at Iantana, as his skilled hands maneuver each dagger like a living extension of his will, their obsidian edges catching the sunlight with every precise, fluid movement. He darts and weaves with the agility of a puma, progressing toward the cultist in spite of the fiery attacks hurtling at him.
As he charges the sorcerer, his daggers arc and slice through the air, parrying the incoming attacks while seeking an opening. Each of Mexqutli’s strikes meets a barrier of pulsating azure energy, deflecting his obsidian blades with a force that sends electrifying shivers crackling up his arms. With eyes that burn with a relentless will, the sorcerer summons a protective whirlwind of blue fire around himself, creating a blazing shield that repels Mexqutli’s flurry of attacks. The Iqsuwa rolls and pivots out of the way, narrowly avoiding the searing blasts, his body mere inches from the scorching flames.
Sianchu shouts orders, his voice cutting through the din of battle as he attempts to corral the Qantua into a more strategic formation. Around us, the Qantua warriors rally with bronze swords glimmering in the midday sun. They move into position, creating a formidable wall that narrows the sorcerer’s field of action.
Undeterred, the sorcerer sends a blistering onslaught of blue fire arcing across the field. We dodge and weave, the air thick with the scent of scorched soil as the balls of fire strike the ground. But despite his unrelenting display, the sorcerer’s limits begin to show; his movements, though still lethal, betray a waning endurance. His wounds have begun to catch up to him, as the frenzied attacks start to slow.
Mexqutli swiftly feints to the left, drawing the sorcerer’s attention. He then lunges forward, the muscles in his arms tensing as he unleashes a barrage of rapid stabs and slashes. Mexqutli is unyielding as the sorcerer falters under this relentless assault. He ducks under a wild swing from the sorcerer’s fists engulfed in blue flames, and responds with a swift upward strike that forces the cultist to step back, creating a crucial opportunity.
Seizing the moment, I hurriedly nock an arrow to Sachia’s ornate bow, my focus narrowing to the figure before me. Despite the pain lancing through my injured arm, I draw the groaning bowstring back taut. Mexqutli flanks the sorcerer, whirling his daggers furiously to throw the sorcerer off balance, thus creating the opening I need.
With a breath that tastes of dust, I steel myself for this shot. Long, slow breath in. Long, slow breath out. I release the arrow. It flies, straight and true, piercing the cultist in the left breast. The sorcerer’s cry, a mix of shock and defeat, pierces the air, and he crumples to the ground. As he lays dying, he lifts his head as though to say his final words. However, before they can be uttered, Mexqutli trudges over and, with a swift motion, cleanly slices the sorcerer’s neck. The blue light in his hands dim and die out like the last of a storm.
A hushed silence descends, broken only by the ragged breaths of the weary warriors. Standing among the devastation in a slight daze, I’m gradually brought back to the realization of what danger awaits, for us and for Pachil. Pointing to multiple Qantua warriors, I urgently bark out commands. “You three, hurry to Qapauma with utmost speed. Warn them of the approaching threat! Evade the Eye in the Flame at all costs, and find another way into the city if you run into their forces. Go now!”
The three warriors dash forward, their arms tightly gripping their weapons, legs churning with the fervor of cartwheels on rugged terrain. Surveying the aftermath, we tend to our wounded. A silent prayer of thanks to the Eleven escapes our lips for the lives spared. Yet the ease with which a single adversary wreaked havoc upon us sows seeds of fear and doubt in my heart. The overwhelming might of the Eye in the Flame looms over us like a dark cloud that threatens to engulf our every effort. Questions gnaw at me, relentless and heavy: Are we truly equipped to halt this tide of malevolence? Do we possess even a glimmer of hope against such an overwhelming enemy?
I push such fear and doubt from my mind. There is no hesitation nor uncertainty in a Tuatiu warrior. In me. The faith Haluiqa placed in my leadership and Teqosa’s steadfast belief in our cause fortify my resolve. History has witnessed the people of Pachil surmounting adversity time and again, often against odds deemed insurmountable. The Timuaq’s long reign ended when they were vanquished by the Eleven, may they forever be praised. It reminds us that no obstacle, no matter its magnitude, can withstand the might of unity and resolve. Clinging to this beacon of hope, I steel myself with the conviction that together, we can—and will—turn the tide, no matter the strength of the looming enemy.
As we collect ourselves and prepare to march onward to Qapauma, several warriors are unaccounted for. Sianchu, Mexqutli, and I exchange a long glance, the same unnerving question hanging in the air between us.
“Where is Tiahesi?”
