"You're murdering that poor reed," Xanat observed, her weathered hands working with practiced precision while Tulio's clumsy fingers tangled in another hopeless knot. "Did your mother teach you nothing?"

The weaving circle had gathered in the cool shade of a flowering jacaranda tree, where golden afternoon light dappled through purple blossoms to dance across the courtyard stones. A dozen women sat in comfortable formation, their bronze legs tucked beneath colorful skirts or crossed in easy postures, fingers flying across intricate baskets that seemed to grow organically from their hands.

Tulio, meanwhile, had produced what looked like a drunken armadillo's attempt at architecture.

"Maybe she grew up in the mountains," offered Nenetl kindly, her round face creased with sympathy. "Some villages don't practice the traditional weaving."

"Nonsense," sniffed Elder Izel, whose silver-streaked hair was adorned with jade beads that clicked softly when she shook her head. "Every girl learns. It's as natural as breathing."

Tulio shifted uncomfortably on her cushion, painfully aware of how her borrowed body felt in this feminine circle—the weight of her breasts against the thin fabric of her top, the press of her thick thighs against each other as she attempted to mimic the other women's graceful cross-legged postures. Sweat gathered in the hollow between her collarbones, trickling down between her breasts in a sensation that still startled her.

"I just... haven't practiced in a while," she improvised, yanking at a particularly stubborn reed that seemed determined to stab her under the fingernail.

Elder Izel clicked her tongue. "The Chief will expect better. A woman who cannot weave a sturdy basket cannot weave a sturdy future."

"The Chief isn't... selecting me for my weaving skills," Tulio muttered.

This prompted a chorus of knowing giggles from the younger women.

"No, he's marrying you for those childbearing hips," cackled Yaretzi, a sharp-featured beauty with obsidian eyes. "The royal bloodline flows through sturdy channels, eh?"

"I am NOT marrying—" Tulio began hotly, but was interrupted by Nenetl.

"The offering basket must be perfect," she insisted, reaching over to gently correct Tulio's mangled attempt. "Tonight is the Joining Ritual."

"The... what now?" Tulio's fingers froze mid-weave.

Elder Izel's eyes narrowed. "You've forgotten the Joining Ritual as well? Where have you been hiding all these years, child? Under a stone?"

"She's been... practicing other skills," Yaretzi smirked, prompting another round of giggles.

"Yes, skills that earned her the gods' favor," added Nenetl with a wink. "And the Chief's."

Tulio's eye twitched as she stabbed another reed into her basket. Across the courtyard, she could see Miguel and Chel lounging beneath a golden pergola draped in vivid bougainvillea, accepting grapes from giggling attendants. Chel caught her eye and raised Tulio's stolen hand in a mocking wave.

"The way Chel sits now," Xanat observed, following Tulio's gaze. "Like a man sprawling after battle. The gods have changed her."

"In more ways than you know," Tulio muttered.

"But they chose you as vessel," Elder Izel reminded her, deftly weaving a complex pattern that seemed to shimmer in the late afternoon light. "Tonight, when the Chief takes you in the sacred mating press—"

"The WHAT?" Tulio nearly upended her basket.

"The mating press," repeated Elder Izel impatiently. "When he pins your ankles beside your ears and drives the sacred seed to the very gates of your womb. Surely you remember this position from the temple teachings?"

Tulio stared at her in horror. "That's not... we're not..."

"Oh, the Chief's technique is legendary," Yaretzi sighed dreamily. "My sister said he held her down so firmly she couldn't move properly for three days afterward. His seed was so plentiful it leaked from her for a week."

"I heard he likes to grip the ankles," added a freckled girl whose name Tulio hadn't caught. "Keeps them high and wide while he pounds the divine offering home."

"It's all about the angle," nodded Nenetl knowledgeably. "The deeper the seed is planted, the stronger the child will grow."

Tulio's reed basket had transformed from merely ugly to actively hostile, with sharp spikes jutting at dangerous angles. "Maybe we could talk about... literally anything else?"

"The fertility offerings!" Nenetl clapped her hands. "We must prepare the basket perfectly! Elder Izel, what shall we include?"

The old woman's fingers never stopped their intricate dance as she spoke. "Butterfly orchid for potency. Quetzal feathers for virility. Honey cakes soaked in sacred pulque. Obsidian blade for the blood covenant—"

"Blood covenant?" Tulio squeaked.

"Just a small cut on the palm," Nenetl assured her. "The mixing of your blood with the Chief's seed ensures strong offspring."

"And the pearl dust," added Yaretzi wickedly. "To make his manhood swell to godly proportions."

"As if he needs help in that department," snickered another woman, setting off a fresh wave of laughter.

Tulio looked desperately toward Miguel and Chel again, hoping for rescue. Instead, she saw a group of priest's attendants approaching Altivo, who was contentedly munching flowers from a stone planter.

"The sacred steed must be prepared for tonight's ceremony," one intoned, slipping an ornate bridle over Altivo's head. The horse snorted, tossing his mane in annoyance.

"Ceremony?" Tulio called out, half-rising from her cushion. "What ceremony?"

"The trial, of course," Elder Izel answered. "All virgin brides must face the trial before the Chief claims them."

"I'm not a— WHAT trial?" Tulio's voice cracked with panic.

"Virgin in the spiritual sense," Yaretzi corrected, eyeing Tulio's curvaceous form skeptically.

"But that's—" Tulio's protest was cut short as Elder Izel rapped her knuckles sharply.

"Enough chatter. Finish your offering basket, child. The sun wanes, and tonight's ceremony waits for no one. Not even the gods' chosen vessel."

Across the courtyard, Altivo looked back at Tulio, his intelligent eyes filled with what seemed like concern as the priests led him toward the temple steps. A chill ran down Tulio's spine despite the warm afternoon air.

"Don't worry about your basket," Nenetl whispered kindly. "I'll help you finish it before sunset. We can't have the Chief disappointed on his wedding night, can we?"

"Wedding?" Tulio's voice was barely a squeak now. "This is not a-"

"Of course!" Yaretzi laughed. "Why else would we be preparing the fertility offerings? Tonight, you become the vessel for the future of El Dorado!"

The women resumed their weaving, chattering excitedly about the ceremony to come. Tulio stared down at her mangled basket, a sense of doom settling over her like the evening shadows creeping across the courtyard stones. In the distance, thunder rumbled ominously across the golden city.

"I hate this body," she muttered, jabbing another reed into the increasingly dangerous-looking basket. "And I really, really hate Chel."

Xanat leaned closer, her bone needle flashing through the reeds with effortless precision. "They say the basket foretells the marriage," she observed, eyeing Tulio's spiky creation. "Yours suggests... interesting challenges ahead."

"It suggests I should never have touched a reed in my life," Tulio muttered, yanking her finger back as another splinter lodged under her nail. "Ow! These things are weapons!"

"Here," Nenetl offered, her gentle hands correcting Tulio's grip. "Like this. Firm but flexible. Just like a good wife."

The women dissolved into giggles again. Tulio gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the basket rather than the increasingly explicit marriage advice being offered from all sides.

"When he mounts you," Elder Izel was saying to the rapt circle, "remember to arch your back like the sacred jaguar. It helps receive the seed more deeply."

"And don't forget to squeeze afterward," added Yaretzi with a wink. "Hold his cum inside you as long as possible."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tulio said weakly, feeling her cheeks burn.

"Has your monthly blood come recently?" asked Xanat without looking up from her perfect weaving. "The timing is important for conception."

Tulio nearly dropped her basket. "My... what?"

The women exchanged concerned glances.

"Your moon cycle," Elder Izel clarified impatiently. "Surely you haven't forgotten that too?"

"I've... been irregular," Tulio improvised wildly. "With all the... divine vessel... stuff happening."

"Envy has made us cruel," Nenetl interjected softly, her kind eyes meeting Tulio's. "We forget that Chel has carried burdens we cannot imagine."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the soft rustle of reeds and distant birdsong.

"It's true," sighed Yaretzi, setting aside her basket to stretch luxuriantly. "The gods chose your body from all of ours. Who are we to question divine taste?"

"The fertility of your hips is legendary," agreed Xanat with a hint of reluctant admiration. "Ever since we were girls, the elders said your body was blessed by Ixchel herself. I bet you could give birth to a village without a stretch mark."

"Those breasts alone could feed triplets," Elder Izel nodded sagely. "The perfect vessel for the Chief's legacy."

Tulio glanced down at her borrowed body, seeing it suddenly through their eyes—the generous curves, the fertile roundness, the bronze skin gleaming with health. Chel had been both blessed and cursed by this beauty, it seemed.

"I never asked for this body," she found herself saying truthfully.

"And modest too," cooed Nenetl, completely misunderstanding. "No wonder the gods favor you."

A shadow fell across their circle. Tulio looked up to see Tzekel-Kan standing over them, his angular face set in its perpetual expression of disdainful superiority. The high priest's jade and obsidian ornaments caught the late afternoon light, sending green-black reflections dancing across the stones.

"The chosen of the gods are summoned," he announced, his voice carrying that unsettling combination of silken politeness and underlying menace. "The ceremony of Xibalba awaits."

The weaving circle fell silent, women lowering their eyes respectfully as the priest's gaze swept over them.

"The underworld journey?" Elder Izel asked, obvious concern in her voice. "Tonight, before the Joining? But the vessel must be purified for—"

"The gods have spoken," Tzekel-Kan cut her off smoothly. "Their divine presence honors us with a most sacred visitation to the realm below. Who are we to question their divine will?"

His eyes fixed on Tulio, gleaming with something that looked disturbingly like anticipation. "The vessel will accompany them, naturally. To... attend to their needs."

Tulio's stomach clenched. Something about the way he said it, the barely concealed eagerness in his voice, set alarm bells ringing.

"But her basket isn't finished," Nenetl protested, holding up Tulio's mangled creation. "The offering isn't ready!"

"The gods require no crude offerings of reed and clay," Tzekel-Kan dismissed with a wave of his bony hand. "They command a journey to Xibalba. Now."

Across the courtyard, Tulio could see that Miguel and Chel had already been corralled by a group of attendant priests. Miguel was attempting to stuff several golden trinkets into his robes while Chel was arguing with an acolyte who had apparently interrupted something enjoyable.

"I was just getting to the good part of my divine..." she was saying, gesturing expansively with Tulio's gangly arms.

"Now, Chel," Tzekel-Kan's voice carried a subtle threat beneath the silky surface. "We wouldn't want to keep the gods waiting, would we?"

Tulio reluctantly set down her disaster of a basket and rose, feeling the eyes of the weaving circle on her as she smoothed down her clothing. Nenetl caught her hand briefly.

"Be careful," the kind woman whispered. "The underworld journey is not to be taken lightly, even with divine protection."

"Oh great," Tulio muttered under her breath. "That's comforting."

As she crossed the courtyard to join Miguel and Chel, Elder Izel called after her: "Remember what I told you about the sacred jaguar pose! For afterward!"

Tulio felt her face flame as Tzekel-Kan's eyebrow rose imperceptibly. The priest said nothing, but something in his expression made her skin crawl.

"What's this about an underworld journey?" she hissed as she reached Miguel and Chel. "And where did they take Altivo?"

"Apparently we're going on a field trip to Xibalba," Miguel whispered back, still trying to cram a small golden statuette into his robe. "Very prestigious, very divine, totally normal god stuff."

"Which would be fine," Chel added sourly, "if I hadn't been right in the middle of a very promising divine blessing with those lovely attendants. Did you know your body can—"

"I don't want to know," Tulio cut her off sharply.

Tzekel-Kan glided up beside them, his movements unnervingly smooth. "The preparations are complete. If the gods will follow me?"

The priest led them away from the sunny courtyard, through a series of increasingly shadowy corridors. The air grew cooler, heavy with the scent of copal incense and something else—something mineral and ancient. The walls were carved with elaborate scenes of figures descending into monstrous jaws, facing trials of fire and water, encountering demonic creatures with bat wings and jaguar claws.

"Cheery decor," Miguel whispered, edging closer to Tulio as they descended a particularly dark staircase. "Really brightens the place up."

"The iconography of Xibalba is not meant to comfort, but to warn," Tzekel-Kan called back without turning. "The underworld tests all who enter its domain."

"Tests?" Tulio squeaked. "What kind of tests?"

"Nothing that true gods would fear," the priest replied, his voice echoing strangely in the narrow passage. "Merely challenges to prove one's... divine nature."

"Of course," Miguel laughed nervously. "Divine tests for divine beings. Just our regular Tuesday, right partner?"

"Right," agreed Chel, though her expression had grown serious. She leaned closer to Tulio and Miguel. "Something's off here. Xibalba journeys are ceremonial—symbolic descents guided by priests. But this..." she gestured at the increasingly elaborate carvings surrounding them, "this looks like he's taking us to the real thing."

"There's a real Xibalba?" Miguel's voice cracked slightly. "With real underworld demons and jaguar monsters and all those delightful things carved on the walls?"

"Not exactly," Chel whispered back. "But every major temple has a sacred labyrinth beneath it—a physical representation of the underworld, used for initiation rites. Or sometimes..."

"Sometimes what?" Tulio prompted when Chel fell silent.

"Sometimes for disposing of troublesome visitors," Chel finished grimly.

They had reached an elaborate doorway carved with writhing serpents and leering bat-creatures. Tzekel-Kan turned to face them, his eyes glittering in the torchlight like polished obsidian.

"Beyond this threshold lies the realm of Xibalba," he intoned, his voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of ritual. "Lords of death and decay, where souls are tested and judged. Only those of true divine nature may enter and return."

He fixed them with that unsettling stare. "The gods, of course, will find it a mere curiosity. A pleasant diversion. Unless..." his lip curled slightly, "they have something to hide."

"Hide? Us?" Miguel laughed too loudly. "What would gods have to hide? We're completely open books! Divine, transparent, nothing-to-fear-from-underworld-journeys... books."

"Indeed," Tzekel-Kan's smile never reached his eyes. "Then you will have no objection to leaving your... mortal treasures behind." He gestured to the acolytes, who stepped forward expectantly.

"Treasures?" Miguel clutched his robe protectively.

"Gold and jewels are mere trinkets to true gods," the priest said smoothly. "Distractions in the sacred journey. You will, of course, want to enter Xibalba... unencumbered."

"Right! Absolutely!" Miguel reluctantly began emptying his pockets, producing an astonishing quantity of small golden objects. "Just some souvenirs. Tiny mementos. Practically weightless."

The acolytes collected the confiscated treasures while Tzekel-Kan watched with barely concealed contempt. When they had finished, he gestured toward a large ceremonial goblet being carried forward by another priest.

"The sacred drink," he announced, "to prepare your spirits for the journey."

"Is that really necessary?" Tulio asked nervously, eyeing the smoking liquid.

"It is tradition," Tzekel-Kan insisted. "Even for gods."

Miguel sniffed the goblet suspiciously. "Smells like that time behind the tavern in Seville."

"Bottoms up," Chel said with a shrug, taking the goblet and downing a healthy swallow before passing it to Miguel. He hesitated, then did the same.

When it came to Tulio, she raised the cup to her lips but didn't drink, watching Tzekel-Kan over the rim. The priest's eyes were fixed on them with an intensity that confirmed her suspicions. Whatever was in this cup, it wasn't just ceremonial wine.

She lowered the goblet, pretending to have drunk. "Delicious," she lied. "Very... underworld-y."

Tzekel-Kan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing, instead turning to the massive doors. He raised his arms dramatically, his voice rising to fill the chamber.

"We call upon the Lords of Xibalba to open the way! We bring offerings of flesh and spirit, to be tested in the sacred darkness!"

The doors swung inward with a grinding sound, revealing a pitch-black void beyond. Cold air rushed out, carrying that strange mineral scent, now stronger and mixed with something else—something that smelled disturbingly like decay.

"The gods will lead the way," Tzekel-Kan gestured toward the darkness, his smile too wide, too eager. "As is their divine right."

Miguel swayed slightly, blinking rapidly. Beside him, Chel's movements had become oddly sluggish, her eyelids drooping. Whatever had been in that goblet was taking effect.

"After you," Tulio said to Tzekel-Kan, playing for time. "You know the way better than we do."

"The high priest merely facilitates," he replied smoothly. "Only the divine may cross this threshold first. Unless..." his voice dropped to a silky challenge, "you fear what awaits within?"

Miguel stumbled forward, his movements becoming increasingly uncoordinated. "Nothing to fear!" he declared, his words slightly slurred. "Divine beings, remember? Let's go... visit the... skull people!"

Before Tulio could stop him, Miguel stepped through the doorway and vanished into the darkness. Chel followed, her movements mechanical, as though her borrowed body was operating without her full control.

"Your turn, vessel," Tzekel-Kan's voice hardened.

Trapped between the priest's suspicion and the unknown dangers beyond, Tulio took a deep breath and stepped forward. The darkness swallowed her like a living thing, cold and absolute. She heard the heavy doors grinding shut behind her, cutting off the torchlight from the corridor.

For a moment, there was nothing—no light, no sound, just the pounding of her heart and the cold stone beneath her feet. Then a distant grinding noise reached her ears, growing louder with alarming speed.

The floor beneath her shifted, then disappeared entirely.

Tulio screamed as she plummeted into darkness, Tzekel-Kan's mocking laughter echoing above her.

The floor beneath them shuddered. Tulio reached for Miguel, but it was too late—a section of the floor dropped away, plunging them into darkness.

The fall felt endless. Tulio tumbled through darkness, arms flailing, her borrowed body twisting as she plummeted down what felt like the throat of some massive beast. Miguel's panicked shout and Chel's string of curses echoed alongside her own scream.

Just as panic threatened to overwhelm her, the shaft widened into a steep, spiraling stone slide. They crashed onto the polished surface, momentum carrying them down in a chaotic tangle of limbs. Tulio's bare skin squealed against the stone as they whirled downward, the slide banking sharply around corners, plunging ever deeper.

"Is this—" Miguel yelled between bounces, "—supposed to be—" another jolt sent him spinning, "—HAPPENING?"

"It's a ceremonial descent!" Chel shouted back, somehow managing to sound annoyed despite careening headfirst down an ancient stone chute. "Usually they lower you down on ROPES!"

The slide gave one final twist and then abruptly ended, depositing them onto cold stone with bone-jarring impact. For a moment, they lay in a heap of limbs and groans. Tulio pushed herself up on scraped palms, wincing as her bare knees throbbed against the rough ground.

"Well," Miguel's voice came from somewhere to her left, oddly cheerful despite everything, "that was unexpected."

"Speak for yourself," Chel muttered, untangling Tulio's gangly limbs from beneath Miguel. "Nothing says 'welcome to Xibalba' like a ceremonial ass-sanding."

Green flames suddenly bloomed along the walls, casting their surroundings in a sickly emerald glow. Tulio's breath caught in her throat as she took in their prison—a vast underground chamber carved from obsidian rock, its walls etched with leering faces and hieroglyphs that seemed to writhe in the flickering light.

A low chuckle echoed through the chamber, seeming to come from the very walls themselves. Tzekel-Kan's voice slithered around them like a serpent.

"The gods journey to the underworld and return," he intoned. "If they are truly gods."

Miguel scrambled to his feet, attempting to look dignified despite the dust covering his once-pristine clothes. "Of course we're gods! And this little... underground vacation is nothing to us! Right, partner?"

Chel nodded, though Tulio noted the tension in her stance. "Absolutely. A pleasant stroll through Xibalba."

The priest's laughter deepened, reverberating through the stone. "Then by all means... stroll."

The chamber shuddered. Stone ground against stone as the far wall split apart, revealing a dark corridor lined with those eerie green flames. From somewhere deep within came a sound that turned Tulio's blood to ice—the panicked whinnying of a horse.

"Altivo," she breathed.

"This way," Chel said grimly, starting toward the passage. "And stay close. Tzekel-Kan's twisted these tunnels into something nasty."

"Twisted how?" Tulio asked, hurrying to keep up, her bare feet wincing against the cold stone.

"These trials are supposed to test your courage, your wisdom," Chel explained, her voice low. "But our skull-loving friend has modified them to test whether you can survive being brutally murdered."

"Oh good," Miguel chimed in brightly. "For a moment I was worried."

The passage narrowed, forcing them to walk single file. The green flames cast grotesque shadows that danced across carved walls—jaguars devouring hearts, serpents swallowing men whole, bat-like creatures with human faces. The air grew colder, heavy with the smell of damp stone and something else... something metallic and ancient.

Tulio shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. Without her usual height and strength, the tunnel felt oppressively small, the darkness hungry. Her breasts jiggled uncomfortably with each step, a constant reminder of her vulnerability. The weight of stone above pressed down, making it hard to breathe.

"What's that sound?" Miguel whispered as a faint clicking echoed ahead.

"Nothing good," Chel replied grimly.

They rounded a corner and stopped dead. Before them stretched a long, narrow hall with walls lined in polished obsidian panels. The reflective surfaces threw back distorted images of themselves—stretched, twisted, nightmarish.

"The Hall of Mirrors," Chel murmured. "Where Xibalba shows you your true face."

Tulio peered at her reflection and recoiled. In the obsidian, her—Chel's—face was stretched into a skeletal grimace, eyes burning with an unnatural fire, mouth filled with jaguar fangs.

"That's... that's not..."

"It's what the gods see," Chel explained, studying her own distorted image with narrowed eyes. "Or what Tzekel-Kan wants us to see. The mirrors are normally just for scaring initiates, but..." She bent to examine the uneven floor, dotted with small, jagged protrusions like teeth. "These shouldn't be here. He's rigged it."

"Rigged it how?" Miguel asked, poking experimentally at his reflection, which showed him covered in what looked uncomfortably like blood.

"Those spikes are trigger points. Step on them wrong and—"

A scuttling noise interrupted her. From the shadows at the far end of the hall, something moved—many somethings, small and quick, with too many legs.

"—and the camazotz wake up," Chel finished grimly.

"The cama-what?" Tulio hissed, backing up a step.

"Death bats. Soul eaters. Bad news."

The scuttling grew louder. In the mirrors, shadowy shapes with leathery wings and needle-like teeth crawled closer.

"What do we do?" Miguel whispered, eyes wide.

Chel scanned the floor, then pointed to faint symbols carved among the spikes. "Step only where you see the maize glyphs. Symbols of life, not death. And whatever you do, don't touch the mirrors."

"Right. No touching the soul-eating bat mirrors. Got it." Tulio took a deep breath and followed Chel, placing her bare feet carefully on the small maize carvings. Her shorter legs made the steps awkward, forcing her to stretch uncomfortably between safe spots.

They were halfway through when Miguel's foot slipped, landing squarely on a spike shaped like a tiny skull.

A mirror shattered outward, spraying obsidian shards. From the broken frame, shadows erupted—bat-like forms with human faces, their wings slicing the air with a sound like tearing silk. They swarmed toward Miguel, who yelped and ducked.

"Don't let them touch you!" Chel shouted, yanking him down.

Tulio dropped to her hands and knees, using her smaller frame to crawl beneath the swarm. The bats circled overhead, their shrieks piercing her ears. One dove at her, claws extended. She rolled aside, but her movement sent her hip bumping against a mirror.

It cracked with a sound like breaking ice. More shadows poured forth, these with glowing red eyes and grasping hands.

"Crawl!" Chel ordered, dropping to her belly.

Tulio scrambled forward, her palms scraped raw on the stone, her ass wobbling precariously as she slithered between the spikes. A bat swooped at her hair, claws tangling in the long strands. She yelped, twisting to break free, and nearly rolled into another mirror.

"Stop moving like you have your old body!" Chel hissed. "You're smaller now—use it!"

Tulio gritted her teeth and flattened herself to the ground, using her flexibility to slither beneath a particularly low swarm. Her breasts dragged painfully against the stone, but she wriggled forward, squeezing through a gap that neither Miguel nor her old body could have managed.

The bats followed, their shrieks growing more frenzied. One latched onto Miguel's shirt, its teeth sinking into the fabric. He yelped, slapping at it, and stumbled against a mirror. The glass rippled like water, and a clawed hand emerged, grasping for his throat.

"The exit!" Chel shouted, pointing to a narrow doorway ahead. "Run!"

They scrambled forward, the bats swarming thicker now. Tulio reached the door first, her smaller size an advantage, and squeezed through. Chel shoved Miguel after her, then dove through herself just as the largest mirror shattered completely, releasing a tidal wave of shadows.

The door slammed shut behind them, cutting off the bats' shrieks. For a moment, they lay panting in the new chamber, hearts hammering.

"Well," Miguel wheezed, plucking glass shards from his sleeve, "that was interesting."

"That was the easy part," Chel replied grimly, pushing herself up.

Tulio looked around and immediately wished she hadn't. They stood at the edge of a circular chamber with a raised stone platform in the center, surrounded by a deep trench. The walls were carved with massive serpents, their stone eyes glinting with red gems. The air was thick with a sour, venomous stench.

"What is this place?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The Coils of Kukulkan," Chel answered. "Another test. The priest has twisted it, though." She pointed to fresh carvings on the walls, symbols that seemed to writhe in the dim light. "Those are blood glyphs. He's woken something."

As if in response, a low hissing filled the chamber. The red gems in the serpents' eyes began to glow brighter.

"Across the platform," Chel instructed, stepping cautiously onto the stone circle. "Don't look down, don't touch anything, and for the love of gold, don't pull any levers you see. They're probably traps."

They edged onto the platform. Tulio's bare feet slipped on the smooth stone, still aching from the Hall of Mirrors. The platform was barely ten feet across, with the trench surrounding it too wide to jump.

They were halfway across when the stones beneath them shuddered. A grinding noise echoed through the chamber, and the platform began to tilt, slowly at first, then faster.

"It's not supposed to do that!" Chel shouted, grabbing for purchase on the slipping stone.

Tulio scrambled for a handhold as her feet slid toward the edge. She seized a carved protrusion, dangling precariously as the platform tilted further. Below, the trench began to fill with a hissing, bubbling liquid that smelled of decay.

"That's not water!" Miguel yelped, clinging to a carving on the opposite side.

"It's venom," Chel confirmed. "From the mouth of Kukulkan."

The liquid rose, steaming and foul. A drop splashed onto the stone near Tulio's hand, eating into the rock with a sizzle.

"There has to be a way out," she gasped, her arms straining to hold her weight. "Chel, what do we do?"

Before Chel could answer, a new sound filled the chamber—the grating of stone against stone. The serpent carvings on the walls were moving, their massive stone bodies detaching from the surface, slithering across the tilting platform with grinding scales.

"That's definitely not supposed to happen!" Chel shouted.

A stone serpent lashed at Miguel, who leaped back, tumbling into Chel. They sprawled on the slick stone, sliding toward the bubbling venom.

Tulio, still dangling from her handhold, saw the serpents converging on her friends. On the far wall, something caught her eye—a lever, jutting from a carving of a jaguar's mouth.

"The lever!" she called. "We need to pull it!"

"No!" Chel yelled back, scrambling away from a serpent's strike. "It's a trap! If we pull it, the room floods!"

"Then what do we do?" Miguel demanded, dodging another stone snake.

Chel pointed to the red gems glowing in the serpents' eyes. "Hit those! They're the control points!"

Tulio glanced around desperately. Her perch was giving way, the stone crumbling beneath her fingers. The platform was nearly vertical now, the venom rising steadily.

A snake lunged at her, its stone jaws wide. She let go of her handhold, dropping to a narrower ledge. The movement sent her sliding, her new curves threatening to overbalance her.

"You're flexible now, remember?!" Chel shouted.

Tulio twisted, wedging herself between two tilting slabs. Her breasts pressed tight against one surface as she shimmied across, using her smaller frame to navigate the gap. A serpent followed, its stone body scraping against the walls.

On the other side of the chamber, Miguel had found a loose chunk of stone. He hefted it, eyeing the nearest serpent.

"The eye!" Chel urged. "Hit the eye!"

He hurled the stone. It struck the gem with a sharp crack. The serpent froze mid-strike, its stone body rigid.

"It worked!" He grabbed another stone, taking aim at a second serpent.

Tulio wriggled through a narrow gap, her ass barely squeezing through where her old body would never have fit. A drop of venom splashed onto her foot, burning like fire. She bit back a scream, tears springing to her eyes.

Miguel and Chel managed to hit two more gems, freezing the serpents in place. The platform's tilt slowed but didn't stop. The venom continued to rise.

"There's one more!" Chel called, pointing to a serpent high on the wall, its red eye gleaming malevolently.

Tulio looked up at it, then at the precarious handholds leading upward. In her old body, she could have scaled that easily. Now, with her smaller frame and less upper body strength...

But she had something else now. Flexibility. Balance.

She began to climb, using tiny finger-holds in the stone. Her bare toes found purchase where boots would have slipped. She stretched, reaching for handholds that her old arms couldn't have managed, her new body bending in ways that still surprised her.

The serpent above her began to move, its stone jaws opening wide. Venom dripped from its fangs, sizzling on the rock.

"Hurry!" Miguel shouted.

Tulio reached the ledge beneath the serpent, but the gem was still too high. She'd need to jump, with nothing but bubbling venom below if she missed.

She coiled herself, feeling the power in her new-ish legs, and leaped. Her hand closed around the gem just as the serpent struck. She felt its stone fangs graze her hair as she wrenched the gem free.

The effect was immediate. The serpent froze, its jaws inches from her face. The platform juddered to a halt, and the venom began to recede, draining back into hidden channels.

Tulio slid down the wall, landing in an ungraceful heap on the now-level platform. Her foot throbbed where the venom had touched it, leaving an angry red welt.

"That," Miguel panted, helping her up, "was way too close."

"It's not over," Chel warned, pointing to a new opening that had appeared in the wall. "There's more."

Tzekel-Kan's laugh echoed around them, sharp and gleeful. "The gods seem... diminished in the bowels of Xibalba. Perhaps they are not gods at all!"

They staggered through the new doorway, emerging into a wide, low-ceilinged tunnel. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of human skulls, their eye sockets glowing with a faint red light. The floor vibrated subtly beneath their feet, and a rhythmic grinding sound grew louder as they advanced.

"I don't like this," Tulio murmured, her burned foot leaving small, painful tracks of blood on the stone.

"You shouldn't," Chel replied grimly. "This is the Mouth of Xibalba. Where souls are ground to dust."

As if on cue, the grinding sound intensified. The floor beneath them shuddered, then began to split apart, revealing a horrifying sight—a pit filled with spinning blades, gnashing and churning like teeth. Among the blades, broken bones and fragments of skulls tumbled and shattered.

"Run!" Miguel shouted, grabbing Tulio's arm.

They bolted forward as the floor continued to disintegrate behind them. The walls began to close in, skulls tumbling loose to shatter on the blades below.

"There's no way out!" Tulio cried, looking ahead to where the tunnel narrowed to nothing.

"There has to be!" Chel insisted, dodging a falling skull. "These trials always have a solution!"

The floor tilted beneath Tulio's feet, and she slid toward the pit of blades. Her bare feet slipped on the smooth stone. In desperation, she hooked her toes into the eye socket of a fallen skull, hanging precariously over the grinding death below.

The skull whispered in an ancient tongue, its jaw chattering with each word. Tulio shrieked, kicking it away, and nearly lost her balance.

Miguel and Chel had leaped to a narrow ledge along the wall, but it crumbled under their weight. Chel grabbed a jutting bone—a femur embedded in the wall—holding Miguel's wrist as they dangled above the blades.

"There!" Chel shouted over the grinding, pointing with her free hand to a narrow crack in the converging walls. "Tulio! The gap!"

Tulio looked where she pointed and saw a sliver of space, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through. It was their only chance.

She pushed off from her precarious perch, leaping toward the walls. Her smaller body slipped into the crack just as the blades rose higher, nearly catching her foot. She wriggled forward, the space narrowing with each inch. Her breasts scraped painfully against the rough stone as she squeezed deeper into the gap.

Behind her, Miguel and Chel were clambering along the wall, trying to reach the same crack. The blades were rising faster now, the grinding deafening.

"Hurry!" Tulio called back, pushing herself further into the gap.

She emerged on the other side, finding herself in a small, domed chamber. A stone slab door stood opposite her, heavy but not impossible to move. She threw her weight against it, pushing with legs that still felt too short, too weak.

The door groaned open, revealing another corridor beyond. She turned back to the crack, reaching for Miguel and Chel.

"Come on!" she shouted. "I've found the way out!"

She saw them approaching, Miguel in the lead, his hand stretching toward hers.

Then the walls slammed together with a sound like thunder.

The crack vanished, leaving only solid stone. Tulio screamed, pounding on the wall.

"Miguel! Chel!"

From the other side came muffled shouts, then a grinding noise, then silence.

Tulio stood frozen, her heart hammering. Had they fallen? Were they crushed? She had no way to know.

A new sound broke the silence—slow, mocking applause. Tzekel-Kan's voice echoed through the chamber.

"Well done. You've reached the final trial." His laughter reverberated, cruel and satisfied.

The stone slab door behind her slammed shut, cutting off her escape. The chamber she stood in was small, dome-shaped, with a blood-stained altar at its center. The walls were carved with images of jaguar claws raking through human flesh. Green torchlight from braziers cast everything in a sickly glow.

A shuffling sound from the shadows made her whirl around. Something large moved in the darkness, its breath heavy and wet.

"Who's there?" Tulio called, her voice small in the vast chamber.

Torchlight glinted off something metallic—a bridle. Then came the familiar sound of hooves on stone. Relief flooded through her.

"Altivo! Thank god—"

The horse emerged into the sickly green light, and Tulio's relief curdled into dread. This wasn't the Altivo she knew. His eyes glowed with an unnatural emerald fire, his nostrils flared wide, and his usually groomed mane hung wild and tangled. Around his neck was a collar of obsidian and jade, carved with the same writhing symbols she'd seen throughout the temple.

"Nice horse," she said cautiously, taking a step back. "Good... possessed demon horse?"

Altivo snorted, pawing at the ground with one massive hoof. The sound echoed through the chamber like a warning drum.

"Listen, buddy, I know you're in there somewhere," Tulio tried, her voice shaking slightly. "It's me, Tulio. Well, not exactly me-me, but you know what I mean..."

The possessed horse advanced, its muscular body moving with predatory grace. Tulio backed away until her shoulders hit cold stone. She was cornered.

Tzekel-Kan's voice slithered through the chamber again, thick with malicious delight.

"The sacred vessel meets the sacred beast! How fitting that your divine charade should end this way."

"What have you done to him?" Tulio demanded, pressing herself against the wall as Altivo closed in.

"Merely awakened his true nature," the priest answered, his disembodied voice dripping with cruel satisfaction. "The spirit of Xibalba loves nothing more than to corrupt purity. And what could be more pure than the Chief's chosen vessel?"

Altivo's breathing grew heavier, his nostrils flaring wider with each exhale. His head lowered, eyes fixed on Tulio with a terrifying intelligence. This wasn't just animal instinct—there was something calculating in that gaze, something that understood exactly what it was doing.

"The Chief will be most displeased," Tzekel-Kan continued, "to find his precious vessel defiled by beast-kind. Though I imagine there won't be much left to defile once the creature is finished with you."

Altivo's ears flattened against his head as he edged closer. He was herding her, Tulio realized with growing horror. Each time she tried to slide along the wall, he blocked her path with his massive body.

"Altivo, snap out of it," she pleaded, her heart hammering against her ribs. "It's not you, it's whatever freaky magic this skull-fetishist used on you!"

The horse snorted, hot breath washing over her face. He was close now, too close, his powerful chest nearly touching her. Tulio glanced desperately around the chamber, looking for an escape route, a weapon, anything.

Then she felt it.

Something hot and heavy bumped against her thigh.

Tulio looked down and felt her stomach drop through the floor.

"Oh. Oh no. No no no no."

Between Altivo's hind legs, something massive was emerging from its sheath. Something pink and glistening and utterly, horrifyingly enormous.

"That's... that's not..." Tulio's voice failed her as she watched Altivo's equine anatomy make its grotesque debut, dropping lower and lower until it nearly touched the stone floor, swinging pendulously with each shift of the beast's weight.

Tzekel-Kan's laughter echoed through the chamber, sharp and cruel. "Even the beasts know false gods when they see them! How fitting that you should meet your end split upon nature's most unforgiving altar."

Tulio pressed herself harder against the wall, terror freezing her in place as Altivo's monstrous appendage continued to extend. It was like watching a horror show in slow motion—vein-ridded and alarmingly tapered, it finally stopped at a length that seemed physically impossible. Below it hung twin orbs, heavy and full, swinging slightly with each of Altivo's increasingly aggressive movements.

The possessed horse nickered, a sound that sent chills down Tulio's spine. It wasn't the friendly noise she was used to—this was the call of a predator, low and hungry.

"Nice horsie," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Good horsie. You don't want to do this. You really, REALLY don't want to do this."

Altivo's answer was to rear up slightly, front hooves pawing the air. When he came down, one hoof landed on either side of Tulio's feet, effectively trapping her against the wall. His massive chest pressed against her, the heat of his body searing through the thin fabric of her top.

"ALTIVO!" she shouted, panic finally breaking through her frozen state. "IT'S ME!"

For a second, something flickered in those glowing eyes—recognition, perhaps? But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same unnatural fire.

"The beast hungers," Tzekel-Kan's voice slithered around her. "Perhaps you should have paid more attention to the carvings, false goddess. They tell of many who entered Xibalba and met fates far worse than simple death."

Tulio felt a hot, heavy weight land on her shoulder. Altivo's impossible anatomy was pressing against her, the heat of it burning through her clothing like a brand. The smell hit her next—musky and animal, thick enough to taste.

"Oh gods," she whimpered, turning her face away. "Please, no."

The horse's massive head lowered, his hot breath washing over her neck. She felt teeth graze her skin—not biting, not yet, but a clear threat. At the same time, that enormous intrusion pressed harder against her, sliding over her shoulder, leaving a trail of slick wetness in its wake.

"How the mighty fall," Tzekel-Kan crowed. "The 'gods' reduced to breeding stock for beasts! The Chief's sacred vessel about to be ruined by the most degrading death imaginable."

Tulio's mind raced, desperately searching for a way out. She couldn't overpower Altivo, couldn't outrun him. But maybe... maybe she could redirect him?

An idea formed—terrible, humiliating, but possibly her only chance.

With shaking hands, she reached up and placed her palms against Altivo's sweaty chest, pushing with all her might. The horse grunted, surprised by the sudden resistance, and shifted backward just enough for Tulio to duck under his massive neck.

She scrambled away on all fours, making it a few feet before Altivo's teeth caught the back of her loincloth. With a violent jerk of his head, he tore the fabric, sending Tulio sprawling face-first onto a worn stone altar in the center of the chamber.

The impact knocked the wind from her lungs. Before she could recover, Altivo was behind her, his front hooves planted on either side of the altar, effectively pinning her. His massive weight bore down on her lower back, forcing her chest against the cold stone.

"Perhaps I'll hang what's left of you from the temple walls," Tzekel-Kan mused. "A warning to other pretenders."

Tulio felt that terrible heat again, this time sliding wetly against her lower back, leaving trails of sticky fluid that oozed between the dimples above her bottom. The overwhelming smell filled her nostrils—earthy and animal, with an acrid undertone that made her eyes water.

"Altivo," she gasped, fighting for breath under his weight. "Please... it's me..."

The horse snorted, his breaths coming harder and faster. Tulio could feel the massive thing pulsing against her back, each throb sending fresh terror through her veins. It slid lower, settling between the rounded globes of her borrowed anatomy, the slick head probing blindly.

She had seconds, if that. With desperate strength born of pure survival instinct, Tulio twisted violently to one side, throwing her hips out from under the beast's terrible aim.

The sudden movement unbalanced Altivo, making him rear up slightly. Tulio used the moment to flip onto her back, now facing the possessed horse's underbelly. The new position granted her no relief—if anything, it was worse. Now she could see the full, horrifying extent of her predicament.

Altivo's equine manhood hung ominously above her, an obscene pendulum of flesh. It was flushed an angry red, veins bulging along its considerable length, the flared head dripping thick, viscous fluid onto her heaving chest. The smell was overwhelming this close—musky and salty, with a sharp ammonia edge that burned her nostrils.

"Such a pathetic sight," Tzekel-Kan's voice dripped with satisfaction. "The chosen of the mighty gods, about to be split open like a ripe fruit. I wonder if your 'divine' friend would recognize what's left afterward?"

Tulio's mind raced. She had to do something, anything, but her options were severely limited. Altivo shifted his weight, the movement causing his engorged flesh to swing precariously close to her face. A droplet of fluid landed on her cheek, hot and sticky.

"Altivo," she tried again, her voice cracking. "This isn't you. You know me."

The horse's only response was a guttural whicker, his hips making a small, experimental thrust that sent his appendage sliding wetly across her décolletage, leaving a glistening trail in its wake.

Desperation gave birth to a terrible idea. If she couldn't fight or flee... maybe she could appease?

"I can't believe I'm about to do this," she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut briefly.

With trembling hands, she reached up and grasped the hot, pulsing flesh. It was like holding a living thing separate from the horse—it jumped in her grip, the skin sliding over the rigid core beneath in a way that made her stomach turn. The heat was incredible, the texture alien—smooth yet veined, slick with fluid that coated her palms.

Altivo froze, clearly surprised by this new development. His glowing eyes fixed on her face, something like confusion breaking through the possession.

"That's right," Tulio said, her voice steadier than she felt. "This is... this is what you want, right? Not... not the other thing."

She moved her hands experimentally, sliding them along the impossible length. The flesh twitched violently in her grasp, more fluid leaking from the flared tip.

"You are full of surprises, little dancer," Tzekel-Kan's voice held a new note—uncertainty. This wasn't part of his plan. "But do you truly think to placate a beast of Xibalba with such... measures?"

"I think," Tulio grunted, continuing her awkward ministrations, "that you can shut your skull-loving mouth and let me handle this."

Altivo's breath came faster now, hot puffs washing over Tulio's face as she worked. Her arms ached with the effort of handling something so disproportionate to her borrowed body's size, but fear gave her strength. Each movement of her hands seemed to further confuse the possessed horse, breaking whatever single-minded drive had gripped him.

"Come on, buddy," she muttered, gritting her teeth against the growing slickness, the overwhelming smell, the whole horrifying situation. "Remember me? The one who said 'you can take the gold' and then you decided to jump a thousand feet into the ocean with us? Good times, right?"

Altivo nickered, the sound less aggressive than before. His massive head lowered until he was eye-to-eye with Tulio, those glowing orbs studying her with an intensity that was unsettling.

"Impossible," Tzekel-Kan hissed. "The beast cannot be swayed! The power of Xibalba—"

"Isn't as strong as friendship," Tulio cut him off, locking eyes with the horse. "Or whatever the hell we have. Partnership? Mutual Stockholm syndrome? I don't know, but it's stronger than your creepy jaguar mojo."

The possessed horse's ears flicked forward, focusing on her voice. Recognition seemed to flicker again in those glowing depths.

"That's it," Tulio encouraged, her hands still moving mechanically. "Remember us? Miguel? Chel? Even when she's being an absolute—" She bit off the insult, focusing. "We're a team, Altivo. Don't let this skull-fondling creep turn you into something you're not."

The green fire in Altivo's eyes dimmed slightly. He shook his massive head as if trying to clear it, sending his wild mane flying.

Tzekel-Kan's voice rose in anger. "No! The beast serves Xibalba now! Your flesh will feed his hunger!"

"You know what? I'm really starting to dislike that guy," Tulio muttered to Altivo, her hands maintaining their embarrassing task despite the growing fatigue in her arms. "What do you say we get out of here and show him what happens when you mess with us?"

Altivo snorted, shaking his head more vigorously. The obsidian collar around his neck rattled, its symbols seeming to writhe with an inner light.

"The collar," Tulio realized suddenly. "That's it, isn't it? That's what's controlling you."

The horse whinnied in what sounded like agreement, though the sound was strained. He lowered his head further, practically laying his neck across Tulio's chest—offering her access to the artifact.

"Good boy," Tulio breathed, relief making her dizzy. "Hold on, I'll get it off."

One hand reluctantly abandoned its task to reach for the collar, fingers scrabbling at the smooth stone. There was no clasp, no obvious way to remove it.

"Dammit," she hissed, frustration mounting. "How do I—"

Altivo suddenly reared back, nearly crushing Tulio against the altar. His eyes flared bright green again, the possession reasserting itself.

"You cannot break the spell!" Tzekel-Kan crowed triumphantly. "The beast returns to his true nature!"

Tulio watched in horror as Altivo's massive form loomed over her once more, that terrible heat pressing against her stomach as his hooves trapped her on either side.

"Fine," she gasped, "you want it? You'll get it."

With a desperate determination bordering on madness, Tulio wrapped both hands around Altivo's monstrous length, the enormity of it forcing her fingers to barely meet around its circumference. Her slender, feminine fingers looked obscenely small against the veiny, throbbing flesh—like a child trying to grasp a tree trunk. The contrast was jarring—her bronze skin, soft and delicate, against the angry, pulsing organ that was never meant for human touch.

"Come on," she urged through gritted teeth, her voice a mixture of fury and panic. "Let's get this over with."

She began working her hands with frantic energy, feeling the loose skin slide over the rigid core beneath—an alien sensation that made her stomach clench. With every stroke, Altivo's monstrous equipment twitched violently, spattering her chest and face with sticky droplets that burned like tiny brands where they landed.

"Is this what you want?" she demanded, locking eyes with the possessed beast. "Does this please your dark master, priest? Watching a woman debase herself for your twisted amusement?"

Tzekel-Kan's laughter echoed through the chamber. "The gods humbled before beasts! It is more perfect than I could have imagined!"

Altivo's breath came in harsh, ragged bursts now, his massive chest heaving. The flared tip of his obscene appendage swelled further, an angry purple-red that looked painful in its intensity. With each frantic stroke of Tulio's hands, more viscous fluid spurted from its tip, splattering across her décolletage in thick, gelatinous strands.

The smell intensified—sharp, animal, with an acrid undertone that made Tulio's eyes water. It clung to her skin, invaded her nostrils, coated the back of her throat with each desperate breath.

"That's it," she coaxed, her voice cracking as she tried to maintain some semblance of control. "Just... just finish, damn you!"

The angle was all wrong—her back pressed against the cold stone, arms straining upward. With a grimace of determination, she shifted her weight, trying to gain better leverage. The movement caused Altivo to startle, his massive hooves clattering against the stone as he stepped back momentarily.

Tulio seized the opportunity, pushing herself up to her knees. But before she could scramble away, Altivo surged forward again, his tremendous weight driving her back down. She landed hard on her back, the impact knocking the wind from her lungs.

When she blinked the stars away, a new horror awaited. Altivo had repositioned himself, his monstrous anatomy now draped across her torso, its impossible weight pinning her down as effectively as any restraint. It lay between her breasts, the flared head reaching past her collarbone to rest against her neck, each vein and ridge pulsating against her skin.

"Oh gods," she choked, the smell overwhelming at this proximity.

"They cannot help you now," Tzekel-Kan's voice was thick with cruel satisfaction. "No one can."

The heat was unbearable—like a burning coal laid against her flesh. Tulio squirmed, trying to shift her weight, but succeeded only in causing that terrible weight to slide wetly across her skin, leaving trails of sticky residue wherever it touched.

"Finish it," she muttered, half to herself. "Just... finish it."

With renewed determination, she grasped the throbbing intrusion with both hands, one near its base where it emerged from Altivo's body, the other further up the shaft. The loose outer skin shifted over the rigidity beneath, a sensation so alien it made her skin crawl. Yet she persisted, moving her hands with desperate energy, her fingers squeezing and sliding in rhythmic motions.

Altivo's breathing grew more labored, his massive form trembling above her. His head lowered until his hot breath washed over her face, eyes blazing with that unnatural green fire. Yet something else lurked there too—a struggle, as though the real Altivo were fighting to regain control.

"That's it," Tulio encouraged, her voice steadier than she felt. "Fight it, buddy. And for the love of all that's holy, hurry up and finish!"

Her hands moved faster, sliding along the impossible length with growing confidence born of pure necessity. The flared head swelled even further, turning an alarming shade of purple-red. More fluid spurted from the tip with each stroke, splattering across Tulio's neck and chin in thick, viscous globs.

The smell grew stronger—musky, salt-sweat, with an underlying sharpness that made her nostrils burn. It was masculine in a way that transcended humanity, primal and undiluted by civilization's constraints.

Suddenly, Altivo jerked violently above her. A tremor ran through his massive frame, from his twitching ears down to his stomping hooves. The enormous appendage between Tulio's hands seized, growing impossibly harder, veins standing out like ropes beneath the stretched skin.

"Oh no," Tulio breathed, realizing what was about to happen. "No no no—"

Too late.

The flared tip erupted with the force of a geyser. A hot, thick torrent exploded across Tulio's face and chest, the volume and velocity shocking in its intensity. It wasn't a gentle spurting but a violent hosing—as though someone had uncapped a pressurized pipe. The first blast caught her across the cheek and mouth, the second across her forehead and hair. By the third, her face was so thoroughly coated that she could barely see, her eyelashes clumped together with viscous fluid.

And still it kept coming.

Each eruption was preceded by a visible pulsation along the entire length, the massive organ jerking in Tulio's grasp with each new release. Her hands, slick and dripping, maintained their desperate rhythm, driven by pure survival instinct—finish this, end this nightmare, escape.

The fluid was nothing like human emission—thicker, more viscous, with a consistency closer to heavy cream but with glutinous clumps that clung to her skin like white mud. Steam actually rose from the places where it landed, the temperature so hot it seemed to sear her flesh. The smell was overwhelming now, filling the chamber with a musky, animal stench that made her head swim.

"By the gods," Tzekel-Kan's voice had lost some of its smugness, replaced by something that sounded almost like awe. "The beast's potency exceeds even my expectations."

Tulio couldn't respond. Her world had narrowed to the rhythmic movement of her hands, the terrible heat and weight against her chest, and the seemingly endless deluge that coated her borrowed body. It ran in rivulets down her neck, pooled in the hollow of her throat, soaked into her hair until the dark strands were plastered to her scalp.

Altivo whinnied, the sound confused and strained. The green fire in his eyes flickered, dimming momentarily before flaring again with renewed intensity. The obsidian collar around his neck began to glow with an answering light, its symbols writhing like living things.

"What's happening?" Tzekel-Kan's voice held a note of alarm now. "The spell should be at its strongest during the act!"

Tulio looked up at Altivo's face, blinking through the viscous coating on her lashes. The horse's expression was strained, as though fighting some internal battle. His ears flicked back and forth rapidly, his nostrils flared wide with each labored breath.

"Altivo?" she ventured, her voice barely recognizable.

The horse's eyes locked onto hers. For a split second, the green fire dimmed enough for her to see the familiar intelligence beneath. Then it surged again, brighter than before, as the collar's glow intensified.

"No!" the priest's voice rose in panic. "The connection cannot be broken! The power of Xibalba—"

His words were cut short as a tremendous crack echoed through the chamber. The obsidian collar around Altivo's neck split down the middle, falling away in two pieces that shattered against the stone floor. The green fire in the horse's eyes guttered like a candle in a strong wind, then vanished entirely.

Altivo blinked, looking down at Tulio with an expression of utter confusion. Then horror dawned in his all-too-human eyes as he registered what was happening—what he was doing.

With a panicked whinny, he reared back, nearly toppling in his haste to remove himself from the horrifying situation. His still-engorged anatomy slid wetly across Tulio's torso as he backed away, leaving one final thick ribbon of fluid in its wake.

Tulio lay there, gasping for breath, her entire upper body painted in viscous white. The substance was already beginning to cool, transforming from scalding liquid to a glutinous paste that stuck to her skin like wet plaster.

"I don't believe it," Tzekel-Kan's voice was hollow with shock. "The spell... broken... by mere friendship?"

Altivo shook himself violently, as though trying to physically throw off the lingering effects of the possession. His eyes, now their normal warm brown, were wide with distress as he looked at what he'd done to Tulio.

"It's okay," she managed, though her voice was barely functional. "Not your fault."

She tried to sit up, grimacing as the cooling substance pulled at her skin and hair. Every inch of her from mid-torso upward was coated in the stuff—face, hair, neck, chest, even her eyelashes were clumped together with it. The smell clung to her like a second skin, sharp and musky.

"This cannot be!" Tzekel-Kan's furious voice reverberated through the chamber. "No mere mortal can defy the will of Xibalba!"

"Yeah, well," Tulio coughed, wiping futilely at her face, "maybe you should have picked a better horse, skull-boy."

She looked at Altivo, who was watching her with an expression that could only be described as mortified. His ears were flattened against his head, his tail tucked low, his entire posture screaming apology.

"Don't give me that look," she told him, attempting to stand on shaky legs. "It wasn't you. And we're going to pretend this never happened, got it?"

Altivo nodded vigorously, then trotted to her side, offering his flank as support. Tulio leaned against him gratefully, trying not to think about what had just transpired or what was currently drying on her skin.

"Let's find the others and get the hell out of here," she said, her voice stronger now. "And when we do, I'm going to need the biggest bath in El Dorado."

Altivo nickered in agreement, carefully helping her navigate toward the chamber's exit, both of them pointedly ignoring the furious tirade of the disembodied priest.

As they reached the doorway, Tulio paused, looking back at the shattered remains of the obsidian collar. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I think I understand now why Chel wanted my body so badly."

Altivo gave her a questioning look.

"She wasn't running toward something," Tulio continued, grimacing as she felt the substance in her hair beginning to harden. "She was running away from something. From being treated like... this. Like a thing."

The horse nodded solemnly.

"When we get out of here," Tulio decided, "I'm going to have a long talk with our body-snatching friend. After I take about twelve baths."

With that, they left the chamber of trials behind, heading deeper into the labyrinth in search of their companions, both silently agreeing never to speak of what had just occurred. Some trials, after all, were best forgotten.