As we burst into the open, the curling smoke fills my lungs—a harsh reminder of the ruination that has enveloped Analoixan. Wooden houses crumble around us, becoming nothing more than charred skeletons. The last few drops of rain sizzle as they meet the scorched ground beneath our feet. It now falls in a gentle drizzle, as if the skies themselves have grown weary of weeping over the land’s devastation.

Ahead, Tlexnín’s silhouette cuts through the damp haze. She inspects the destruction that’s ravaged her precious city, but it’s difficult to tell what she feels with her ever-present stoicism. With her obsidian-tipped spear poised and ready, the blade subtly glinting in green, she signals to her warriors to follow our lead.

Beside me, Paxilche stirs, his gaze hardening as he takes in the desolation. He grips his weapon tighter, tensely clutching Ridgebreaker as his consciousness visibly claws its way back from the dark depths to which it had been banished. He and I flank the Ulxa leader, and with her warriors close behind to form a protective circle around us, I’m taken by the sense that they’re ready to reclaim what’s theirs from the clutches of the Eye in the Flame.

Shattering the fleeting calm, a reverberant boom echoes through the ruins, sending a shockwave that vibrates in my chest. Glowing specks of fire coalesce in the distance, growing larger and more defined with every passing moment. Fire dogs charge towards us, and there is a far greater number of them now. Their bodies are wreathed in flames that cast an eerie light on the broken landscape, with their forms becoming massive and more menacing than before. Glowing with malevolence, their eyes fixate on us, as if we are the last obstacles standing in the way of their masters’ conquest. Behind them, crimson-robed sorcerers of the Eye in the Flame emerge, witnessing the chaos with dark glee.

Tlexnín raises her spear, her jaw tightening as her gaze focuses on the approaching threat. “This ends now,” she declares, her voice as sharp as an obsidian blade. Then, carrying over the tumult, she whoops a rallying cry that seems to stir something primal within me, within all of us, “For Ulxa!”

As the beasts bear down upon us, their growls merging into a single, terrifying roar, I brace myself. I can feel the heat from the fire dogs before we even meet. But also, the amulets at my chest grow warm as the surge of power flows through my veins.

With his eyes narrowed, Paxilche steps forward, ready to unleash the fury of the storm that he commands. I can feel the energy pulsing through him, eager to be set free against our foes. A twinge of fear perks up within me, hoping that, this time, he will better control his rage, concentrating it only upon the true enemy.

The first of the fiery beasts leaps into the fray. With a thunderous thump, the ground around us trembles as it lands. Baring its blackened teeth, it snarls with a bellowing growl that resonates within my chest. In a swift motion, it pounces upon a group of Ulxa warriors, pinning them to the scorched dirt beneath its paws. They howl in pain, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe the monster takes pleasure in its prey’s suffering. It chomps down on its victims, splitting them in half with one gigantic bite.

Paxilche raises Ridgebreaker and shouts intelligibly to the heavens. Pounding thunder and blinding flashes of lightning reflect his anger. Bringing the war club down with a flourish, he strikes the ground with the weapon, causing the beast to be struck numerous times with electrifying bolts. The creature is able to resist, with searing shocks striking its body all over. That is, until Paxilche delivers a more intense barrage upon his target. The fire dog is disintegrated upon impact, shattering into millions upon millions of particles that scatter about the area.

But no sooner than when the monster is defeated, a dozen more appear in its place, hopping over debris to reach our location. The Ulxa charge at the beasts under Tlexnín’s command, slashing fervently at the enemy with their obsidian swords. Though many only strike the fire dogs’ hardened outer coat, some manage to pierce the vulnerable interior, sending the beasts into a cloud of swirling ash.

The fire dogs claw their way through scores of the Ulxa warriors, and we can’t make any headway in reducing their numbers. Then, to make matters worse, a flurry of flames erupt around us. Emerging through the thick smoke, several dozen figures in red robes appear, advancing toward our location. The ruined homes are mere tinder for their destructive desires, bursting into massive columns of fire. The heat is suffocating, surrounding us and making me feel like capybara roasting for a ceremonial meal.

“Paxilche!” I call out in desperation. His head whips around, eyes wide and alert. “I need water! I need rain!”

With a single nod, Paxilche closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. Resting the top of Ridgebreaker onto the ground, he casts a single hand toward the dark storm clouds that hover above us. I feel as though I can hear his thoughts, calmly, peacefully praying to the skies to unleash their healing relief upon us. Within a few breaths, more frequent drops of rain descend, soon making it difficult to see the enemy before us. Yet the fire dogs, glowing in their terrible orange flames, make it visibly apparent where else danger looms. The sweltering heat becomes greater and greater, and I feel my throat closing up as the fire starts to consume us. We don’t have much more time.

The water at my command is ready to quench the inferno. With a few abrupt motions of my hand, I focus on collecting the rain, gathering it into one singular, massive pool. My energy is already starting to wither, concentrating on manipulating such a significant amount. But I must fight through the exhaustion—too much depends on this succeeding.

I manage nearly half a house full of water, accumulated and floating above the splintered remains of an Ulxa home. This will have to do, and I hope it’s enough. I wave my hands parallel to the ground, emulating the soothing movement of a tranquil sea, and bring the waters through the burning skeletons of Ulxa houses. The water collides with the flames, gradually extinguishing them with each flick of my wrist.

The procedure takes too long, however. Though the fires begin to extinguish, and the ground waterlogged in their wake, the sorcerers only raise more flames in other nearby areas. It takes too much of my focus to put out the flames, leaving the warriors vulnerable to more attacks by the fire hounds. Too much effort, too much energy is required, and I drop to one knee. Between the exertion and the thickening smoke that surrounds us, I struggle to breathe. Yet I keep my hands lifted and maneuver the ever-shrinking ball of water over the threatening flames.

“Paxilche…” I meekly cry out, but my words are practically whispers, nearly impossible to distinguish above the calamity around us. I can only barely extinguish the fires, but too many other threats remain. What more can be done? Will our fight not be enough? Will the Eye in the Flame claim victory?

The skies angrily unleash a fury of lightning, cascading about the grounds. Shouts in anguish erupt sporadically about the battlefield. Has he struck any more innocent Ulxa warriors? I’m too weak to notice, and I fear what will be revealed to me if we survive this fight. Yet the flames become fewer and easier to put out, and the howls of fire dogs shrink and shrink. I can only hope it’s our enemy who’s been stopped by Paxilche.

A hand clutches my elbow, delicately trying to lift me up to my feet. “Walumaq, are you alright?” a concerned Paxilche asks. His face is grave and solemn, telling me all I need to know about the appearance of my condition.

I cough puffs of ash from my lungs. “I’m… okay, I promise,” I respond weakly, trying my best to assuage his fears. I place a hand on the ground and attempt to push myself up, but only stumble forward, barely catching myself before falling prone.

He is less than convinced. “We need to return you to the temple,” he says assertively, facing the enormous pyramid that towers like a mountain over all of Analoixan. But I place a hand over his, hoping to dissuade him.

“I’m okay,” I try again. “I just need… a moment to… regain a little more… strength.”

Paxilche looks around the scene for a moment, then shakes his head precipitously, as if some realization occurs to him. He reaches for the necklace around his neck, then removes the amulet and places it over my head until it dangles upon my chest. “You need this more than I do,” he affirms. “I’ll be okay without it. But it will—no, hear me out. It’ll be more effective if the amulet is with you, given your understanding of your abilities.”

As soon as the precious gemstone touches my chest, I’m filled with inexplicable warmth. My legs no longer tremble and shiver under the weight of supporting myself, and I feel resurgent almost instantaneously. Breathing becomes immediately easier, and my perception of the battlefield is clearer than before.

I look around, noticing the evolving situation. Ulxa warriors charge fiercely at the enemy, striking down the countless fire dogs with swift and fluid attacks. Tlexnín and a band of warriors have reached the red-robed sorcerers, cutting their numbers down with relative ease. There’s a bloodthirsty gleam in the Ulxa leader’s eyes, seeking more foes to quench her desire for sending them to a violent end. While I will never share in her lust for bloodshed, I can only sigh in relief to know that she is an ally.

The ground begins splitting all around us, releasing pillars of fire that climb toward the darkened skies. Many a hapless Ulxa warrior are immediately consumed by the flames or swallowed up into the crevasses and fall to their fiery fate. I search the scene, knowing there must be an Eye in the Flame sorcerer behind this cruel and evil display. Sure enough, a solitary figure in a deep crimson robe emerges through plumes of ashen gray smoke. My eyes strain to discern who would seek to do such a despicable deed, and then it becomes painfully apparent to me: I recognize the horrible source of this chaos.

He grins menacingly, and his eyes are fixed to mine unwaveringly. “So,” he says unhumorously, his voice barely discernible through the din of discordance, “the one with the blue and red feather, we meet again. I have been waiting to seek my revenge upon the so-called ‘Champion of Xaqilpa’ since Qespina. I will take much pleasure in your demise.”

I crouch low, preparing myself for the incoming attack. But before I can summon the water again, he’s joined by two others in crimson robes. Something bright glows like a torch from their chests, yet it’s an ominous, deep green hue, and I quickly realize they, too, possess amulets! The jarring sight sinks my hopes, knowing how terrifyingly effective they could be by obtaining such artifacts.

I must act quickly, before they can carry out their dreadful plans. Clutching the amulets at my chest, radiating a nurturing warmth in my palm, I concentrate all my attention on the storm clouds that drift above. Like wringing out wet cloth, I attempt to pull every drop of water from them that I can. Yet something is fighting me, preventing me from making any progress. What is causing the resistance? Could this be the work of the sorcerers and the amulets they have?

An unnatural green and purple glow pulsates from the clouds, twisting and contorting above. The sorcerers raise their hands toward the sky, and muffled chanting in the guttural Ulxa language pierces through the fracas of the surrounding chaos. Lightning streaks through the air, crackling and causing the hairs at the back of my neck to tingle.

Amidst the battle with the fire dogs, the Ulxa warriors drop to their knees as if struck by a blunt object simultaneously. Beside me, Paxilche winces and groans in pain, clutching his chest. He falls forward and barely catches himself before hitting the ground. I rush over to him and check to see what’s causing his ailment, but there’s no sign of any harm.

“My chest,” he utters in a strained voice. “Something is… pressing a-against… my chest…”

From my periphery, Tlexnín drops to the ground. Her proud headpiece tumbles before her, but she’s in too much pain to notice or care. My heart leaps in my throat as I watch a fire dog charge at her, sprinting at full speed with its sharp, black teeth exposed. I go to call out to her, to warn her of the incoming danger. But she needs not my help. With her jaw clinched, she fights off her injuries and lifts herself up. She ferociously slashes at the incoming beast, her obsidian spear catching the creature’s head and flinging it aside. As the beast regains its balance, she disjointedly scrambles over to it and, with a mighty roar, brings down her wide blade upon its neck. After a few hacks, she severs the dog’s head, and its body disintegrates into ash.

Though victorious, the moment is fleeting. More beasts approach, and cultists in ashen gray robes also make their way here. Have they laid to waste my companions and the Auilqa outside the city walls? Is this a sign that the Eye in the Flame have nearly won this assault on Analoixan?

Everyone around me—the Ulxa warriors, Paxilche, Tlexnín—struggle to get up and defend themselves from the incoming attack. I look at Paxilche and see his skin turn a sickly white, almost translucent, as though all color is being drained from his skin. Then my gaze is drawn to the scenery around me, a completely disturbing sight on top of what was already grizzly and repulsive. As if the ruins weren’t enough, Analoixan appears to be… decaying. There’s no other way to describe it. The destroyed walls and structures begin falling apart and developing a black mold that grows and spread rapidly. The suffocating smell of death surrounds this place. It’s like the city is a dying organism, rotting from within. Something is causing our people and the city to weaken, crumble, and deteriorate… but I’m somehow unaffected?

Then I recall the obsidian and copper amulet dangling from my neck, the one that protected me from the sorcerer’s might the last time we confronted one another. So thatmust be why I feel no ill effects. But the others possess no such ward, and I don’t know how much longer they’ll be able to resist the effects of the sorcerers’ powers.

How can I utilize this amulet’s powers to protect everyone in Analoixan? My other amulet—the one with jade and onyx—seems to amplify my powers. Is there some way to combine them both, but to affect others without abilities like mine?

An idea strikes me like lightning from the ever-present storm. The sorcerer is joined by two other companions, so perhaps I’ll fare better if I have people possessing abilities as I’m able to, unifying our efforts against the enemy. Then, since one of my amulets can ward off dark powers, I might be able to utilize it to counter the effects unleashed by the sorcerers.

But I’ll need to find Saqatli, and he’s been lost to the fray outside the walls. Is he still alive? Has the arrival of the gray-garbed cultists to my location indicated that the battle outside of Analoixan is finished, and all that remains is their access of the palace? I can’t allow that to happen.

I pick up the ailing Paxilche, straining to bring him to his feet. He comes to and slowly realizes what’s happening. “Where… are you taking me?” he asks in between gasping coughs.

“We need to find Saqatli,” I say, practically dragging him away from the area. “The Eye in the Flame’s sorcerers are unleashing some dark force upon the city, but I think I have a way to stop them.”

Paxilche’s expression is one of marked determination, understanding the urgency without hesitation. As best he can, he picks up the pace and runs with me toward the outer limit of Analoixan. The decay spreads like outstretched vines, gradually extending further and further from the sorcerer’s position. Perhaps their powers aren’t strong enough to affect all of the city yet, but it appears to be increasing little by little. This realization strengthens my resolve further, knowing that all is not lost if they can just be stopped in time.

The tendrils of rot follow us to the edge of town, bringing with it the acrid sweetness of decomposition that singes my nostrils. Frequently, I glance over to Paxilche, who withstands the pain to keep up with me. We press on, and the calamitous sounds of combat get louder and louder with each step. I hate to confess it, but I’m almost relieved to hear the fighting, knowing it means the Eye in the Flame have not yet won.

When we arrive, the scene is despairing to look upon. Bodies, both of Auilqa and Eye in the Flame zealots, are strewn about like a farmer sewing his lands. The charred remains of the dead combined with the depleted perimeter walls tell me that the fire dogs were once here, though their repulsive presence is nowhere to be seen at the moment. I can’t decide whether this fortuitous sight is an indication of something favorable or foreboding.

In the distance, the unmistakable colors worn by warriors of the Sanqo houses flicker and flash amidst the disorder of battle. I soon recognize Pomaqli, as well, joining in the fight alongside Atoyaqtli, Chiqama, and Naqispi. Close to them, Saqatli is tending to Pomacha, suffering from a terrible gash to his upper torso and left arm. While the wound looks severe, you wouldn’t know from Pomacha’s expression, fiercely staring at the ensuing battle, and evident he wants nothing more than to return to the action.

Paxilche and I hurry over to the pair, narrowly avoiding the combatants engaged in their fervent fight. There are numerous close calls, with blades and balls of fire wizzing past us dangerously close. The heat from the embers of ruined walls and homes rages on about us, casting the scene in a terrible orange glow amidst the gloom of the storm clouds.

Saqatli initially panics when we arrive, but lets out an exasperated sigh upon recognizing our faces. “Praise Iolatl, you are alive!” he exclaims, his voice resounding in my mind. “When I lost sight of you, I feared the worst!” His relief is palpable, pausing to take in the sight of our presence.

Yet there’s another concerning observation I’ve made. “Where is your companion, Noch?” I ask. Though I hear his voice in my head, the ocelot is nowhere to be seen, and now it is I who fears the worst.

Saqatli smiles with pride. “I have been tending to the wounded,” he answers, “and she has been signaling me to them. If I run out of supplies to use for healing, she has collected them for me. It is something we have done when we have found animals wounded or ensnared in the traps of our hunters. You should know I would never put her in the way of harm!”

“And how are you–“

Before I can finish my question, he responds, his smile growing larger, “I have enlisted the native hummingbirds to assist me, as well.”

While the thought is comforting about his companion, I’m still a bit worried. But, there are other pressing matters that need tending to. “Sorcerers of the Eye in the Flame have made their way to the palace,” I start to tell Saqatli, “and they’ve begun to…” I find myself at a loss for words as to how I could describe such a horrific sight. Instead, I choose to be direct, telling him, “They’re using a dark magic to destroy Analoixan. But I believe I know how they can be stopped, which involves the others. I see them, but I don’t know how I can reach them.”

“I will retrieve them,” Pomacha says in his deep, booming voice. He starts to stand up, but is in too much pain and thumps back to the ground. Clutching his chest, Saqatli quickly applies some type of ointment or herbal remedy to it, immediately soothing the valiant warrior.

“We’ll need to find another way,” I say, hoping some inspiration comes to me. Instead, it’s Saqatli who finds it, another proud expression washing over him.

“I already have the messengers we can use!” he says enigmatically. As if reading the question marked on my face, he explains, “I can have the birds carry our message by…” Something concerning abruptly brings Saqatli overwhelming disappointment as his gaze sweeps the scene. “Wait, I cannot speak to them! They do not possess our abilities, so what if I cannot deliver a message with my mind?”

“Perhaps we could use this…” I start to suggest, then begin ripping strips from my deep blue tunic, long enough to span the length of a forearm. “If you could get the hummingbirds to carry these in their beaks, the Sanqo color could alert them to my presence. Have them get our allies’ attention this way.”

A wide smile spans Saqatli’s face, and he nods excitedly. Then, he closes his eyes, as if diligently concentrating on the plan. In an instant, a shimmer or movement catches the corner of my eye. A flurry of tiny hummingbirds in emerald and ruby feathers that catch the fire light, dart through the air. Even with the discordant noises of battle surrounding us, their wings buzz as they hover around the Auilqa boy.

Saqatli holds out the four strips of blue cloth, then looks at the hummingbirds individually, never uttering a word aloud. Suddenly, each bird takes off, carrying a strip of the clothing and weaving expertly through the chaos in a blur of dazzling colors. They soar to each of our allies, fluttering about and attempting to be noticed by the target while not being inadvertently struck.

I hold my breath, wondering how successful this gambit will be. Each warrior is engaged in an intense duel, with so much at risk. I begin to question if, instead, I should have utilized the other warriors allied to our cause. Knowing how difficult the communication would be, maybe this was the best—and only—course of action. Now, it’s too late to turn back and try another approach. I can only pray to any deity who would listen.

It appears I’ve been heard, as everyone quickly arrives to my location. Chiqama, however, grabs his leg and grimaces in pain. He’s been gashed, bleeding profusely to where his entire side is soaked in blood. “I got distracted by the bird!” Chiqama yells in response to Naqispi’s probing inquiry. This elicits a laugh from the Sanqo warrior, much to Chiqama’s chagrin, and Atoyaqtli also finds no humor in the matter. Before Chiqama can seek aid, Saqatli quickly tends to him, applying some herbal treatment and reaching for cloth to tie around his wound.

“Did you summon us, princess?” Atoyaqtli asks, concerned.

I nod. “The Eye in the Flame are using dark magic to destroy the palace and all of Analoixan. But I have a way to stop them, and possibly turn the tide of this assault.”

With their attention fixed upon me, I relay my plan. “The sorcerers have seemingly summoned something dark through their grotesque magic, which is causing the city and all warriors caught within its reach to weaken and decay, as if the life is being sucked out of them. The Ulxa warriors and their leader, Tlexnín, are trapped in that area, fighting off these treacherous fire dogs that are clearing the way for the Eye in the Flame to take over the palace.”

“So, what do you need from us?” Naqispi asks, as if I was never going to get to my point. He appears to want to ask more, but the turquoise-tailed ocelot leaps next to Saqatli, startling Naqispi and causing him to curse under his breath.

“I believe they’re performing some ritual, some ceremony,” I resume my explanation. “It was faint, but I could hear some murmuring. I possess an amulet,” I hold up the obsidian stone on the copper chain, “that wards off dark magic. Their power is growing in strength the longer they go unimpeded in performing this ritual, but if they become distracted, I may be able to use this, in conjunction with the focused energy and powers of those possessing abilities, to stop whatever it is they’re doing and reverse the spell they’ve casted.”

Those present search everyone gathered to account for the magic users. The first two are obvious: Saqatli and me. The Sanqo exchange glances, questioning if the two of us—one being a boy, on top of that—will be enough to execute this plan. It’s after a long pause when Pomaqli, recognizing the confusion, and the answer to their unspoken question, states aloud, “There’s a third with such capabilities.”

He nods toward Paxilche, leaving everyone in confused silence. “There are even more?” Naqispi asks, baffled. “Well, now I have questions!”

“They will have to be asked another time,” Atoyaqtli responds. “For now, we need to distract the sorcerers and clear a way for these three to disrupt their ritual. Let’s make our way toward them and cut off the head of this snake.”

We all rush back into the city, with each healthy warrior supporting the injured or wounded as we hurry. The fire dogs have annihilated the grounds around the palace, scorching everything into embers. The scent of smoldering campfires mixed with pure rot overwhelms my nose, and I worry that we may be too late to rescue the Ulxa warriors and Analoixan. But then a war cry pierces the air just out of sight, and I recognize the fierce shouts of Tlexnín rallying her warriors. We still have a chance to vanquish this foe and save this city.

“Perhaps you can lead the enemy toward our allies,” I suggest. “That way, you won’t have to take them on yourselves and will have support.”

“What if they don’t recognize us, and begin to attack?” A concerned Chiqama challenges.

“Don’t put on a robe, and I’m confident you’ll be spared,” Naqispi declares with a smirk.

Paxilche, who has been slowly regaining his strength, and I lead them to the area we encountered the sorcerers. Everything in sight has deteriorated into decay, mold springing up upon every tree, every felled support beam, every item that once held life. We split up, with my Sanqo companions and Pomaqli rushing off, vanishing into the thin mist suspended over the scene of devastation. The battle rages nearby, and we leap over fallen timber and debris to get closer.

At the center of the decaying scene, the three sorcerers continue, their chanting having grown louder now and more hurried. A purplish black… I don’t know how else to describe it other than ‘radiance’, though the aura that surrounds the cultists is of sinister intent and doesn’t deserve such an awe-inspiring word. The intensity of the glow illuminates brighter than the surrounding fires that burn the homes to the ground, seemingly increasing in power.

“We don’t have much time,” I shout to Saqatli and Paxilche. “If they complete this ritual, all of Analoixan and all its people will fall to decay.”

“I hope the others can resist the effects of the sorcerers long enough to create a formidable distraction,” Saqatli says nervously, his wide eyes gazing upon the scene intently.

After a few too many heartbeats, a dense, thick fog curls about the area. Is this from the sorcerers? Is this part of the ritual? It envelopes the cultists, and I lose sight of them as they become shrouded in a sheet of gray and white. A few shouts and cries of pain spring up through the opaque scene.

I begin to fear the worst, believing the ritual to be nearing its completion. But then Saqatli points and grins widely. “Look! It is them!” he cheers in broken Merchant’s Tongue. Off on the other side, the five warriors emerge from the fog, their faces covered with some type of cloth mechanism. Chiqama supports Naqispi, who clutches his arm as they all run off. Atoyaqtli signals vaguely, gesturing toward the sorcerers’ last known location. Then, they disappear into the ruins of the city under the cover of darkness. From behind them, a series of what I assume to be barked commands in the stilted Ulxa tongue rise above the calamity, and figures in gray robes wielding obsidian swords chase after our staggering companions. But, most importantly, I notice the chanting has ceased.

As the fog begins to settle, the three figures no longer appear to be standing where they once were. Where have they gone? I search the scene for their presence, but they’re nowhere to be found. I don’t trust my eyes, believing they must be close. Yet Paxilche has no reservations about what has played out before us.

“Now’s our chance!” he remarks, and rushes over to where the zealots were. Saqatli and his ocelot companion follow, but I join them with excessive caution. Something doesn’t feel right about this. It all seems a bit too convenient, too simple.

Suddenly, Paxilche crashes onto the ground, having been flung back by some invisible force. He shivers violently as if struck by lightning, and purplish-red bruises litter his arms, legs, and face. Saqatli crouches next to him, holding him gingerly while trying to sooth the ailing Qiapu.

“There must be some protective… shield, or ward,” I say, attempting to figure out what harmed Paxilche. Investigating the area, there’s no indication of any physical barrier, no walls or unseen guardians. Could their dark magic be at work here? Perhaps this is why they felt comfortable departing the space, knowing the location of their ritual would be protected.

Paxilche comes to, confused about what happened to him. Saqatli calms him down, patting his shoulders gently, as I explain my theory. “Makes… sense,” Paxilche wheezes before succumbing to a coughing fit. “How do we get through it, though?”

Saqatli points to my chest, and within my head, I hear his voice ask, “Does your jewelry always glow in such a manner?” I look down at the amulets hanging from my neck, glowing a vibrant green and otherworldly black as they release a warmth upon my skin. I recall how they’ve done this before, how they glow and emit warmth on occasion. Though I’ve never considered how this happens, Saqatli’s mention of their glow gives me the belief that it must be related to something about this site, or something about the use of magic. While my initial plan was to harness my abilities through the powers of the amulets, perhaps it is the amulets that are the answer to this problem.

“The amulets” I say, simply and with great enthusiasm at the revelation. “My obsidian amulet should ward off the dark magic, and the jade and onyx amulet should amplify its power. They seem to be affected by the use of magic, so they could be used to stop the effects of this ritual.”

“But how?” Paxilche asks, confused.

I stare long and hard at the site of the ritual, the area that caused Paxilche harm when he got close to it. Staring into it, there on the ground, are a series of patterns, along with numerous items placed among the designs. Obsidian daggers with ornate, gold handles glimmer from the surrounding fires. Small, copal incense burners release small wisps of dark gray smoke that twist into the air like gnarled claws. Jade figurines and gold ornaments are positioned in certain, seemingly strategic locations among the geometric shapes. Masks of snarling figures are made of turquoise with vicious, sharp teeth, appearing carelessly cast aside, perhaps as a result of being thrown once their ritual was disrupted. All this, all this effort, just to destroy the Ulxa out of spite.

Recalling my duel with the sorcerer in Qespina, it appeared that the obsidian amulet gave me the protection against his powers. Though he never possessed any of these items—or, at least, none that I could see—my ability to stop his evil deeds rested on the power of the amulets. I was able to use the deep-purple-glowing obsidian gemstone to remove the dark magic that plagued the Qespina shaman, and the jade and onyx amulet to increase its power to reenergize him. Will the same apply here? Will I be protected from whatever ward is cast to protect their evil ritual?

As I move closer to where Paxilche was repelled, a cold prickle dances up my spine. The air grows denser, like wading through the deep sea. Each step feels heavier, and the glowing amulets on my chest throb in sync with my racing heart, casting eerie shadows on the ground. It’s as though they are hungry for the dark magic that saturates this place, ready to devour and cleanse it.

Inhaling deeply, I brace myself against the fear gnawing at me. Saqatli looks on with great trepidation, fearing for my safety. I don’t blame him—even I am unsure of the wisdom in what I’m going to try. I slowly approach the space, extending my hand out as though reaching for the surface of the ward. But caution has little room left to maneuver here. With each tentative step, the pressure builds, an invisible storm brewing against my skin. Another step, then another, and I feel nothing. Have I stepped through the magical forcefield? Am I–

Then, a searing pain lashes out as I breach the boundary, a scream trapped in my throat. No sooner than when I believe I’ve cleared the threshold, an overwhelming pain surges through my muscles and bones. Yet amidst the agony, a surge of clarity washes over me, a paradoxical comfort within the torment. The amulets at my neck pulse like living beings, radiating an intensifying warmth that penetrates the ice-cold dread clenching my heart. They glow fiercely now, each pulse sending waves of healing energy that counteract the jagged edges of pain seeking to tear me to shreds.

As the dark powers course through me, each thread in my body rebels, caught between destruction and renewal. I feel as if I’m being torn apart and stitched back together by invisible hands, expert in their cruelty, yet gentle in their care. The darkness that envelops the ritual site seems to churn, reacting to the presence of the obsidian, jade, and onyx hanging heavily around my neck. I can almost hear a sizzling sound, like rain on hot coals, as the dark energy collides with the protective aura of my amulets. It’s a battle within the air itself, visible in the swirling shadows that reach for me, only to recoil as if burned each time they near the glowing stones.

I press on, finding a strange kind of equilibrium that keeps me standing, keeps me moving toward the heart of the ritual. The threshold of pain and power blurs, and I am both lost and found within it. The edges of my vision dims as if the night itself descends upon my eyes. The urgent voices of Saqatli and Paxilche pierce through the encroaching darkness, pulling at my consciousness. The swirling shadows lash out with ferocity. My knees buckle, and I can barely keep myself upright.

“Paxilche! Saqatli!” I gasp, with each word like a blade in my throat.

I faintly hear Paxilche call out, “We must help her take on this dark force, Saqatli!” Then, “Walumaq, hold on!”

“This is not the way!” Saqatli’s voice cuts through the discord within my mind. “We can find another solution, one that does not demand such a sacrifice!”

Paxilche charges, “There’s no time, Saqatli! Every moment we hesitate, Analoixan crumbles further. It’s the only way to break through. We have no other choice.”

Their voices swirl around me. I feel hands on my shoulders. Their hands, I think. I hope. With a final push, I channel all that I am into the amulets. Their glow becomes a blinding radiance. The ground beneath my feet vibrates. The world tilts.

“Walumaq!” is the last word I hear. Shouts blend with the thunderous howl of the encompassing tempest, as darkness claims me completely.