'Attachment' AU (Maya And The Three)

Part 4

The three looked behind them, seeing the gargoyle following shortly behind. Getting a better look at it's features, it's bones made from a familiar magic Mictlan recognized but couldn't quite pin point what exactly it was...getting a glance at its face only made his blood boil. Finding the familiarity between this stone monstrosity to his former general, Camazotz. The very flying rodent he killed, but wanted to kill again- and again- and again- He was getting ahead of himself, “What's thou hold up?“ The gargoyle asked, stopping and peering up at the two larger beings with narrowed eyes....making Ike shriek and clung onto Soars' leg. “You can talk?!“

“Thee could always speak“

The tension in the air thickened as the gargoyle’s voice echoed, its tone holding a mix of ancient authority and cunning.Mictlan’s grip tightened on his weapon, his gaze never leaving the creature. He couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that the presence of this animated stone wasn't a mere coincidence. The resemblance to Camazotz was too close, too deliberate. He could almost hear the taunting laughter of his old foe, as if this gargoyle was mocking him from beyond the grave.

“Don’t lose focus,“ Soars warned, sensing the battle brewing within Mictlan. The dragon’s eyes narrowed, ready for any sudden moves. “Whatever grudge you’re holding, now’s not the time.“

Mictlan forced himself to exhale slowly, pushing the thoughts of revenge to the back of his mind. The mission was more important than his personal vendetta—at least for now.

The gargoyle's stone wings shifted slightly, scraping against its back with a grinding sound as it waited for a response. “I sense hostility within thee,“ it observed, tilting its head with a smirk that somehow seemed both eerie and knowing.

Ike, still glued to Soars’ leg, whispered, “This thing’s giving me the creeps… can we just—uh—get outta here? Like right now!“ he didn't remember the gargoyle from his last visit, the last time he was here he didn't get attacked and found the blue print with no issues. What changed?

Mictlan didn’t answer, his thoughts too tangled in memories of betrayal, rage, and unfinished business. He had ended Camazotz, but this… gargoyle, seemed like a ghost resurrected just to test him.

The gargoyle’s smirk widened as it watched Mictlan’s internal struggle, the grinding of stone echoing softly as its wings shifted once more. "Thee can feel it, can’t thee?" it rasped, its voice almost a low rumble. "The shadow of what once was. But heed me, warrior—dwell not on the past, for the trials ahead will test more than thy mettle. They shall test thy resolve, thy soul."

Soars’ eyes flickered between Mictlan and the gargoyle, sensing that this encounter was more than just a chance meeting. “What do you mean by ‘trials’?” she asked, her raspy voice carrying a note of concern.

The gargoyle straightened, its expression losing some of its mirth. “I am Itzquemitl, guardian of this tower and warden of the trials set forth by the ancients. Those who seek to tread beyond must prove their worth—or be consumed by the very essence of what they fear most.” Its gaze fixed on Mictlan, the stony features tightening as it added, “For thee, that fear takes a familiar form, does it not?”

Mictlan’s eyes blazed with barely restrained fury. "I’ve faced worse than stone imitations," he snarled, though deep down, he could feel his old hatred burning brighter. He had murdered Camazotz, and yet this specter of his past had clawed its way back to taunt him, daring him to fall into the trap of vengeance once more.

“Focus,” Soars’ voice cut through Mictlan’s thoughts. “This is what it wants—what whatever lies ahead needs—to drag you down before we even begin.”

Itzquemitl chuckled, a sound like crumbling rock. “Wise words, angel. But understand this—only by confronting the specters within will thee have any hope of emerging from these trials whole. For in this place, shadows take form, and the past is never truly buried.”

Ike shivered, gripping Soars’ leg tighter as the implications of Itzquemitl’s words sunk in. “I really, really don’t like this,” he whimpered. “Can we just leave? Find another way?”

“There is no other way,” Itzquemitl replied, its tone suddenly grave. “For those who seek to pass through this domain, the trials are inevitable. Turn back now, if thou lacks the courage. But if thee chooses to proceed, be prepared to face what lies dormant in the darkest corners of thy heart.”

Mictlan’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his weapon. He could almost see Camazotz’s serious face superimposed over Itzquemitl’s cold, stone features. He knew there was no turning back now. Whatever this trial was, whatever this place held—he would see it through, if only to lay this ghost to rest once and for all.

With a deep breath, Mictlan took a step forward, his voice steady but laced with venom. “We accept the challenge. Itzquemitl.”

“That's not how thee trials work....the trials are inevitable...no matter what you say“ The stone beast huffed, walking to one of the walls as it puffed out a spell. The magic on the palm of it's Stony claws as it's talons met the dark incantations on the wall, Peasant Magic Mictlan thought once the answer hit the back of his skull. This Gargoyle was made from the magic of the ancestors of Luna island, the magic itself was created by the natives of the year of the Rooster....magic that made many lose themselves...magic that created and enchanted many golems and objects for protected purposes.

As the trio moved deeper into the shadowed passage, the air grew colder, and a feeling of dread settled in. Mictlan could almost hear the echoes of fear, and this time, he wasn’t sure if it was coming from the past—or from the trial that awaited him ahead.