Revolutions

135 - Saqatli

The throne room is a tomb of memories.

Shattered stone and broken weapons litter the floor where once my people stood in reverence. The smell of ash still permeates the air, mixed with the faint tang of blood, as though the room itself has been wounded. Once the heart of this chamber, the grand sundial lies shattered in a dozen jagged pieces. Its intricate carvings that were meant to chart the heavens and the seasons are now meaningless. Time itself feels fractured, just like everything else here.

I look up at the destroyed ceiling, where dapples of sunlight seep through the tattered leaves and broken branches, spilling onto the fractured stone below. The rubble is a graveyard of what used to be. Fragments of stone columns lie scattered like broken bones. Splintered wooden beams poke out from the wreckage like jagged teeth. Once hung proudly on the walls, ceremonial weapons now lie twisted and discarded among the debris. Torn banners that once bore the sigils of Auilqa victories hang limp, half-buried under the collapsed roof. Even the throne itself, what should be a symbol of our strength, is cracked down the middle, split like the fate of the Auilqa.

I remember how this chamber used to be. It was alive with voices, strong with purpose. The warriors flanking our revered ruler, the elders who would provide their council, the leaders who commanded respect—they are all echoes now, reduced to whispers among the rubble.

It is a ruin. The Eye in the Flame have seen to that. The head of the Great Xolotzi, who everyone thought was all-powerful, almost immortal, now stares lifelessly into the empty beyond. Everything that distinguished the Auilqa as a proud faction have been reduced to hollow remnants of what was.

I run my hand over a cracked pillar, touching the cool stone with the tips of my fingers. I want to believe the Auilqa can rise again, that this is only a temporary wound. But deep down, I feel it—the ever-present dread. A hollow pit that grows with every breath I take in this cursed place.

Everything that once made this city proud has crumbled into disrepair.

I think of my family. Are they safe? Have they survived the onslaught? It eats away at me, the not knowing. They may have disowned me, cast me aside, but blood still binds us. My heart clenches with the desire to search for them, to know if they are alive and unharmed. But I stand frozen.

What would I even say if I found them? After all this? After they have made it clear I am nothing to them?

Besides, there is no time to let fear rule me now. The Eye in the Flame have torn through the very core of our people—of my people. And I cannot abandon my companions here. Not when everything hangs in the balance. The fate of the Auilqa rests on what we do next.

My companions argue with the three outsiders in the middle of this dilapidated chamber. The manner in which they speak is intense, angry. You should know how upset this makes me, this infighting. Paxilche appears to have upset them, with his strike of lightning that wiped out the Eye in the Flame sorcerers. The confrontation is loud, filled with fury. They gesture at one another with abrupt, emphatic pointing and snarled mouths. Though part of me wants to understand what is being exchanged, I am too distraught by what has taken place moments earlier, what has happened to the heart of the Auilqa, to be bothered to listen through Noch. The despair is too overwhelming.

And the people... my people... they are not the same either. I see it in their faces. Warriors who were once unbreakable now wear their defeat like chains. Some still hold onto the fire, the will to fight. But the others, I see the doubt in their eyes. I feel the cracks beneath their surface. We are no longer a united force, no longer the sharp blade we once were. We are fragments—scattered like the stones at my feet.

I wonder if we can ever be whole again. Or if the Auilqa, like this city, are too far gone.

Sensing my sorrow, Noch rubs her head against my shoulder. My faithful companion. Her presence is comforting, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, some bonds hold strong. I scratch behind her ears, feeling the warmth of her fur beneath my fingers.