Revolutions

154 - Teqosa

The wind carries the ash of forgotten fires. It scrapes against my skin, fine and sharp, like it's trying to carve its mark into me. Pichaqta stands ahead, its gates swallowing the horizon. There, enormous slabs of blackened stone are etched with carvings of the Qiapu. The designs are still there, barely, but they've been scraped over, crudely overwritten with symbols that don't belong—twisted shapes of fire and claws and things I don't want to name. The defacement hits me like a blow to the chest. This was once sacred. I can feel the mockery of it, the deliberate erasure of something beautiful, something that belonged to the people of Pachil.

"It's too quiet," Paxilche mutters, breaking the silence. His voice is flat, but there's a nervousness he tries to mask with annoyance. "Where are the guards? The patrols? The... those in gray robes?"

No one answers. I don't have one. My instinct says they're here, hiding in the shadows, waiting for us to stumble into their trap. The Eye in the Flame never leaves their territory unguarded. They're bold, unrelenting. This... absence... is wrong, indeed.

I catch a glance of the cart and its tired llama trudging behind us. Upachu walks alongside it, lightly resting his hand on the animal's flank, his face creased with worry. Noch pads close to her human companion, her ears swiveling with every sound, and with her body low to the ground.

Walumaq turns, her gaze lingering on the small procession. Her brow furrows as her hand drifts to her amulet, almost absentmindedly, fingers brushing the cool stone like it might grant her clarity.

"We need to decide what to do," she quietly confides to me. "Upachu, the cart, Noch and the llama... they can't come with us."

She is, of course, correct. They all seem ill-suited for what we're about to face. And I can't, in my right mind, allow them to enter into the danger we're likely to face.

Sensing our uncomfortable deliberations must pertain to him, Upachu clear his throat. He straightens, his brows lifting in mock surprise. "And leave you lot to face whatever's in there alone? No chance. I've survived worse than this, princess."

"You've survived worse because you're smart enough to know when to stay back," Walumaq calmly responds. "I will place you in the capable hands of Atoyaqtli and Pomacha, who will stay back with you for protection."

"Stay back?" Atoyaqtli scoffs uneasily. He glances at the looming walls of Pichaqta, then looks back to the Sanqo princess. "And what happens if you don't come out?"

"That's exactly why you need to stay," Walumaq replies. "If something happens to us, someone has to be there to help. Someone has to be able to come in to interfere should this take a turn for the worse, or to warn others and seek reinforcements."

"And what about you?" Pomacha, who rarely speaks, interjects. "We were tasked with protecting you, not... him." He gestures toward Upachu. "Siunqi entrusted us with your safety."

"And I'm asking you to do this for my safety," Walumaq counters resolutely. "If Upachu stays behind, I want someone I can trust to protect him. If things go wrong inside, you'll be our only hope."

Pomacha's jaw tightens, but he doesn't argue further. Atoyaqtli shifts uneasily, exchanging a glance with Pomacha before nodding in reluctant agreement. "We'll keep him safe," he says, though making it clear he'd rather be anywhere else.

Upachu's lips press into a thin line, his pride battling with the logic of her words. Finally, after looking to me for solace—and, to his dismay, not receiving much more than a consolatory glance—he sighs, waving a hand dismissively. "Fine. But don't think for a moment I'm going to sit around twiddling my thumbs. If things go bad, I'll find a way to make myself useful."