Revolutions

157 - Legido

"Not. A word."

Landera whispers her command and places her pointer finger across her lips. You wouldn't speak anyway if you could; you're too stunned for words. Is that really her?

Though she still wears her disguise as Lander, the fleeting familiarity of her face in the dim light stops your breath. She's changed—hair shorter, clothes patched and roughened like a mercenary's, her frame leaner than before. But it's the unmistakable fire in her eyes that gives her away.

She doesn't give you time to process. Her hand releases your mouth, but her grip finds your arm. Tight. Inescapable.

"Do you have any idea how close you just came to getting caught?" she hisses, her voice barely audible over the blood pounding in your ears.

You glance back at the chest. So close. Inches away. Its lacquered surface gleams in the torchlight, practically urging you to return. What was she doing here? How did she find me? The questions swirl, but none reach your lips.

"I—"

"Quiet." Her hand flashes up again, cutting off your protest as a faint murmur drifts from the corridor. Landera stiffens, her eyes narrowing as she glances toward the sound. You hear it too: boots on stone, armor clinking. Guards.

The sound draws closer. Her grip on your arm tightens as she pulls you back into the shadows of an alcove. You resist for half a second, your gaze darting back to the chest—the object that has consumed your thoughts for days. The object that Xiatli had abandoned so casually, as though it was worthless except for the amulet it once held. But it's still here. Could it be that Criato—and perhaps, Ulloa, too—had treated it differently, seeing something of interest in it?

"What's your plan?" you whisper, sounding more biting than you intended. "To run? That chest could hold everything we need to stop them—"

"Or nothing." Her retort is immediate, her expression hard. "You think there are secrets just sitting in an unlocked box, waiting for you? You think you'll survive long enough to find out?"

You feel the anger sparking in your chest. "What are you even doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she snaps. "I didn't come to save your skin. But I see that I came in time to stop you from getting us all killed."

Before you can respond, a faint voice echoes down the hall, too distant to make out the words. Landera stiffens, pulling you closer into the shadows. Iker squeezes into the alcove beside you. He's silent, as he always is, but you can feel the unease radiating off him—his shoulders tense, his wide eyes darting between you and Landera in alarm.

The guards' footsteps grow louder. Three of them, by the sound of it. As they near, their voices become more distinct.

"Criato wants it examined before we leave," one says, sounding almost bored. "Says he saw something. Always sees something."

"Sure he's not just losing it?" another mutters. "It's a box of junk, just like the others. The Great Xiatli already got what He needed from it."

"Not for us to decide. Keep moving."

The voices fade, the sound of boots retreating. Landera exhales sharply, though the relief is fleeting. She turns to you, her expression grim.

"There. Happy?" she whispers. "Now we know it's not important enough for him to guard it properly."

You shake your head, the frustration boiling over. "You don't get it. He saw something. They said that. If Criato thinks—"

"If Criato thinks it's important," she says, cutting you off, "he'll still have it tomorrow. And the day after that. Do you have any idea what he'd do to you if he caught you here? To all of us?"