The journey to Cayocan (part 2 Updated)

A current section of my story, It’s a draft. Set in an ancient Mesoamerica world.

Xochi tapped her chin and teased, “Well, I don’t know about modest. You didn’t pay them back like you said you would, right?”

Tezca deadpanned, “Like you can talk.”

A beat passed, then his tone softened, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Don’t worry—I’ll pay them back… eventually.”

Xochi giggled, leaning closer. “This brings back memories, huh?”

Tezca eased back against the wooden support beam, letting the past roll over him. “Oh yeah. We were always getting chased in those streets.”

Her eyes lit up. “That reminds me.”

She dug into her bag, arm hidden, then suddenly dropped to one knee in front of him. A ripe mango appeared in her palm, offered with a grin.

For a moment, Tezca just blinked. Something flickered across his eyes before he accepted it. “What’s with all this nostalgia?” he murmured, rolling the fruit in his hand.

“Now we’re even,” Xochi said, laughing as she turned back to her bag. She tossed another fruit at Renzo. “Don’t worry, I got you one too.”

Renzo caught it with one hand, raising a brow. “Wow. Generous.”

He barely had a chance to take a bite before the vireoco pounced, tiny hands grabbing for the flesh.

“Hey! Get your grubby paws off!” Renzo barked, twisting as the monkey scrambled up his shoulder with a stolen chunk.

Xochi snorted. “Guess he likes you.”

“Yeah? Then you can have him back,” Renzo grumbled, swiping mango juice from his cheek.

Tezca chuckled under his breath, still turning his fruit over. His gaze narrowed. “Where did you get these?”

“Bought them off an old salesman,” Xochi replied casually. “Beard full of beads—like he was hiding jewelry in there.”

Tezca’s brows knit together.

“Why? What’s wrong?” she asked.

He chuckled. “I thought they looked familiar.”

“Huh?”

He tucked the mango away and rose, brushing his hands on his trousers. “Forget it. Let’s move.”

The monkey dropped from Renzo’s shoulder with sticky fingers and trotted after them.

They emerged from beneath the bridge, stretching their legs as they walked. Tezca kept a close eye on Xochi—he knew her wandering gaze all too well. The lively streets pulled her in, fragrant scents drifting through the air, merchants calling out their wares. Her fingers twitched as if tempted to snatch something from a passing stall. He gave her a nudge.

“Focus.”

She pouted. “I wasn’t gonna do anything.”

The vireoco smacked its lips, mimicking her whine.

Renzo groaned. “Great. Now it’s learning from you.”

Before long, the grand, boisterous stable came into view. Constructed of sturdy hardwood with a straw roof painted in vibrant colors, it stood like a beacon for travelers. Merchants and riders gathered around its perimeter, their voices and laughter spilling into the street.

Tezca led the way through a beaded curtain into a room that felt part bar, part waiting hall. The air was rich with the scent of hay and roasted maize. Lanterns swayed slightly from the rafters, their glow catching on mugs and worn faces as groups swapped tales of the road. Beyond a thick door, the low rumble of animals hinted at the heart of the stable.

At the counter stood a man broad as an ox, his coppery-brown skin marked by a curved scar that swept from cheekbone to jaw. His black hair was pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck, the strands wiry and sun-touched. His dark eyes carried weight—tired but kind. There was no menace in his presence, only quiet authority earned by years of work.

Before Tezca could speak, the man’s gaze slid downward. His expression sharpened in surprise, then softened into something near fondness.

“…Well, I’ll be damned.” His voice rumbled deep. “Chico?”

The Vireoco perked, mid-scratch, then chirped in recognition. With a quick leap it landed on the counter and scrambled up the man’s chest, pawing at his scar with small, eager hands.

The man’s laugh boomed, hearty enough to draw a few glances from nearby tables. “You little thief! Haven’t seen you in—spirits, must be three, four years. Thought you’d run off for good.” He ruffled the monkey’s fur with a practiced ease, then slipped a clay bowl from under the counter, filled it with chopped fruit and nuts, and set it down.

Chico dove in, cheeks puffing with stolen treasures.

Renzo rubbed the side of his head where hair had been yanked earlier. “Figures. First chance he gets, he trades us in for better food.”

“Don’t take it personal,” the man chuckled, sliding the bowl closer. “Chico’s always been like that—eats like he owns the place. Where’d you find him?”

“Found us, more like,” Renzo muttered. “Climbed out of the trees and never left.”

Xochi leaned on the counter, chin in hand. “So his name’s Chico. Could’ve told us that earlier,” she said to the monkey, who ignored her, shoving a fig into his mouth.

The man finally turned his attention to Tezca. “Alright then. What are you looking for?”

“I need a ride to Cayocan,” Tezca said.

The man’s brows lifted. “You and half the folk that come through here. Might be a while before something opens.”

Tezca tilted his head, resting one hand on the counter. He let the silence stretch a beat too long before his lips curled. With a slow lift of his finger, he pointed toward the far door.

“We want the Aqualith.”

The words dropped like a stone, daring and sharp.

The man blinked once, then barked into roaring laughter that rattled the glasses behind him. He slapped the counter hard enough to jostle Chico, who squeaked and stuffed another nut in his mouth like nothing had happened.

“Ha! Bold as brass. I like your courage, kid.” He shook his head, still chuckling as he wiped the corner of his eye. “If you’re serious, then follow me.”

He turned, pushing open the heavy door. Hinges groaned, the sound spilling into the chatter-filled room as the warm air shifted, carrying with it the musk of hay and animals.

The group started after him, but Xochi lingered by the counter. She crouched low, her face close to Chico’s.

“Don’t eat too much, you’ll miss me,” she pouted.

The monkey looked at her with wide, shiny eyes, a piece of fruit halfway to its mouth. For a moment, it seemed to hesitate. Then, with exaggerated slowness, it raised its tiny hand and gave a little wave—still chewing as it turned back to the bowl.

Xochi’s pout cracked into a laugh. “Figures. Food always wins with you.”

Renzo snorted, and even Tezca’s lips twitched faintly before he jerked his head toward the door.

Together, they stepped into the stables, leaving Chico behind in the glow of lantern-light, happily rummaging through his feast.

Inside, the air thickened with the scents of hay, damp earth, and animal musk. Rows of stalls stretched along the wide chamber, each housing a creature that looked plucked from legend—sleek bodies, patterned coats, horns that gleamed faintly in the lantern light. Handlers moved quietly among them, brushing coats and fastening harnesses, their voices kept low, almost reverent. The layered chorus of clicks, trills, and heavy snorts filled the stable, then dwindled as the trio was led toward a narrow staircase winding deeper underground.

The wooden steps creaked beneath their weight. Lanterns swung on the walls, stretching their shadows long. The stairwell echoed with every footfall, while faint drafts carried the roar of water swelling somewhere below. The sound grew louder with each step—rushing, slapping against stone, spray whispering through cracks in the walls.

Renzo cast a wary glance down the steep descent, his mouth twisting into a half-grin. “Tezca, tell me again this is safe.”

“Safe?” Tezca smirked, bumping Renzo’s shoulder. “Of course it is. What, afraid of a little ride?”

Renzo frowned, feigning casual. “I’m just saying—it looks sketchy.”

That was all Xochi needed. She hunched her shoulders, flapped her elbows, and let out an obnoxious squawk. “Cawwwwk! Careful, Tezca—we’ve got ourselves a nervous rooster!”

Renzo’s face flushed. “That’s not even the right bird!”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shot back, hopping ahead with another cluck, her sandals stomping theatrically against the wood.

Tezca barked out a laugh, covering his mouth to muffle the echo. “She’s not wrong, though—you sound nervous.”

Renzo dragged a palm down his face. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

The stablemaster slowed just enough to glance back, scarred cheek catching the lantern glow. His expression hovered between stern and amused. “You lot always carry on like this?”

“Always,” Tezca said without hesitation, grinning.

Xochi fell back into step beside him, her smirk smug but quiet this time.

The man shook his head, muttering something under his breath, though the faint curve of his mouth betrayed the smile he tried to hide.

Tezca straightened, letting his tone shift. He gestured toward a handler brushing down a horned beast in the stalls above. “I heard you treat your animals well. That true?”

The man’s dark hair slipped across his scarred cheek as he nodded once. “You heard right. These creatures are our livelihood—without them, there’s no business.” His coppery-brown skin caught the glow of a lantern as he swept a hand toward the rows of stalls. “We treat them like kings, because they treat us like partners. They don’t serve—they choose.”

His words held weight, though his voice stayed easy. He patted the railing beside him, almost absent, like a priest at an altar.

Renzo tilted his head, thoughtful. “So… they could just leave if they wanted?”

The man shrugged. “If the bond’s weak, yes. But when it isn’t…” His eyes brightened with pride as he spread his hands wide. “They’ll follow you through storm, fire, or worse—and trust you to bring them back.”

Xochi glanced around the dim stairwell, her tone gentler. “That takes more than training.”

The man hummed in agreement—then stopped abruptly.

Xochi nearly bumped into him. “What’s wrong?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, mock-sheepish. “Almost forgot the important part. You can pay, right?” His eyes crinkled with teasing.

Tezca rifled through his pouch, flashing the glint of coins. “Yeah. Don’t worry—we’re covered.”

The man’s serious look cracked into a grin. “Good. Then let’s ride.” He slapped the wall beside him, the sound booming down the stairwell before he strode on.

At the bottom, the staircase opened onto a wide wooden platform jutting over a roaring river. The air was damp and alive, spray catching in their hair as the water surged beneath. The planks groaned underfoot, weathered but solid. At the far end, a cavernous opening yawned like a natural dock, waiting to reveal what lay beyond.

Planting his boots, the man lifted two fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle. The sound pierced the thunder of the river, carrying out into the dark.

The water over the cavern mouth shivered, ripples spreading in widening rings. Then the river surged, slapping hard against stone as something massive shifted below.

With a sudden swell, a colossal fish broke the surface. Scales of silver and deep ocean blue flashed in the lantern light, each ripple scattering shards of color across the dark cavern walls. Its long, elegant fins fanned like banners in the air, while a pair of whisker-like tendrils drifted from its mouth, curling with each breath. Two enormous eyes regarded them—calm, unblinking, as if weighing their worth. Only then did the pale green saddle strapped across its back become clear, broad and sturdy, fitted for riders bold enough to climb aboard.

Xochi and Renzo froze where they stood, their jaws slack.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” the stablemaster exclaimed, patting the creature’s flank. The fish responded with a low, resonant hum, the sound vibrating through the platform beneath their feet.

“Beautiful?” Tezca’s grin spread wide. “She’s perfect.”

The man puffed up proudly. “Azula chose me years ago, told me her name. Each creature bonds to one rider—and only one. She and I have conquered rapids, storms, and rivers so wild they tried to swallow us whole. And now…” He swept his arms out wide in grand flourish. “Ohtli the Great will be your captain!”

Renzo barked a laugh, his nerves forgotten. “I like this guy already.”

“Of course you do,” Xochi said, smirking. “Takes one idiot to recognize another.”

Renzo turned on her with mock offense. “At least I’m a tall idiot. What’s your excuse, gremlin?”

Her eyes narrowed, sleeves rolling. “Say that again, pig-boy, and you’re swimming home.”

Their bickering trailed behind as Tezca stepped forward, offering his hand. “Tezca,” he introduced simply. “That’s my sister, Xochi. And the tall moron is Renzo.”

“Hey!” Renzo snapped, but Ohtli only laughed, shaking Tezca’s hand with a firm grip.

“You’re a lively bunch,” Ohtli said, clearly amused. He slapped Azula’s side with a rhythmic pat, and the creature dipped her head as if bowing. “She’s ready.”

The saddle curved broad across Azula’s back, the straps marked with footholds polished smooth from years of use. Ohtli climbed up front in one fluid motion, settling with the ease of a man born to the river.

“Come on, then!” he called over his shoulder. “The river won’t wait!”

Tezca swung up next, sliding easily into the second spot. Xochi scrambled after him, her arms immediately wrapping around his waist, her laughter bright and unrestrained.

“Don’t squeeze too tight,” Tezca muttered, though he didn’t pry her off.

“I’ll do what I want,” she shot back, grinning against his shoulder.

Renzo climbed last, taking his time. He tested every foothold twice before swinging into place, one hand clamped firmly around a curved horn at the saddle’s side. His knuckles whitened, but his grin was irrepressible.

“Biggest fish I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, awe threading through his voice.

Azula shifted beneath them, her massive body rolling with contained power, and the platform groaned in response. Spray misted over them, cool and electric, as the river’s roar swallowed the cavern whole.

Ohtli twisted back, eyes gleaming. “Hold on tight! Once she moves, you’ll never look at rivers the same way again.”

Azula’s back fin carved through the river in steady sweeps, each movement building momentum until the water frothed white in her wake. Her massive body rolled with power, and every thrust sent a shiver through the saddle. With one explosive surge, she lunged forward. Spray erupted around them, arching into the air before drenching the riders in a cool mist that clung to their skin and hair.

Ohtli’s laughter boomed so loud that it carried over the river’s roar. Renzo couldn’t help but chuckle too, though his came out half-thrill, half-nerves. Xochi whooped with exhilaration, her grin stretching wide, while Tezca sat composed—expression calm, though the faint pull at the corner of his mouth betrayed his quiet excitement.

The current swept them forward, fast but steady. Sunlight spilled down through the canopy, breaking into shards of gold that danced across the surface of the water. The river widened into long, glimmering stretches where fish darted like streaks of silver beneath the surface. Every now and then, trees leaned close, their roots gnarled into the banks, their branches trailing over the water like fingers reaching down to touch it. Bright blossoms rode the breeze and drifted onto the river, spinning lazily in their path before vanishing into the froth of Azula’s wake.

For a heartbeat, it felt serene—an impossible stillness wrapped in speed.

Then the river began to climb.

At first, the shift was subtle, a tilt so slight it might have been imagined. But the incline sharpened quickly, and the water itself seemed to defy gravity, surging uphill against the mountainside. Renzo blinked hard and shot Xochi a wide-eyed look. She only stared back, equally baffled.

Ohtli’s grin widened, his scar catching the sun.

Tezca’s fingers tightened around the horn. So this is it.

“Hold tight!” Ohtli bellowed, delight thick in his voice.

Azula surged upward, her scales flashing with every muscle that rippled beneath. The river raged against her, slamming whitewater across her body, but she cut through it like a blade. The saddle shuddered under the strain. Xochi clung to her brother so fiercely he swore his ribs might crack.

Then, with one final, punishing drive—Azula burst free.

The river vanished beneath them. For a breathless instant, they were suspended in open sky.

Wind tore at their hair and clothes, thousands of meters of open sky yawning below. Xochi’s scream ripped out first, Renzo’s followed with a strangled laugh-scream hybrid, and Tezca’s face knotted into a grimace so sharp it looked painful. Ohtli? He just threw his head back and laughed like a madman.

And then—they plummeted.

The world tilted into freefall, the platform, the mountain, everything gone as the ground rushed up to meet them. Renzo shrieked, Xochi’s nails dug into Tezca’s stomach, and Tezca’s whole body locked stiff as stone.

At the last instant, Azula’s fins unfurled into vast, glimmering wings. They snapped wide, catching the air with a bone-jarring pull. The plunge halted, swinging them into a gentle glide.

Silence fell, broken only by the steady beat of her wings. The floating islands loomed closer on the horizon, their vast shadows crawling across the sky.

Tezca finally exhaled. “Even knowing what was coming—that still got me.”

“You knew?!” Xochi shouted, smacking his back. “And you didn’t say anything?!”

Renzo’s voice cracked between outrage and relief. “I thought we were dead! I was ready to meet my ancestors!”

Tezca’s grin broke loose. “Wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You monster!” Xochi barked.

“You lunatic,” Renzo wheezed, clutching the horn like his life still depended on it.

The rush of the ascent faded, leaving only the open sky and the sound of wind whistling past their ears. Azula’s wings stretched wide, gliding steady as sails as she carried them forward with effortless grace. The jungle below blurred into a rolling carpet of green, threaded with flashes of silver rivers that caught the sunlight like blades. Far above, scattered clouds drifted lazily, so close it felt like they could reach out and touch them.

“Now that,” Ohtli called over his shoulder with a grin, “is a view worth holding your breath for. Ever seen anything like it?”

“Not even close,” Tezca said, voice low, though his eyes never left the sweep of Azula’s wings.

Xochi leaned sideways, her hair lashing across her face as she peered down at the dizzying drop. “It doesn’t even feel real…” she breathed, eyes wide with wonder.

Renzo snorted, knuckles clenched around the horn. “Oh, it’s real. Just ask the ground when we hit it.”

Ohtli barked a laugh, shaking his head. “He’s not wrong. The north’s got even worse drops—and better views. You’ll see soon enough.”

“You’ve been north before?” Xochi called, brushing wind from her eyes.

“Plenty of times. But never gets old,” Ohtli answered, his tone brimming with pride. “Is this your first run?”

“Yep,” she said, nudging her brother’s arm. “We’re headed for the floating islands.”

At that, Ohtli’s smile turned almost secretive. “Ah. Then brace yourselves. The islands aren’t just pretty—they breathe. You’ll know what I mean when you’re there.”

Tezca finally spoke, a quiet “Good,” his words stripped of Ohtli’s grandeur but carrying their own steady weight.

Renzo leaned forward, grinning. “Good? That’s all you’ve got? Man, we’ve been here less than a week and I already want to live here forever. Rivers that climb mountains, fish with wings—come on, this place is insane!”

Xochi giggled, shaking her head, while Tezca gave nothing more than a soft grunt.

“You’re adapting quick,” Ohtli observed, scratching at his chin. “Quicker than most.”

Tezca’s eyes dropped to the jungle far below, his expression softening. “It feels familiar. Like home.”

“Home?” Ohtli prodded gently. “Where’s that?”

“Amarubia,” Tezca said, lifting his gaze again. “My sister and I are from a village there.”

Ohtli’s grin eased into something more respectful. “Amarubia. I’ve heard it’s beautiful.”

“It really is,” Tezca murmured.

For a moment, he wasn’t on Azula’s back but standing in his village again—the smell of damp earth after rain, the glow of lanterns at night, the familiar chorus of crickets in the fields. A small smile tugged at his lips as the memory lingered, half bittersweet, half grounding.

Xochi, still leaning against him, tilted her head to catch his face in profile. The wind tugged at her hair, but she saw it—his faraway look, the small, unguarded smile. Her own grin softened, just for a heartbeat, before she looked back down at the rushing green.

Back at the dorms, Zora slung her bag over her shoulder, the leather creaking softly as it settled against her hip. The corridors lay hushed, sunlight striping across the stone floor where a few distant voices echoed. Most students were out sharpening blades or sleeping off the morning’s drills, leaving the place with a hollow stillness Zora found almost pleasant.

She was a step from the doorway when a sharp voice cut through the quiet.

“Where’s Tzai?”

Zora stopped.

Down the hall, a girl with tight braids and a fighter’s build stood rigid, arms crossed, her glare fixed on the boy beside her. Her voice had the bite of someone who’d been waiting far too long.

“He was supposed to spar with me today!”

The boy shifted his weight with a weary sigh. “Didn’t he tell you? He’s off somewhere with that… girl.”

Zora’s grip on her bag strap tightened.

That girl. Like she doesn’t even deserve a name.

The boy snapped his fingers, squinting as if digging through his memory. “The odd one—always scribbling in that notebook, muttering about enchantments… glasses… what’s her name again?”

His eyes lit with recognition. “Izel. That’s it.”

The girl gave a short, derisive laugh. “You mean the weirdo in our class?”

“Yeah. Her.”

Zora drew a breath through her nose, expression cool, though her fingers flexed against the strap.

“And where are they going?” the girl pressed, irritation sharpening her words.

The boy tapped his chin, then snapped again as if it had just returned to him. “Right—one of the floating islands.”

That made Zora tilt her head, just slightly.

A floating island? Not exactly a place for casual company.

The girl huffed, throwing up her hands. “Why with her, of all people? Whatever.” She spun on her heel and stormed down the corridor, muttering curses under her breath.

Silence returned, broken only by the boy’s exhale as he wandered off the other way.

Zora lingered a heartbeat longer.

From what I’ve heard, getting to the floating islands is rare. And yet…

Clicking her tongue, she shook the thought loose. She wasn’t about to waste her day chasing after rumors.

The dorm door gave way to the bustle of the streets outside—vendors calling, carts rolling, students weaving through crowds. Zora threaded through it all, cutting down a narrow side path until the noise dimmed behind her.

At the jungle’s edge, she stopped, humming absently as she slipped on her archery gloves. Energy shimmered at her fingertips, coalescing into the liquid curve of a bow—pink and translucent, its surface rippling like molten glass. It thrummed faintly in her grasp, alive with her Nahualli’s pulse, as she stepped into the trees.

Meanwhile, in Tezca’s dorm, silence reigned—a rare, precious moment of peace. Everyone else was out, leaving Locaris alone with his sacred duty. He flexed his fingers inside his bright pink cleaning gloves, symbols of both authority and devotion. Today, the dorm would shine.

The bathroom was already scrubbed to perfection, the kitchen gleaming like polished glass. Only one task remained: the rooms.

He started with Tezca’s.

Pushing open the door, Locaris scanned the space. The desk held only an empty wooden bowl, the bed half-made with the blanket folded back. Still neat—tidy enough to earn a small, satisfied nod.

“Finally, someone civilized,” he muttered, closing the door with a crisp, approving click.

He moved to the next room—Renzo’s—but stopped with his hand hovering over the knob. His expression softened.

“Best not. Renzo’s clear about his room being off-limits.”

Decision made, he stepped past without another glance.

That left Xochi’s.

With reluctant resolve, he eased the door open. The moment it cracked, a wave of despair hit him.

Chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

Clothes blanketed the floor in layers. Books leaned in precarious towers, threatening collapse at the faintest breath. The desk groaned beneath a mountain of bowls and plates—an engineering miracle held together by sheer defiance of physics. In the corner, her spear slumped against the bedframe, as if even it had surrendered.

Locaris froze in the doorway, jaw slack, mind blank. Then, slowly, deliberately, he closed the door.

“Some fights aren’t worth picking,” he murmured, peeling off his pink gloves as he walked away.

⸻

After some time had passed, the floating islands loomed much closer, their massive silhouettes suspended in the air like ancient sentinels. As Azula continued her descent, a subtle distortion rippled through the atmosphere. It was almost imperceptible—just a faint refraction that made the edges of clouds waver, as though glimpsed through warped glass.

Ohtli’s grin widened. “We’re here.” His voice carried a calm certainty that only sharpened the others’ confusion.

As they pierced the distortion, a tingling sensation swept over their skin, like a wave of static brushing against them. Then the world shifted. The once-blue sky blazed gold, clouds curling into spirals of soft pink that drifted lazily across the heavens. The air itself felt heavier, alive, thick with Nahualli—its hum prickling their bones. Below, the jungle unfurled in dazzling hues: trees with sapphire-glass leaves catching the golden light, vines pulsing faintly as though carrying rivers of energy, and flowers that shimmered between violet and silver when the wind touched them.

Tezca narrowed his eyes, scanning everything as if cataloging each detail. His wonder was careful, measured, like he wanted to understand the logic buried inside the spectacle.

Beside him, Xochi leaned forward over Azula’s side, hair whipping back in the wind. “No way… this feels like a dream I forgot I had,” she breathed, her smile too wide to hide.

Renzo rubbed his eyes, squinting at the glowing river. “A dream? More like a fever, you sure we’re not hallucinating, Ohtli?”

Their eyes inevitably lifted toward the floating islands, now revealed in their magnificence—vast crowns of stone and greenery, hung in the heavens with the stillness of gods.

Ohtli pointed suddenly at the turquoise waters below. “Look there! That’s the Celestial Current.”

Azula banked lower, gliding over the river’s radiant surface. Fish shimmered inside the current, scales flashing like shards of light. For a long moment, no one spoke; the sheer abruptness of the transformation stole the words from them.

Then Ohtli gave Azula a firm pat. “Brace yourselves.”

With a powerful tuck of her wings, she dove. Wind roared past, and the river surged upward to meet them before they slammed into its depths, water exploding outward in a blinding spray. Submerged, Azula swam with effortless strength, her body cutting through the luminous current like it was her natural domain.

Tezca’s voice came low, almost breathless. “So… this is the Celestial Current?”

Ohtli turned with a knowing smile. “That’s right. But this is only the starting channel.”

Tezca raised an eyebrow. “Starting channel?”

Xochi gasped, tugging his arm and pointing ahead. “Look!”

The river curved upward. First a strange rise, then an impossible arc, lifting into the sky as though gravity had lost its claim. Water streamed cleanly from the earth, peeling free of its banks, and carried on without pause. It split into multiple branches, weaving and spiraling above them until it became a vast lattice of glowing rivers suspended in the air. Fish darted through those skyborne waters as though it were the most natural thing in the world, scattering prisms of color that rained faintly down in a mist cool against their skin.

Renzo tipped his head back, staring. “Floating rivers, flying fish… yeah, sure. Totally normal. Next thing I know, the trees’ll start singing.”

Xochi laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Admit it—you love this.”

He didn’t answer, but the wide grin plastered on his mouth betrayed him.

Tezca, though, stayed silent, his gaze fixed on the spiraling currents above. Something about it clawed at the edge of memory—old stories whispered back home of rivers that tied heaven to earth, paths only the gods could walk. The sight filled him with equal parts awe and unease, like he’d stepped inside a myth that wasn’t meant for mortals.

Guided by the flowing waters, Azula pressed forward, each winding twist drawing them closer to a city that glimmered faintly in the distance. Their destination: Cayocan.

They arrived at a quiet side port, where a wooden dock nestled against the glowing river. Azula glided to a halt, her long body cutting the water with ease before bumping gently against the planks. The surface rippled as she stilled, fins flexing lazily.

Tezca lingered by her side, pressing a hand against her slick scales.

“Thank you.”

A deep, pleased vibration hummed through her body, rolling into the water like a purr.

He smirked, flicking his gaze toward Ohtli.

“You too.”

Renzo stumbled off after Xochi, stretching his legs with a groan.

“Finally. Land. Blessed, beautiful land.”

He patted the dock beneath his sandals, as if to make sure it was real.

Xochi snorted.

“You’re so dramatic.”

Renzo straightened, pointing at her.

“Spend an hour clinging to a giant fish’s back, then tell me I’m dramatic.”

She only stuck her tongue out in reply, already turning her focus to the staircase that climbed into the city.

Ohtli fell into step with them as they started upward.

“How long will you be?”

Tezca scratched his chin.

“Probably all day. That a problem?”

“Not at all.” Ohtli chuckled, his eyes lifting with a kind of old hunger. “It’s been months since I walked Cayocan’s streets. I’ve got some catching up to do.”

They climbed in silence, the sounds of water lapping against the dock fading behind them. Birdsong flitted faintly from the trees, mingling with the rustle of leaves. Then—cresting the final step—the city unfolded.

Cayocan stretched wide before them.

The streets ran in dark basalt stone, their muted tones thrown into relief by walls of white granite and cream travertine, buildings sturdy yet elegant beneath the jungle’s weight. Sapphire vines spilled from balconies, while mahogany roots cracked the paving and twisted through alleyways. Teal shrubs pressed against walls, and turquoise canals wound between streets, their glow catching in the eyes of passersby.

Locals moved easily through the avenues, dressed in garments dyed in deep greens, rich browns, and bright river-blues—colors that blended with the living city around them. A few carried baskets heavy with fruit, others paused mid-conversation, laughter carrying on the breeze.

The air itself seemed thicker, richer—perfumed by flowers, damp stone, and the faint tang of riverwater.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

Ohtli drew in a deep breath, shoulders loosening.

“Hah. I knew it would hit me. No matter how many times I see it, this place never fades.”

Tezca’s gaze lingered on the seamless weave of stone and root, water and wall.

This is how every place should be. Balanced, both alive together.

His lips curved faintly, a quiet promise tugging at him.

A rustle above caught Xochi’s ear. She craned her head, eyes sparking.

“Look! They’re pink!”

High in the branches, squirrels with cotton-candy fur darted from limb to limb, their fluffy tails scattering pollen that glittered faintly in the light.

Renzo squinted up at the branches, then grinned sideways.

“Wow, pink squirrels. Guess we should thank Xochi, or we never would’ve noticed the giant fluff-balls.”

Xochi puffed her cheeks, ready to snap back—until Tezca reached over, ruffling her hair.

“You’re right, Xochi. They are pretty cool.”

And just like that her pout cracked into a grin, the argument dissolving before it began.

Further down the street, a looming shape rose above the rooftops. At first, it seemed like a beast frozen mid-charge, its silhouette vast against the pale stone and sapphire vines of the city. As they drew closer, the details sharpened into form.

The monument stood tall upon a pillar of radiant white quartz, its surface shimmering faintly in the light. Beneath it, a wide pool of obsidian reflected the statue with perfect clarity, encircled by a ring of pale stone broken by two narrow openings for passage. The plaza around it was spotless, not a leaf or stray pebble in sight—every corner kept in reverent order.

Yet the statue itself bore the weight of centuries. Carved from limestone, its once-pristine edges had been worn smooth. Scales that must have once gleamed now looked dulled, the golden feathers along its legs chipped at the edges. Even the rubies set in its eyes seemed to have lost their brilliance, dulled by time.

The creature it depicted—the Quetzarix—still carried majesty despite the fading. A hybrid of horse and dragon, its long body rippled with power, tail arched mid-swing, wings folded like coiled potential. It looked ready to leap into the sky, even as time dragged it down.

Renzo let out a low whistle.

“That looks like the beast Lucián rode…”

Tezca studied the towering figure, brow furrowing.

“Yeah… but bigger. It’s called a Quetzarix, right?” His eyes shifted to Ohtli.

“That’s right.” Ohtli’s nod came slow. “They have a deep history here.”

Xochi lingered on the sight, her head tilting slightly.

“Strange… everything around it looks untouched, cared for. But the statue itself… it feels abandoned.”

For a moment, Ohtli didn’t answer. His gaze dropped, his shoulders shifting with a subtle weight. When he finally spoke, his voice carried hesitation, the faintest tremor of sorrow.

“They were once loved…” His words faltered, lips pressing together. “But now…”

Silence settled over the group. They exchanged quiet glances, none daring to press further. Tezca’s eyes lingered on Ohtli, catching the shadow in his expression, before he turned back to the weathered monument.

The words, unfinished as they were, clung to them like an echo.

They left the monument behind, their steps carrying them deeper into the heart of Cayocan. The city did not lessen in beauty—it grew richer. Nature spilled across every surface: vines curling around balconies, blossoms sprouting from cracks in the stone, and small streams weaving through the streets like veins of living crystal. The air was alive with scent and color, and yet, beneath all that abundance, something new stirred.

A hush rippled through the crowd ahead. Shadows fell across the street, not the broken patchwork of passing clouds, but broad strokes that shifted as one. Instinctively, their gazes lifted.

It seized them.

Above the rooftops, the sky was not sky at all, but a living river. The celestial current coursed through the heavens, vast ribbons of light twisting and braiding toward the city’s center. It wasn’t wild—it bent with intention, arching gracefully around towers that reached higher than any Tezca or Xochi had ever seen.

Locals walked beneath it without pause, their woven garments brushing past as if nothing were amiss. A musician leaned against a shaded wall, playing a wooden flute; the melody wound through the streets, soft and wistful, carried by the current itself.

Tezca slowed, staring upward, his chest tightening with awe. Xochi’s mouth parted, her eyes shimmering with reflected light.

And upon those glowing bands, boats drifted—slender vessels carved from pale whitewood, their edges plated in gold that gleamed with the current’s glow. The figures aboard were robed in white and gold, distant and faceless, gliding silently as though part of the heavens themselves.

“Spirits above…” Xochi whispered.

Renzo tilted his head back, voice low.

“The current’s not free at all. See how it curls around the towers? It’s as if the city holds it on a leash.”

Ohtli’s breath left him in a long, quiet exhale. His expression carried no smile this time.

“This city…” He paused, searching for the word. “It is unlike any other.”

The others turned to him, but he had already straightened, the weight in his eyes shuttered away.

“I’ll leave you here. You’ll find your own path easily enough.”

His sudden change startled them.

“You’re leaving?” Tezca asked.

Ohtli hesitated, gaze slipping once more to the sky, as though something there troubled him. Then, with the faintest smile that did not touch his eyes, he nodded.

“I have my own matters to see to.”

The crowd swallowed him as he turned.

Tezca raised a hand.

“Until later, then.”

“See you,” Xochi said softly.

Renzo cupped his hands and called out with full lungs.

“Safe travels!”

Ohtli lifted one hand in farewell, but his shoulders carried a heaviness the gesture could not disguise. Soon he was gone, his form lost among the locals and the drifting sound of the flute.

The three of them lingered, eyes still drawn to the sky where the glowing rivers flowed.

The streets grew livelier as they pressed on—people spilling out of shops, their chatter weaving into the layered hum of the city.

Then Xochi stopped dead in her tracks.

Her eyes had fixed on a storefront, its wide glass panes revealing a treasure trove of relics within. The wooden sign swaying above the entrance read simply: Antique Shop. But it wasn’t the sign that held her.

Mounted on the far wall inside, a macuahuitl gleamed faintly in the dim light. Its obsidian blades caught the sun through the glass, glinting like teeth.

Without a word, she latched onto Tezca’s wrist with one hand and Renzo’s with the other, tugging them both toward the door.

The bell above chimed as the creaky door swung open. A wave of scents—aged wood, brittle parchment, faint oil—rolled over them, thick and warm, as though the air itself carried centuries. Shafts of sunlight cut through the dusty windows, scattering gold across rows of shelves and cabinets. A single candle flickered atop the counter, its small flame battling the dimness.

A young woman lounged behind the counter, hair falling loose, book in hand, feet propped carelessly on the desk. She turned a page lazily, sparing the newcomers the briefest glance before letting her eyes sink back into the lines.

To Renzo, that was all the invitation he needed.

Before Tezca could even sigh, Renzo was already leaning against the counter, forearms resting on the wood.

“Hey,” he drawled. “What’s up with you?”

The woman looked up this time, brow lifting ever so slightly.

“What’d ya mean?”

Renzo’s grin slid into place as he stroked his chin.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you’re pretending not to notice. This warm brown complexion has a way of pulling eyes.”

Tezca gave a sharp snicker, shaking his head.

The young woman let her book drop slightly, her expression caught somewhere between puzzled and amused.

“Bold assumption. I was only wondering if you were lost.”

Behind them, Xochi, who had already wandered to a nearby table of trinkets, muffled a laugh into her hand.

Renzo pushed himself upright, undeterred.

“As funny as that is… you’re right. We are looking for something.” His grin widened, unabashed. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to reach the floating islands, would you?”

At that, she shut her book with a soft thump and set it aside. Chin propped on her palm:

“Hmm… maybe. But if you want an answer, you’ll have to buy something first.”

Renzo arched a brow.

“That seems unfair. What if I just charm the answer out of you instead?”

She scoffed.

“Pfft. And how would you do that?”

Renzo’s grin spread.

“Simple. If I make you smile, you tell me for free.”

She considered, then rolled her eyes.

“Fine. Try.”

“Appreciated,” he said smoothly.

While Renzo leaned closer to the counter, Xochi had already drifted toward the macuahuitl on the wall. She stood there transfixed, her fingers brushing the edge of an obsidian blade. Tezca, glancing over, caught the look in her eye before turning back to the shelves. He pulled down a timeworn book and blew dust from its cover.

Meanwhile, Renzo drummed his fingers on the counter.

“So what’s your name?”

“Tavi,” she replied calmly.

“Tavi, huh? Nice name.” He jabbed a thumb at his chest. “Renzo. Pleasure’s mine.”

Tavi gave the slightest nod, watching him with patient curiosity.

Renzo leaned in, palms spread on the counter.

“I caught a glimpse of your smile earlier,” he said, tilting his head. “And I must admit…” His gaze drifted around the shop before returning to her. “This place is impressive.”

Then, without warning, he gently caught her hands between his own, engulfing them.

“I can feel the rich Nahualli oozing from these relics. However… nothing compares to your enchanting smile.”

For a heartbeat she resisted, lips pressing flat. Then the corner tugged despite her. She lifted her hands to her face to hide it, but Renzo didn’t release her, grinning like a fool at his own triumph.

Tavi laughed under her breath.

“Fine. You win. I’ll tell you.”

“Great!” Renzo crowed.

Tezca strolled over, tone teasing.

“Nice to see you finally contributing to our journey.”

Renzo jerked back with mock offense.

“Oh, and what has Xochi done? Apart from stirring chaos?”

Before Tezca could answer, Xochi’s voice drifted from across the shop.

“I’ve made things more fun.”

Tezca shrugged.

“She’s not wrong.”

Renzo huffed but turned back to Tavi.

“So. What do we do?”

Tavi hesitated.

“If you’ve any chance of reaching Nayampak, you’ll need the Featherkeeper.”

“The who?” Xochi frowned.

“Nayampak?” Renzo echoed.

Tavi tapped a ringed finger on the counter.

“Nayampak—the great floating island. The Elder Featherkeeper, Jaztayan, is the one you’ll need. He keeps the Quetzarix feathers, oversees their trade, decides which enchantments are allowed. Anything that involves reaching the islands goes through him.”

“Why Quetzarix feathers?” Tezca asked.

“They carry wind and levitation Nahualli. Traders, enchanters, travelers—all of them covet the feathers. But they’re rare.” She pointed vaguely upward. “And without one, you’ll never make it there.”

Xochi rejoined them, arms folded.

“And where do we find this Featherkeeper?”

“Not far east,” Tavi said, stretching. “Near the old wind tower. There’s a courtyard with white stone pillars and a golden bird set into the floor. You’ll see it.”

Tezca bowed his head slightly.

“Thanks.”

But Xochi had slipped back to the macuahuitl. Her hand lingered on the wooden hilt, her forehead resting against it as if in quiet prayer.

“Xochi…” Tezca’s voice was low, warning.

“I know.” Her breath came out in a sigh. “But it’s right here. Doesn’t it remind you of—”

“Yes,” Tezca cut her off. “But we don’t have enough.”

“Maybe we could—”

“No.”

She groaned, tearing herself away with a reluctant glance.

“This sucks.”

“You could always come back for it,” Tavi offered kindly, polishing the counter.

“Yeah. If it’s still here,” Xochi muttered.

Renzo clapped his hands together.

“Alright. That’s our cue. Tavi, it’s been a pleasure.” He leaned against the counter, smirking. “When I return, I expect a warm welcome.”

Tavi chuckled.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Xochi jabbed him in the ribs as she passed.

“Enough flirting, loverboy. Let’s go.”

Renzo staggered with a dramatic cough.

“Heartless.”

“You bring it on yourself,” she shot back, pulling the door open.

Tezca shook his head as they stepped outside. The scent of old wood and relic-dust faded, replaced by the bustling air of the city. Yet when he glanced back, he caught Xochi casting one last look toward the macuahuitl.

They followed Tavi’s directions east until the street narrowed into a white stone courtyard. The place had an austere hush, as if it had been forgotten by the city around it. A towering bronze fence ringed the grounds, its bars greened with age, and the gate sagged ajar, creaking faintly whenever the breeze pushed it.

Beyond lay a squat building raised on pillars of polished quartz. The stone gleamed faintly even in shadow, giving it the air of something both sacred and heavily guarded. At its front loomed a heavy iron door, its surface rust-bitten and scarred by time, as though it had weathered centuries of visitors who weren’t welcome.

They slipped cautiously through the open gate. The crunch of gravel beneath their sandals sounded too loud in the stillness.

Renzo leaned closer, voice low. “Are you sure this is the right place, Tezca?”

“Oh, come on—look.” Tezca pointed to the cracked golden mosaic of a bird spread across the steps. “Exactly what Tavi described.”

Renzo squinted. “Yeah, but she made it sound majestic. This is more like… uhh—”

“Creepy,” Xochi cut in, arms folded.

Renzo flicked his head toward Tezca. “See? She gets it.”

“Whatever. Go knock,” Tezca said, deadpan.

“Huh? Why me?”

Tezca smirked. “I thought you were a brave hero. The mighty warrior Renzo, right?”

Renzo rubbed his chin with mock pride. “Flattered. But you’re just saying that so you don’t have to.”

Tezca didn’t bother replying, only gave him that smug look, eyes sliding away with guilty amusement.

Both of them, almost in unison, turned their gaze to Xochi. She met them with a sharp, flat, “No.”

The refusal landed like a slap—final and absolute.

Renzo blinked. “Wait, wait, hear me out. What if we all knock? Then whoever’s inside picks who gets eaten first.”

“Fine by me,” Tezca said. “You’re the biggest. They’ll go for you.”

Renzo puffed out his chest. “Nah. Too much work chewing through me. Xochi’s the quick snack.”

He yelped when her foot cracked against his shin.

Moments later they stood bunched before the iron door, Renzo still rubbing his leg. Tezca tilted his head at him, voice low. “Come on.”

Renzo raised his knuckles, and together the three of them knocked against the metal. The sound clanged harshly, rattling into the silence and then vanishing. Nothing stirred.

They hesitated, then drew back their fists to try again—

—when the slot above their heads slammed open.

A jagged voice spilled from the dark beyond. “State your business.”

“Rude,” Xochi muttered.

Tezca cleared his throat. “We seek the feather keeper, Jaztayan. Guidance to Nayampak.”

Silence pressed down, long enough that they shared uneasy glances. Then the door groaned, dragging across stone as it opened only partway.

“Enter,” the voice commanded.

They exchanged another wary look. Whoever this was had to be enormous, a brute lurking in shadow. Tezca stepped first, bracing his shoulder against the door to widen it, but it hardly gave. Xochi and Renzo slipped after him through the narrow gap.

Inside, blackness swallowed them whole. The air smelled of dust and dry wood.

A click, then the shutter flung open. Light flooded in sharp and sudden, forcing them to blink through the sting in their eyes. Dust motes drifted in the beam.

When their vision cleared, they froze.

Not a hulking guard. Not a monster.

But a small, stooped old man.

Tezca shifted back a step. Xochi arched a brow. Renzo’s mouth hung half-open.

The man’s skin was deep and woody, his long white hair spilling in tangles over his shoulders. His lips smacked dryly as he scratched his back with an absent hand. His eyes, though rimmed with age, gleamed sharp and unbothered.

He squinted at their baffled faces and grumbled, “What’s with the weird look?”

Renzo’s brow fluttered. “Oh, nothing. We just thought you were some kinda man-eating monster.”

“Mhm. Is that so.” The old man scratched his chin, voice still thick with gravel. “Guess I sound a bit… groggy in the mornings.”

Tezca tilted his head. “Morning? It’s noon.”

“Whatever time I wake up is morning,” he mumbled, half to himself.

Xochi squinted. “That’s not how it works.”

Tezca slid her a sideways look. “Like you’re any better.”

The sunlight creeping in through the shutters slowly unveiled more of the room. Renzo’s eyes drifted toward the door they’d come through—there, attached to the wood, were a set of small steps. He muttered under his breath, “Ahh, so that’s how he climbed up to the slot…”

Tezca cleared his throat. “What’s your name, elder?”

“Jaztayan.”

“Good. I thought so.” Tezca smirked faintly. “So you know why we’re here.”

The old man’s eyes crinkled as a chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Indeed. Come along. My office is less drafty.”

He shuffled them into a chamber behind him. It looked nothing like the rigid stone exterior—they were met instead with chaos. Boxes of crumbling papers leaned in unstable towers. Shelves overflowed with trinkets and cracked jars. A desk of heavy, dark mahogany sat in the middle of the mess, nearly swallowed by maps, quills, and stacks of files that hadn’t seen order in decades.

Renzo whispered to Xochi, “This guy’s desk looks like your room.”

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Jaztayan plopped into his chair, which creaked beneath him, and laced his fingers over his belly. “So. Do you have any permission from the school, or a jade?”

“Permission? Nah,” Renzo said without a beat, casual as ever.

“Well… our teacher, Locaris, recommended that we go to Nayampak,” Tezca offered.

Jaztayan squinted, scratching the side of his nose. “Locaris? Hmh. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Really? He’s pretty well-known,” Tezca pressed.

The old man gave a dismissive snort. “Ha! There are a hundred ‘well-known’ figures in this city. You’d be surprised how many of ‘em think they’re important.” He leaned forward, palms pressed together. “Now. What’s your reason?”

Before Tezca could speak, Xochi cut in, bright-eyed. “For a rare, tasty fruit!”

Renzo chimed right after, “For a mountain of precious treasure!”

Tezca pinched the bridge of his nose. “We want to explore.”

“Ah. Exploration.” Jaztayan’s smile thinned as he leaned back. “Then I’m afraid I can’t allow it.”

Renzo bristled. “What? Why not?”

“The quetzarix feathers are too important to be wasted on a few children chasing adventure.” His voice, though quiet, carried a bitterness that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Tezca caught it instantly. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

“Nothing,” Jaztayan said flatly. His gaze drifted to the clutter on his desk. “It wasn’t always like this, you know. Once upon a time, anyone could make the journey to Nayampak.”

Xochi tilted her head. “What changed?”

He sighed through his nose, taking a slow sip of water before speaking. “The quetzarix. Divine gifts, they were. People revered them, treated their feathers as sacred. But reverence only lasts until greed comes along.” His voice grew rougher, more weary. “Humans hunted them for their plumage, stripped them of their god-given weightlessness. With those feathers, they could enchant ships, levitate cargo, climb to islands meant to stay untouchable. All for riches.”

His hand tightened briefly around the cup. “And so they vanished. Not one has been sighted in decades. What remains of their feathers is rationed, guarded, fought over. That is why you can’t go.”

Tezca’s jaw tightened. “Typical. We call ourselves chosen, but all we ever choose is destruction.”

Renzo let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. “I did all that work to get Tavi talking, and now it’s useless.”

Jaztayan’s brows twitched. “…Tavi. You know Tavi?”

“Yeah,” Xochi muttered, still turning a little brass ring she’d plucked from the floor between her fingers. “We just met her. She’s the one who told us to come here.”

The old man scratched the side of his head, eyes narrowing as if doing math in his head. Then, with a grumble, he said, “She’s my darn granddaughter.”

Renzo froze mid-breath, blinking fast. “Wait—hold on. Tavi is your granddaughter? Man, small world… or maybe just a weird one.” He let out an awkward laugh, glancing between Tezca and Xochi like they might confirm he’d heard correctly. “Guess that explains why she knew exactly where to send us.”

Xochi, equally stunned, flicked her eyes around the messy office. “That also explains all the weird junk in here.”

Jaztayan’s mouth curved knowingly. He cleared his throat, straightening just enough to seem official. “Alright. If Tavi sent you, then she must’ve seen something in you. She’s a good judge of character, better than me.” He hesitated, exhaling as if he already regretted what he was about to say. “So. If you, by some miracle, happen to find a quetzarix feather… I’ll allow you to reach Nayampak.”

Tezca’s grin sharpened. “Great. Where should we start?”

The old man snapped his fingers, leaning back smugly. “There’s a den, south of Cayocan. Used to belong to the quetzarix, abandoned for years. Word is something else lives there now. Big, mean enough that no one dares go near it.” His lips curled into a self-satisfied smile, already picturing them backing down.

Tezca’s expression didn’t flinch. He simply turned toward the door. “Alright, no point wasting time.”

The casualness hit Jaztayan like a slap. He choked on his drink and spat it all over his desk. “Wha—wait, you’re actually gonna do it?!” He swiped at his chin and robe with quick, jerky motions. “There are seriously dangerous creatures in there, you know!” His tone wavered, part warning, part disbelief.

Tezca only grinned, posture unshaken. “Of course we are. What other choice do we have?”

For a heartbeat, Jaztayan’s eyelid twitched. Then he broke into a ragged laugh. “Hah! Fine, fine. Take this before you run off and get eaten.” He extended a bony hand toward Tezca. The wrinkles in his skin shifted as he pressed a small, glowing red gemstone into Tezca’s palm.

Tezca turned it over once, brow furrowed. “Hhm. Thanks?”

“It releases the kinetic energy stored inside it,” Jaztayan explained, voice steady now. “Good for fire. You’ll need it in that cave.”

Xochi let out a low whistle. “Cool enchantment.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be handy,” Renzo agreed with a nod.

The gem’s warmth pressed against his palm as Tezca pocketed it. He shot the old man a sidelong smirk. “Save that smug look for later. We’ll prove you wrong.” With that, he turned and strode for the door.

“Bye!” Xochi chirped, skipping after him.

Renzo gave a small wave, still wearing a lopsided smile. “See ya.”

Left alone, Jaztayan leaned back in his chair with an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His eyes glinted, softer than his words. “Hah. Good luck, you fools.”

They stepped out into the light. The door creaked shut behind them, sealing Jaztayan’s cryptic grin in the dusty dark of his office.

For a moment, no one spoke.

The sun warmed their faces and shoulders. From afar, Cayocan’s sounds drifted on the breeze—market chatter, clinking tools, a stray flute melody threading between it all.



Author’s Note:
I’m really sorry for the long wait in uploading Part 2 — thank you so much for being patient and continuing to read this story. Things are only just starting to build here, and from Part 3 onwards, the story really starts to pick up. I’ll post regularly. I hope you’ll keep following along, and as always, your feedback means a lot to me.

If you enjoyed this, a comment or review means the world — it helps me grow as a writer.