3

Eduardo

Nogales Town

 Sonora City,

Zellux Region,

Kingdom of AshtariumSeptember 25th, 341411:45 PM

The air was thick with the scents of pastries and spiced meats, a tantalizing aroma that drifted through the crowded streets of Nogales. The town gleamed under artificial moonlight, a pale glow cast by the immense dome above. Though years had passed since my last visit, the city still retained its haunting beauty, a strange mix of elegance and alien unease. I had never grown accustomed to the night sky in Ashtarium, so starkly different from the one that blanketed my homeland. Here, the sky seemed vast and unnatural, its endless expanse a reminder of how far I was from the brutal familiarity of Xibalba.

Music spilled from plazas and taverns, a lively rhythm that reverberated off ancient stone facades. Laughter rang out in bursts, carried on the cool night air. People moved freely, their expressions lit with smiles and carefree chatter. In every direction, life thrummed with an energy I seldom saw back home. In Xibalba, there was no such lightness—only the sharp lines of desperation and survival etched into every face. I couldn't help but compare the two kingdoms. Ashtarium, united under the long-standing rule of the Ashtarmel family, was a world away from the fractured territories of Xibalba. Where the north of the continent had rebuilt itself into a coherent civilization after the Long War, the south was still clawing its way out of chaos.

Even now, centuries after the Nuclear Strike that had ended the war, Xibalba bore the scars. Its kingdoms had splintered and crumbled, replaced by gang lords carving out territories and hoarding what little remained. The Kingdom of Xibalba emerged not through diplomacy or progress, but through the iron fist of Warlord Juarez Gomez. His power was absolute, his rule forged in blood and fear. A cold peace hung over my homeland, fragile and uncertain. It was this tenuous peace that had brought me to Ashtarium, and to this strange city, on a mission fraught with risk.

I passed through the city's plaza, where throngs of people danced and mingled beneath hanging lanterns. In the plaza's center, two monuments rose like sentinels. The first was a grand tribute to a long-dead ruler of the region, its sharp edges weathered by time yet still commanding respect. It was a reminder of the past—a history that felt far removed from the life I had known. But it was the second monument that drew my gaze.

A statue of a winged, headless figure locked in combat with another winged creature stood as a relic of a forgotten age. Its surface was scarred and pitted, the stone eroded by centuries of storms and neglect. No one knew who had built it or what story it told. The mystery only deepened its power. My mother once whispered that it was a remnant of the Children of Light, a lost race of beings that the ancient world had all but erased. I stared at it, transfixed by its rusted grandeur. Under the dome's pale glow, the monument seemed to shimmer, its headless form reaching for some hidden truth. For a moment, the world around me fell away, and all I could see was the glint of the statue's wings and the emptiness where its face should have been.

The spell broke when I caught sight of my own gloved hand. Beneath the silvery fabric lay the burnt, disfigured flesh—a permanent mark of survival and a reminder of home's brutal lessons. My fingers itched to peel away the glove, to scratch at the damaged skin, but I clenched my hand into a fist. Not here. Not now. I couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of my vassals.

"My lord," Carmen Acosta, one of my trusted aides, whispered. Her voice was low, measured. "Your cousin approaches."

I turned to see Rafael Mircalla making his way through the crowded streets. His bearing was calm, his pace deliberate. We had exchanged letters before my arrival, and his assistance had been invaluable. Rafael was one of the few family members I could stand, his demeanor unburdened by the arrogance so common in Ashtarium's elite. As my mother's sister's son, he was a direct connection to the Mircalla line—one of the seven great noble houses allied with the Ashtarmels.

"So the gate is supposed to be on lockdown," Rafael said as he reached us, his tone casual yet purposeful. "Orders from the Countess. But given the current situation, exceptions can be made."

I nodded, understanding the stakes. Zellux was a region on the brink. Once firmly within the Ashtarmel kingdom's grasp, it had declared independence in the aftermath of King Rafael's death. Tensions with the new ruler had only grown, leaving Zellux in a precarious position. The noble house here had long prided itself on its autonomy, and the current coup was straining the fragile alliance that had kept the kingdom whole. Rafael's ability to secure a safe exit for me was no small feat.

"What now?" I asked.

Rafael gestured toward the street's edge. "There's a transport vehicle leaving in fifteen minutes. It's typically used to smuggle humans between regions, but I've arranged for it to take you to Ardonia. From there, you can continue your journey."

He led us through the lively streets to a small, unassuming van parked near a pastry stall. The driver, a bald, brown-skinned human named Tonto, leaned out of the window. The air around the van carried a faint metallic tang, undercut by the sharp scent of verbena. I hesitated, sensing the traces of silver on the vehicle's surface.

"What's the meaning of this?" Carmen bristled. "How do you expect Lord Gomez to ride in such a contraption?"

Rafael remained calm. "It's for your protection," he explained. "You'll be crossing the radiated lands. The rabid demonic beasts out there are kept at bay by silver and verbena. Trust me, it's necessary."

I regarded the van again. Practicality won out over pride. "It's fine," I said. Carmen fell silent, though her discontent was clear. Rafael smiled faintly, his expression both amused and resigned.

"Well, cousin," he said, extending a hand. "I hope you find what you're looking for. It would be a shame if the Old-blood line of the Ashtarmels disappeared entirely."

"I'll find her," I replied, the words steady and resolute. I knew the risks ahead. I knew the dangers lurking in the shadows. But failure was not an option. She was worth it. She had to be.