Jaime stepped forward, meeting the first jaguar's open claws with his tower shield. The impact thundered through the air. He swung his macuahuitl in reply—its obsidian edge carving through fur and flesh. A sickening crunch followed, echoing across the forest.
To his right, Jimena burst forward, violet fire trailing behind her like a comet's tail. Her blazing rod connected squarely with another jaguar's skull, shattering bone in one brutal strike. The creature dropped, motionless.
A second jaguar lunged for her back, but Xolo intercepted it mid-leap. His obsidian claws sank deep into its flank, smoke curling as the flesh sizzled black.
Marisol scanned the clearing, pulse quickening. The remaining jaguars circled warily—eyes low, tails twitching, testing their formation. Her grip tightened around her obsidian spear, every muscle ready to spring.
Then, all at once, they pounced.
Marisol cried out, thrusting toward the nearest shape—but a blur of black swatted her spear aside. Another clawed at her round shield, sparks flashing where obsidian met shadow.
The last jaguar's jaws gnashed toward her chest—only to be ripped away by Xolo, who slammed into it with a growl. His claws split through its body in a burst of heat and light.
The rest didn't last long.
Jaime's blows came heavy and deliberate, every swing breaking bone. Jimena's strikes flashed like lightning, each movement faster and more precise than the last. Together, they finished the predators in seconds.
Silence returned—broken only by Marisol's ragged breathing. She sank to her knees, trembling more from the lingering shock than exhaustion.
"Well," Jimena said between breaths, resting her smoldering rod on one shoulder, "that was fun."
Xolo barked once, his ember eyes flaring with agreement.
Jaime removed his helm, golden light fading from his eyes as he exhaled. Cimi fluttered weakly on his shoulder before settling into stillness.
"Maybe we can send Xolo ahead to scout," Marisol suggested, her voice steadier now.
The obsidian panther barked again—low, confident—his armor pulsing faintly with violet fire. A fierce aura rippled from him, eager and ready.
After a brief respite, the group began following Xolo as he scouted ahead.
They climbed higher and higher, the dirt path winding into a cold pine forest. The air thinned, crisp and sharp in their lungs. In the distance, white snow blanketed the upper peaks like scattered ash.
The children gasped at the sight—a dreamscape of glittering white they had never known. For a moment, Marisol felt the temptation to stray from the path, to walk toward the snow and touch the heavens themselves. But she shook the thought away. Xolo paid no mind to wonder or beauty; his focus lay only on the trail ahead.
Soon the upward climb shifted into a gentle descent. The silence deepened. No jaguars, no birds, no whispers of movement beyond the crunch of boots and paws. For all its beauty, the forest felt hollow, as if the mountain itself were holding its breath.
Jaime kept a wary lookout, his eyes faintly aglow with restrained power. Cimi dozed atop his head, feathers rustling with every step.
Jimena drifted closer to Xolo, letting him forge ahead before catching up again, the pattern steady and instinctive.
The rhythm of their march felt strangely comforting to Marisol. She stayed close to Jaime, sharing her and Axochi's warm energy with him—two heartbeats pulsing in unison beneath her armor.
It was only when they neared the foot of the mountain that the illusion of peace broke.
There—across a wide clearing—lay dozens of jaguars. Not prowling or hunting, but gathered in groups, lounging and play-fighting like cubs. Their golden eyes gleamed beneath the filtered light, their spotted coats blending into the shadows.
Marisol found the sight almost endearing. The memory of their earlier attack dulled in the face of such calm.
"Can we avoid them?" she asked softly, a trace of hope threading her voice.
"I don't think so," Jimena replied, her tone grim.
Xolo's low growl rumbled through the air before she even finished speaking.
Ahead, several jaguars had already lifted their heads. Then—movement. A blur of muscle and fur as a pack broke away, sprinting straight toward them.
Jaime exhaled slowly, resigned. With a thought, his heavy armor reformed around him. The golden light flared behind his helm as Cimi's eyes opened, twin suns gleaming. His own burned to match—two pairs of eyes illuminating the shadows, stripping the world bare before their gaze.
Beside him, Jimena blazed to life. Violet fire licked at her obsidian rod, her grin sharp and eager. Xolo mirrored her ferocity, his armor flaring with the same ghostly hue.
They stood together—three warriors and their guides—ready to meet the deadly predators once more.
The prowl leapt—dozens of jaguars erupting from the underbrush, claws gleaming, jaws wide.
Jaime took the lead, his armored frame crashing against two of the beasts. The impact sent them tumbling with bone-cracking force, though they rose again, snarling, as more of their kin poured from the trees. The clearing became a living storm of teeth and shadow.
They moved as one.
A tri-colored surge of power flared from the children—gold, violet, and pink spiraling upward before crashing back down, folding into their armor.
Jaime's obsidian plates shimmered, reforming into sleek overlapping feathers, each glowing faintly from within with trapped sunlight. His heavy helm merged seamlessly with Cimi, becoming an owl's visage of midnight stone and gold—eyes burning like twin suns.
Jimena ignited. Her body became living flame, armor condensing into sharp talons and sleek lines that mirrored Xolo's lithe form. Her helm stretched into a feral grin, fangs bared, ember eyes pouring violet fire.
Marisol's transformation was quieter, yet no less divine. A cool wave of mist enveloped her as her helm took shape—smooth and round, with axolotl gills fluttering softly. The jade eyes wept steady streams of water, each tear glowing faintly as it struck the ground.
The jaguars faltered at the sight of the gods' chosen—hesitating, circling, unsure whether to attack or bow.
Jimena decided for them.
With a snarl and a flash of violet, she launched skyward. For a breathless instant, she was gone—then she came crashing down like a falling star, her impact carving a crater in the earth. A shockwave of violet fire rippled outward, engulfing the prowling beasts.
The jaguars roaring in pain scattered, their forms wreathed in divine flame.
Jaime's golden eyes tracked them. He raised a hand; obsidian feathers broke from his armor and streaked through the smoke like arrows of light. One by one, they found their marks—swift, silent mercy for the suffering.
Marisol stood at the center of the storm, her pink mist flowing outward, feeding Jaime's strength and soothing Jimena's burning aura. The energy pulsed with each breath, binding the three together in perfect harmony.
Minutes passed in chaos—jets of violet fire, swarms of golden feathers, clouds of luminous mist. The clearing became a living mural of war and light.
Then came the finale. Jimena, wreathed in violet flame, swung her rod in wide arcs, each strike trailing spectral embers. Jaguars fell in droves, fleeing in panic—until Jaime soared above them, feathers flashing, and brought down the last of the pack in a radiant storm.
When the fire dimmed and the mist cleared, silence reclaimed the mountain.
Only the soft crackling of sacred pyres remained. Violet flames consuming all.