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Chapter 284 - Jurassic Valley (XLI)
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 00:00:09 +0000 UTC“The emissary has arrived. Follow me.”
They rose without a word and followed the man down another series of wide corridors, each more ornate than the last. The walls were lined with deep carvings—stories of the Ajnal lineage, the sun, pyramids, and battles fought. Small embedded crystals pulsed softly between the glyphs, casting a faint golden light that flickered in rhythm with their steps.
Soon, they entered a vast chamber.
Imani’s eyes widened slightly.
The floor was a single vast slab of dark volcanic stone, polished to a dull sheen. Massive pillars, each shaped in the likeness of ancient serpents and jaguars, rose toward a high, stepped ceiling inlaid with copper filigree and constellations marked in crystal.
Drums sounded softly from hidden alcoves. A slow, rolling cadence across the hall.
Along the sides, rows of long stone tables lined the space. Platters of roasted meats, dark stews, bowls of fruit cut with geometric precision, and woven baskets of flat maize cakes and bitter herbs sat ready. Tall pitchers of water and spiced cacao gleamed in the dim light.
Around those tables sat groups of Ajnal—elders, warriors, smiths, and figures of greater weight.
Imani could feel it—several among them radiated a presence he knew well. Sun Bearers.
He exchanged a glance with Arjun and the others. The same understanding passed between them.
Their group was led to a side table—lower, positioned near the front, yet beneath the raised stone dais that dominated the end of the hall.
They sat without a word.
A moment passed. Then another.
At last, a well dressed Ajnal figure stepped forward onto the dais. His cloak was woven from layers of black fibre threaded with jade and gold, the glyph of the rising sun marked across his chest.
He raised a hand. The drums ceased.
The announcer struck his staff once upon the stone and a single, resonant tone echoed through the chamber.
“The path is opened. Let the Faces of the Sun take their place.”
A deep hum spread through the space, reverberating through the carved pillars.
Then the announcer’s voice rang again.
“Great General of the Western Front, Left Shield of Ka’tumal, Serpent Blade of the West… behold—General… K’in Tohtal!”
From beneath the serpent arch, the General emerged. Armoured in dark plates traced with jaguar motifs, two obsidian blades across his back gleaming faintly. His stride was steady, grounded, each step measured against the silent pulse of the hall.
He ascended the dais and took his position to the left of the central throne—silent, arms folded across his chest.
The announcer’s staff struck the stone once more.
“Voice of the Sun, Keeper of the Thirteen Sacred Fires, Guardian of the Celestial Path… behold—Grand Priest… Aj’kin Tehuan!”
The Grand Priest followed. Robes of black and jade flowed behind him, staff of sun-serpent in hand. His gaze was calm, steps fluid as if walking paths unseen by others.
He reached the dais and stood to the right of the throne, his staff left slightly floating in the air beside him.
The announcer then took a long, deliberate step forward.
His spine arched, arms rising with the staff held aloft as the crowd fell into complete silence.
He struck the chamber floor with a thunderous crack—seven times, each heavier than the last.
DUM. DUM.
DUM. DUM.
DUM. DUM. DUM!
The sound rolled through the pillars like a pulse of the earth itself.
“She Who Walks Between Earth and Sky, Flame of the Eternal Pillar, Lady of the Celestial Seals, Daughter of the Great Winged Serpent, Voice of the Ancestors, Sun Lady of the Ajnal… all stand before the presence—our glorious Empress… Kin Ajaw!!!”
A hush swept through the hall as everyone present rose to their feet, Imani and the rest following immediately.
Then—beneath the serpent arch—she appeared.
The Empress moved alone. No escort. No flourish.
A tall headdress of obsidian, jade, and gold crowned her head, the intricate layers gleaming beneath the dim light. Her crimson-black mantle whispered across the stone with each step, every movement precise and controlled.
Yet what struck Imani most was not her appearance.
It was the weight in the air.
As she advanced toward the dais, it pressed upon him.
The same weight he had once felt from Noh—yet also different. More rooted. More calm.
Across from him, Arjun sat equally still, gaze locked forward.
The Empress climbed the steps of the dais in silence.
She stood before the great stone throne for a long moment, gaze sweeping the hall—then placed her hands upon the carved arms of the throne and seated herself.
The announcer waited several seconds, then raised his voice once more.
“The Faces of the Sun have taken their place.”
He raised his hands and bowed with the traditional Ajnal gesture. The crowd followed in perfect unison, while the Empress remained seated, eyes unblinking.
They held the bow for several long seconds before straightening. Most then finally sat down.
Imani felt a bit awkward in this kind of gathering. He had never been in any truly formal setting before, so he simply followed what everyone else was doing.
As he sat down, he glanced at the others. Some, like Maurice and Camila, looked composed. Others—like Ishaam—looked far too pale.
Imani caught his gaze and it made the young man jolt slightly. In response, Imani mustered a soft smile and gave him a small nod—trying to put him at ease. It didn’t work.
The drums started again, prompting Imani to focus ahead, shoulders slightly tense.
“Let the path be opened. From the Far East, beyond the Great Plains, the Azcoyatl Empire has sent their Voice.”
The gates slid open once more, and a figure dressed in an intricate, full-body cloak stepped forward. The cloak was adorned with carved lines forming what seemed to be a hummingbird, its shape woven in fine, conductive, golden filaments.
“Behold—the Left-Winged Primal Priest of the Azcoyatl Empire, the Mother of Constructs, the Radiant Hummingbird. I present to you… Emissary Elder—Citlali!”
But as grand and majestic as this Primal Priest might be, Imani’s eyes were focused on the person to her right, just several steps behind.
Clad in a slightly less refined cloak, with a silver pattern suggesting a long-tailed bird he couldn’t quite identify, was… Chiara.
Even though her face was half hidden by the cloak, he could easily tell it was her.
As she walked forward, just to the right of the Emissary, he caught a glimpse of her eyes as she raised them.
She scanned the crowd—then fixed her gaze on him and smiled softly.
Imani didn’t even know how to react. It was one thing for them to accompany the Emissary… but for Chiara herself to be the right hand of the Primal Priest? What the hell had they been doing in the Azcoyatl Empire!?
But it didn’t stop there.
Several steps behind Chiara and the Emissary, more figures walked in formation—the Azcoyatl cohort.
Among them, Imani spotted a tall man—taller than any of those present here, save himself. His face was slightly shadowed beneath his hood, but that perfect jawline, and that unmistakable grin beneath, left no doubt.
Lukas.
As if on cue, Lukas glanced their way—grinned, and gave a lazy blink with his left eye.
Another figure caught Imani’s attention near the end. A man fully clad in metallic armour, a thick helmet hiding most of his face.
But Imani caught the eyes beneath the visor. That was enough for him to recognize him.
Wang.
Imani’s gaze flicked over the others in the cohort quickly and confirmed that there were no other Climbers present—only native Azcoyatl.
The Elder Emissary continued walking forward and stopped several meters before the steps that led to the throne.
She bowed slightly. Behind her, Chiara and the rest of the cohort bowed low, their movements precise.
Empress Kin regarded the Elder Emissary in silence for a long moment, but there was a flicker behind her eyes that suggested a silent communication between them.
After a couple of seconds, the Empress stared at Chiara for a moment—her gaze unreadable—before returning her attention to the Emissary.
More seconds passed before she finally nodded.
An attendant swiftly approached and guided the Emissary and her cohort to their designated table, though they were divided—Citlali and Chiara at one table closer to the dais, the rest of the cohort placed at a lower standing.
As all sat down, the announcer struck the stone once.
“Let the feast commence.”
At once, the tension in the hall eased. A low murmur returned as the drums shifted to a lighter rhythm. Attendants moved swiftly, refilling pitchers, bringing fresh platters. Conversations resumed in measured tones.
Imani sat stiffly through the opening of the feast. Dishes were placed before them—roasted game, spiced tubers, fermented maize, rich stews.
He could barely touch any of it. His gaze kept drifting toward Chiara, Lukas, and the others. He dared not send any EM pulses for fear of it being inappropriate, as—
“We will talk later. Let me go through the boring part first.”
Imani’s eyes widened slightly as he heard Chiara’s voice clearly in his head. He glanced her way in question, but she remained engaged in a quiet conversation with what appeared to be one of the Grand Smiths—someone of the same rank as his mentor back at the northern fortress.
She remained poised and calm, speaking in low tones, while Lukas and Wang seemed far more relaxed—Wang even chuckling quietly at something Lukas whispered.
The formal feast lasted perhaps an hour or two. After that, the Empress, the Elder Emissary, and several others departed to a separate chamber—only Chiara followed quietly after, with Lukas, Wang, and the rest of the cohort left behind.
Imani wanted to approach them, but noticed that groups were sent separate ways. He simply gave Lukas a nod before leaving the grand hall.
An Ajnal guided them back to a smaller room—plainly decorated, but well-lit and comfortable.
Another hour passed before someone arrived. An Ajnal official entered, with one of the Azcoyatl aides beside him.
“You will follow me. The Emissary Elder’s disciple requests your presence.”
Disciple? Chiara?
Imani met Arjun’s glance, then stood. The others followed.
They were led out of the great hall, through a winding series of side corridors—lit with faint pulsing filaments—until they reached a large guest chamber deep within the pyramid.
Decorated richly in Azcoyatl style, the chamber bore banners of deep green and gold, and geometric patterns traced the walls. A circular stone table stood in the center.
Inside, Chiara waited—already seated. Lukas leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, still smiling faintly. Wang stood straight near the door.
As they entered, the two who had brought them bowed to Chiara and left, the door sliding closed behind them.
Imani felt all of it was surreal, until—
“Well, nice to see you guys. How’s it been?” Lukas said in his usual casual tone, quickly breaking the tension.
Imani opened his mouth but wasn’t even sure where to start. As much as he was happy to see them, what he had to say…
He exhaled. “Not good.”
Lukas frowned for a moment, his gaze shifting across the group, then back to Imani. “Well… let’s sit down first. If you’re still hungry, we’ve got some snacks and—”
“Where’s Ayu and Alonso?” Chiara asked suddenly, her voice flat.
Imani felt his heart stop… wait—
“Ayu? I thought she was with you.”
Chiara and Lukas frowned, exchanged a glance, then looked back at Imani.
“So you haven’t seen her? She’s not with the Ajnal?” Chiara pressed.
Imani looked at Arjun, then at the rest. They all shook their heads. “No.”
Lukas’ gaze narrowed, fingers lightly tapping his arm.
“Strange. But maybe she’s still in the wilds, or perhaps even in the plains with the beastmen.” He paused, then locked eyes with Imani. “But now—what about Alonso?”
In an instant, all eyes fixed on him. Chiara. Wang. Even those at the back—those Imani and Arjun had said would be brought into the loop later.
Now—none of them looked away.
Imani stared down at the floor, breath caught in his throat.
Then, slowly, he forced himself to meet Luka’s gaze.
“Alonso is dead.”
Comments
Léon Geide
I like it though. Actually, the exposure, world-building, and perspective shifts are what I enjoy almost the most
Silver Beard
I get the necessary for the story and perspectives; but this chapter... ugh.
