An Echo of Crimson

The spear thrust inches past her face, so close she could feel the wind ripple against her cheek. Ellara pivoted sharply, her bare feet digging into the rain-soaked earth as she twisted to avoid the blow. The battlefield was chaos: guttural war cries, the clash of steel on steel, and the coppery tang of blood that hung thick in the air. Around her, warriors draped in jaguar pelts clashed with obsidian-bladed weapons, their faces painted in ceremonial black and red. But Ellara wasn’t from here—or this time.

Her raven-black hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, damp with rain and sweat. Those striking blue eyes, a shade alien to these lands, burned with determination. She wore a loose-fitting tunic dyed deep crimson, its sleeves torn jagged at the shoulders. It was belted at the waist with a woven sash decorated with intricate diamond and triangle patterns, reflecting the refined artistry of the Mayan civilization. Instead of her modern red shorts, she donned a flowing skirt made of layered fabric, hemmed just to the knee, more suited to the humid jungles of 9th-century Mesoamerica. Around her neck, the diamond-shaped pendant rested, now fashioned from hammered gold flecked with jade—a treasure she’d bartered for earlier in this strange land.

The pendant glowed faintly against her collarbone as she crouched low and swung her arm—a flash of light erupting from her hand. Her cell phone. No longer just a portal for selfies and texts but weaponized by the energy it now strangely harnessed here, like some forgotten artifact regaining its power. The warrior who had thrust at her recoiled as the dazzling light sent him sprawling. This wasn’t the first time her phone had done the unexplainable since she’d woken up near the stepped temple two weeks ago.

See also Glide of Shadows

Ellara gasped for breath and scanned her surroundings. She hadn’t come here willingly. One moment she’d been in her apartment, laughing on her couch while trying to post a picture online, and the next, there had been blinding white light and searing pain. She had awoken in a clearing at sunrise, greeted by towering pyramids and concerned villagers clad in vibrant, handwoven garments. Somehow, her modern attire hadn’t seemed entirely out of place for them. They had called her Xtabay, a spirit of the forest, adorned in red to mark both passion and danger.

Their chieftain, an aged man with a headpiece of resplendent quetzal feathers, had pleaded with her in a language she didn’t speak yet curiously understood. A prophecy of the sky-tearer, a foreigner with glowing artifacts, who would doom—or save—the people from the “Ra’kanal,” shadowy invaders bent on annihilation. She’d laughed, said she wasn’t a fighter, just someone who worked in marketing. But the pendant she wore, the villagers claimed, was a sign of her destiny. She hadn’t believed it until the first battle, when the light from her cell phone burned clean through an enemy shield.

Now, there was no time to doubt or reflect. Another invader advanced toward her, wielding a war club embedded with shards of volcanic glass. His face was painted with the white skull of death. Ellara raised her phone again, not entirely sure how it worked. She pressed the “home” button instinctively, and another burst of light pulsed outward, surging toward the warrior and knocking him back. More attackers followed behind him, undeterred.

She had been reluctant to fight, but desperation had hardened her resolve. Before her, villagers she had come to know and care for fought valiantly, risking their lives. There was Ketan, the wiry young boy who had carved a flute for her, now using it to bash an invader in the shins. There was Ixchel, a fiery woman who reminded Ellara of her best friend back home, taking down two opponents despite the deep gash on her thigh. She couldn’t let them down.

Rain pelted down harder, drenching Ellara’s crimson tunic and plastering her hair to her face. The red of her clothing now bore streaks of dark mud and smears of blood. She felt the rhythm of her heartbeat pounding in her ears, matching the war drums echoing in the distance. With every pulse, the pendant seemed to glow brighter, as if responding to her adrenaline—or her will.

A voice cut through the chaos. “Xtabay! To the temple!” It was the chieftain, beckoning to her from the base of the grand pyramid. His robes, once pristine and white, were splattered with grime. In his hands, he clutched a ceremonial staff tipped with jade, matching the intricate patterns of her pendant.

Ellara made her way toward him, weaving between fighting bodies. She gasped as she slipped on wet stone, her knee hitting the ground hard, but she pushed forward, determined not to falter now. When she reached the chieftain, he pressed the staff into her hands and placed his callused palms over hers.

“The gods wait for you at the summit,” he urged, his voice trembling with urgency. “Only you can wield the power of the Red Dawn.”

Before she could question what that meant, the ground beneath them shook violently. A deafening roar filled the air, and Ellara looked up to see a shadow descend from the sky—a gargantuan obsidian ship, sleek and alien, hovering just above the pyramid. The Ra’kanal weren’t merely warriors; they were conquerors from beyond this world.

Ellara’s hand tightened around the staff as she began her ascent up the temple steps. Each one was steep, slick with rainwater, and as she climbed, her breath grew ragged. The pendant around her neck flared with light, illuminating the path ahead. The roar of the ship’s engines grew louder, vibrating in her chest. She could feel the heat from the energy beams ready to fire at any second. Every instinct screamed for her to flee, but a deeper, primal resolve propelled her forward.