It was the crack of dawn when the drums of war began to beat. Xiloxochitl sprinted through the obsidian-lined marketplace of Atlaua, her golden-threaded sandals kicking up dust with every desperate step. Behind her, the air vibrated with the chants of warriors readying themselves for battle. She glanced over her shoulder, her piercing blue eyes scanning for any sign of pursuit, but the streets were just waking, the citizens oblivious to the storm that brewed beyond the city walls.
Xiloxochitl—known to some as “the golden dove” for her unparalleled beauty and cunning—was no mere market wanderer. She was the secret heir to the throne of Atlaua, the last daughter of the bloodline that once ruled the majestic city before invaders from the Smoke Lands conquered it ten years prior. Her voluminous blonde mane was tied back in thick braids adorned with golden beads that reflected the rising sun, a stark contrast to the rich earth tones of the native populace. Her outfit, though daring and unique among her people, whispered not of vanity, but of power.
She was clad in a garment of jet-black feathers woven intricately onto a fabric made from jaguar pelts, each feather tipped in shimmering gold leaf that caught and refracted the sunlight around her. The halter-style top bore the deep V-neck cut desired by warriors and nobles alike, revealing toned clavicles and the ceremonial marks of her lineage. A high-waisted wrap skirt of black suede embroidered with golden glyphs hugged her curves, leaving her agile legs free for movement. On any other woman, the attire might have seemed ostentatious, but on Xiloxochitl, it radiated authority born from confidence and necessity.
Her fingers grazed the obsidian dagger at her hip as she skidded to the far side of the marketplace. The shaman’s cryptic warning from the night prior echoed in her mind: “Flesh and gold cannot outrun betrayal; trust only stone.” She hadn’t understood his words at the time, but as she reached the Sanctuary’s hidden entryway just beyond the Jaguar Fountain, clarity struck her like an arrow to the chest.
“You won’t find safety in shadows, Xiloxochitl.”
A smooth voice resonated behind her—a voice she knew all too well. A cold chill ran through her blood as she turned to face Ixomani, the man who had once fought beside her family to preserve the throne but who now wore the mask of the usurpers.
The traitor stepped into the sunlit square, his jaguar cloak sweeping the ground. His obsidian-tipped blade hung loosely at his side, as though unnerved by her presence. “We could have ruled together,” he began, his dark eyes glinting. “But you chose rebellion over glory.”
“You chose lies,” she countered, her voice steel. “You spilled blood that called you brother.”
Ixomani tilted his head, studying her, then slowly raised a hand. At his signal, warriors clad in smoke-dyed armor emerged from the surrounding alleys, their spears and shields forming an unbroken line. Xiloxochitl did not flinch. They had not yet seen what she had planned—what she had stolen from the temple vault the night before.
“Then it seems even golden doves must be caged.”
Without another word, she pulled the obsidian dagger from her hip and plunged it into the gilded fountain beside her. The water that sprang from its mouth—a marvel said to contain the blessings of Atlaua’s gods—erupted in violent sprays of gold and scarlet. The ritual glyphs on her skirt illuminated as the power awakened, forming a protective circle that froze the soldiers mid-advance.
Ixomani staggered backward, shielding his face as the fountain waters turned into fiery tendrils of smoke and light. “What have you done?” he bellowed.
Xiloxochitl met his gaze one final time, her face a mixture of triumph and regret. “I’ve set the gods of Atlaua free.”
The ground beneath them began to quake, and the towering statues of jaguar gods that loomed over the city groaned to life, their stone limbs breaking free of centuries-old confinement. As Ixomani’s forces scattered in chaos, Xiloxochitl turned away from him and sprinted toward the distant horizon. Her destiny lay not in reclaiming the throne, but in ensuring that the gods she’d awakened did not destroy everything she had fought so hard to protect.
Behind her, the ancient city of Atlaua roared with both fury and liberation, its secrets finally unleashed.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Black Bikini with Gold Embroidery: Modern Marilyn Monroe Vintage-Inspired Swimwear Style
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