The howl of the jungle came alive like a symphony at dusk, the sounds of howler monkeys and flitting birds competing with the crackling of the ceremonial bonfire. Ixchel adjusted the strap of her embroidered huipil, a garment dyed in rich shades of pink, blue, and green, the colors spiraling in sacred patterns that mimicked the stars above. Her bare feet gripped the cool stone of the temple’s summit as darkness fell, the weight of her obsidian dagger pressing against her hip. Tonight, the gods demanded an offering, and Ixchel, the Keeper of Tides, was at the center of it all.
Her long, straight brown hair, glinting like mahogany in the firelight, was woven with delicate feathers and the faint shimmer of shell fragments. She stood proudly, her angular features softened by a serene expression, though her heart pounded like the ceiba drums below. In her hand, she clasped a polished, reflective disc of pyrite—a prized artifact in this lost city of Tikal—and gazed into its bronzed surface. But instead of her painted reflection, she saw flashes of another world, of a strange and shimmering vision.
“The tides,” she whispered, her voice barely heard over the bustling priests below. “They are changing.”
She closed her eyes. Flashes of a strange land filled her mind—people adorned in garments of alien simplicity, a cloth that clung like a second skin, patterned in impossible likeness to her huipil. In this world, she held not her pyrite disc but a sleek, glowing artifact of unknown purpose, reflecting her smiling visage. She felt ripples of laughter, a carefree air that felt foreign to her, as if her soul had escaped to a timeline unfathomable. And the sea—the endless sea—beckoned her from beyond.
“Ixchel,” barked a voice behind her, tearing away the vision. It was Kish, the High Priest, robed in the black and gold of his station. His tone was sharp. “The gods demand your clarity. Focus.”
Ixchel swallowed hard, nodding, adjusting the ceremonial turquoise necklace resting against her collarbone. “I have seen,” she replied, her voice steady now, “a vision of what is to come. A great upheaval, Kish—one that spans both the skies and the depths of the water.”
Kish frowned, glancing over the jaguar pelt slung across his shoulder. “The gods demand action, not riddles,” he said. “Prepare yourself. The ceremony begins.”
Below the temple summit, the people of Tikal had gathered. Their faces were painted, their arms adorned with jade, their feet stomping rhythmically. Bonfires lit the ancient plaza, casting shadows of their ancestors onto the towering pyramids. Ixchel descended slowly, her huipil flowing around her like an aura, the embroidered edges catching the firelight. She could feel their eyes, the weight of traditions older than the stones themselves pressing upon her.
The altar stood like a gaping maw at the center of the plaza. A basin of water reflected the constellations above, ripples made by a priest’s hand breaking their perfect symmetry. Ixchel approached, her pyrite disc held high, as if daring the stars themselves to offer her guidance.
Then, as the first chant rang out, her vision shattered the present again. The alien cloth, the flashing artifact, the endless ocean. But this time, another detail surfaced—a city submerged beneath waves, its spires glowing, teeming with life like bioluminescent creatures of the deepest seas. Could the gods be warning her of a great flood? Or calling her to a distant future?
As the priests began their invocations, Ixchel made a decision that would seal her fate. She raised the pyrite to her lips and spoke clearly into its reflective surface, “Guide me.” Then, in a single fluid motion, she poured the basin’s water over the altar, dousing its flames and silencing the chants.
The crowd gasped. Kish stormed forward, his jaguar pelt billowing behind him. “What have you done?!” he roared, grabbing Ixchel by the arm. His eyes blazed, but Ixchel met his gaze with a calm resolve.
“The gods demand more than blood tonight,” she said. “They have shown me waters unknown to us—endless as the sky and alive with light. Our destiny does not end here beneath the stars, Kish. It flows onward, beyond the tides.”
Suddenly, a deafening rumble shook the plaza. The crowd screamed as the earth quaked beneath their feet; a crack split across the altar, and water erupted forth, flooding the stone plaza in seconds. Yet, the water glowed—a luminous blue that pulsed in rhythm with the ceiba drums. It rose swiftly, but instead of drowning the people, it lifted them, cradling them in its warmth.
Kish stared as his anger gave way to awe. “You… you have awoken the tides of time,” he whispered.
Ixchel smiled faintly, the vision finally aligning with reality. “Not I,” she said. “The gods. They have merely sent us a reminder—that the sea connects all things.”
When the waters receded, the people of Tikal found themselves transformed. Their city thrived as never before, their connection to the ocean and the cosmos deepened. As for Ixchel, she vanished the night the flood came, her huipil carried away on the luminous currents. But her name lived on, spoken in reverence by those who remembered the Keeper of Tides who dared challenge the gods—and glimpsed the infinite.
Far away, in the distant world she’d seen, another woman in a swimsuit patterned with pink, blue, and green hues smiled into her smartphone. The sea glistened behind her, endless and alive, as if whispering the name “Ixchel” across the waves of time.
The genre of this short story is mystical adventure.
The Source…check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Pink, Blue, and Green Two-Piece Bikini for a Vibrant Summer Selfie Look
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