A cold flash of lightning slipped through the cracks in the wall, followed by a thunderclap that rumbled deep in the night; then only the flicker of the ocote remained, and the sound of rain upon the palm-thatched roof.
"So now you know what the Shameful Night—the Ak'abil p'u'ujil—truly was," said the cacique.
Magdalena looked around at them all.
"And now the pirates have tied us to their fate, don't you see? If we do anything that raises suspicion, they'll betray us to the Spaniards—who haven't stopped asking about the Franciscan missionaries. They told me more than once they would send us before the Inquisition."
A tense murmur rippled through the room.
"That is why we cannot let Rafael fall into the hands of the Inquisition… nor any of the pirates," she said.
Magdalena narrowed her eyes.
"Tell me something, Father," she asked. "Are you by any chance involved in the operations at Xul-Kan?"
All eyes turned to the cacique; he cleared his throat.
"I was the one who told them about the base once used by the Franciscans," he said. "I told them the friars had been extracting that same metal the strange Jesuit from the Cenote was searching for."
"Oh no, Father," said Magdalena. "Why would you do that?"
The cacique straightened, his chin lifted with defiance.
"I thought that with their knowledge of mining and maritime trade we might make a good business… and we did. A portion of the profits was shared with me, as with the sale of rum and the dealings at Xul-Kan."
When the notables heard this, they began to protest.
"Don't act as if you're blameless," said the cacique. "You took your share as well."
"But you never told us about those direct profits," an elder retorted.
An uproar followed—accusations, shouts, threats. Several men stood and pointed fingers at the cacique; he rose too, hand going to the hilt of the weapon at his belt. Those outside leaned in to see what was happening. Magdalena felt a shiver of déjà vu, as if the riot at the redoubt were happening all over again.
"Enough!" she shouted. "Enough, all of you!"
The room fell quiet for a moment.
"Don't you see? This is Rafael's plan! He drove you to do something abominable only to use it against you later—to trap you under his blackmail. And now he's succeeding in dividing you."
They looked at one another, uneasily.
"You know Ixzel is right," said the H-men.
"The Ak'abil p'u'ujil was an act of survival," another said.
"But in the end, we were pushed into it—to be ruled by the threat of denunciation to the Inquisition."
Magdalena sighed in frustration.
"Let's stop talking about it. A single word on this matter could condemn us all. The Spaniards are here already, sniffing about like the dogs the conquerors brought with them—searching for gold. We must stay united, and act with intelligence."
The cacique looked at his daughter and took her by the shoulders.
"I'm surprised by your composure and wisdom," he said. "You have the gift to become the next Ah'Nab'."
The others murmured their assent. Then the H-men lifted his hands.
"All the more reason to hasten the transition," he said.
"Transition? Of what?" asked Magdalena.
"Ixzel, the maiden of the cenote is here with us," said the H-men.
"Oh heavens," Magdalena muttered, narrowing her eyes.
From the adjoining chamber emerged the veiled woman, led by an old matron. She approached Magdalena and lifted her veil, revealing the deeply wrinkled face of an aged woman.
"I am the Ah'Nab', guardian maiden of the sacred cenote," she said. "I was forced to hide in a temple far from the Franciscans, where I kept watch over the Great Seal to keep them away. Then came the pirates, and I lived in fear of being found." She held out a small box.
Magdalena took it; when she opened it, the glow of a pendant identical to the Jesuit's filled the shadows. Yet this one bore the symbol of the Southern Bacab, Hobnil. The girl froze in astonishment.
"This… this is the same piece the Jesuit carried," she said, as a murmur of awe spread through the room.
"When he showed it to me, I was both amazed and horrified," said the H-men. "It granted him access to a hidden chamber—one that opened by the will of the gods. They allowed him to enter and discover that image, instead of the relic guarded by Hun-Hunahpú, as written in the sacred codex."
"What relic?" asked Magdalena.
The H-men paused; only the steady fall of rain filled the silence.
"The K'abalil K'uh—the Divine Helm, once named Gizob by the ancients," he said at last. "A relic that bestowed power upon whoever placed it upon their head. According to the lost codex, it was worn by the god Buluk Chabtan, who in his might sought to consume the earth. But Kukulkán descended from the clouds and, with his breath, quenched the flames of Once; he stripped Buluk Chabtan of the K'abalil K'uh and gave it to Hun-Hunahpú, that he might guard it through the ages. And now, the Jesuit has shown—through that strange image—that someone has stolen the relic, which must lie hidden, waiting to be awakened."
As the H-men spoke, the heavens thundered, as if the Feathered Serpent himself were confirming the priest's words.
"Could it have been those white men the pirates were escorting?" asked Magdalena.
"No," said an elder. "They tried to unravel the temple's secrets but failed, like many before them. They dug into its depths, used fire and powder, yet never reached the sacred chamber."
"Then how did the Jesuit succeed?" asked Magdalena.
"I believe I made it clear—he used that medallion, one like this," said the H-men.
A hush fell over them.
"Then how did he come by it?" asked the cacique.
Another silence.
"He told me it had been in his family's possession for generations," said Magdalena.
"The only explanation," said the H-men slowly, "is that the Jesuit descends from those who, according to the codex and the Popol Vuh, must never be named—the Lords of Xibalbá, who first forged the K'abalil K'uh so that Buluk Chabtan might destroy the world."
The gathering stirred uneasily. Then the maiden spoke.
"We stand at the end of the Oxlajuj B'aktun," she said. "Our world has ended. The gods have chosen to depart, and we face a reordering of creation—the Tz'ak Tun. I dream constantly of heartless men seeking the relic: some from the sea, others dark men of faith, and others still—ambitious rogues. And only you, Ixzel, will know how to guard the relic against them."
All present lowered their heads.
"I entrust to you the key that was given to me for safekeeping."
The girl drew a deep breath, struggling to steady herself.
"You will embark on a long journey, Ixzel," said the H-men. "It is written in your destiny. You must keep the secret that has been given to you. Many will come seeking it. Something on the horizon has opened a portal—one that lets the Lords of Xibalbá whisper through deceit and promise, begging to be freed. The danger will come when someone lets them pass; then chaos will reign."
Magdalena looked around, bewildered.
"But the Jesuit already carries a key…" she said.
"But he does not yet know who he is," replied the H-men.
The Ah'Nab' approached Magdalena and placed her hands on the girl's shoulders as she held the box.
"You are the last of the maidens who guarded the sacred cenote," she said softly. "You must keep this key. There is great danger in the relic's existence, yet I trust you will endure."
"And what am I supposed to do?" asked Magdalena.
"For now, wait—the moment will come," said the H-men.
"Not for long," added one of the men. "The Spaniards must already be inquiring about it."
Outside, the wind continued to bring rain, as if the ancient gods themselves had given their consent. And as the thunder receded into the jungle, Magdalena—Ixzel—realized that her destiny was no longer hers.