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When Mualani stabbed him in his first life, Kinich mistook her for an angel.

In the bloody plains of Natlan’s battlefields, it was easy to hallucinate. Reality was malleable when one’s mind was wired to stay alive. And Kinich, the runt of the Huitzlan, the most inexperienced of all the warriors, had the worst of it.

On the day Kinich died, the Huitzlan had raided the Metzli. The latter had not been expecting such a large-scale attack and were thus obliterated. Their famed springs were stained with blood. Corpses were scattered across their huts. The evening sky was an orange-red hue that reflected the violence below.

It was not a place where you find angels. And yet when Kinich sparred against a warrior of the springs, he found himself wondering if she had been one anyway.

His memories of his first life were a blur. A disconnected series of images and scenes that have been replayed again and again over his lives. But he still remembered some things with certainty.

The way she glided through the air when she flung her projectiles. Her movements were graceful, like those of a dancer instead of a warrior. Her fierce look, although he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. Was it green like the once emerald plains of Natlan? Was it blue like the sky, red like blood? Her blue hair, so pale it was practically white, granted Kinich the impression that it was holy. That she was holy.

It was easy to think he’d been sparring with an angel, especially when the knife materialized out of thin air, and that he felt nothing even as a cloud of red grew from the blade protruding from his stomach.

He did, however, feel himself fall. But it had been slowed down, arms cushioning his descent. He felt droplets on his face, like rain, along with muttering.

“Please, please, forgive me, forgive me.”

Through his blurred, dying vision, Kinich could make out a figure in blue, her hair as white as bone, illuminated orange by the setting sun behind.

He never found out what her name was in that lifetime.

During his second life, the Metzli raided the Huitzlan first. The latter had departed on a mission to rob the Teteocan of their mineral resources, leaving their base unguarded.

In this life, Kinich had developed a stronger social standing, although not much better than the one in his past life. Thus, he’d been among those left in the rear. But it was not the worst thing to happen to him, for five minutes into the battle he caught a glimpse of the white-haired girl again.

This time, he knew he wasn’t hallucinating. He knew because he grabbed the girl’s shoulder, and the warmth he felt was real. There was no way an angel could feel so human.

The following battle was harrowing. It had happened earlier in this lifetime— Kinich hadn’t had enough time to train, to build his muscles, to hone his skills. The girl was as tough as she had been in her previous life, if not crueler. She aimed for all his weak spots and left him no room to breathe. For a moment, he wondered if some part of her knew she’d been here before.

Kinich wanted to set down his claymore and surrender. He wanted to stop fighting her, stop fighting at all. He wanted to scream at her, Do you remember me from your past life, do you remember killing me, do you remember begging me for forgiveness, do you remember do you remember do you remember.

Instead, Kinich ran his claymore through the girl’s chest, because she had pulled her knife from her back and he was unwilling to repeat the same mistake.

But perhaps he should have let it happen. He should have let her kill him. Then he wouldn’t be setting her to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks and splashing onto her face, muttering “Please, please, forgive me, forgive me,” the way she did when she killed him. Then he wouldn’t watch as the life departed from her body, confirming her mortality.

In that lifetime, Kinich didn’t learn what her name was. He did learn, however, that her eyes were blue and orange, the color of her tribe’s springs and the setting sun.

Kinich returns to life for a third time, then a sixth, then a tenth, then eventually he begins to lose count. In every life, the Huitzlan and the Metzli would go to war, and the result would be a bloody decimation. In every life, Kinich would die in that altercation. In every life, he encounters the girl with the pale hair, and in some lives she kills him, or he kills her. In all those lives, Kinich would always search the girl’s face for any semblance of recognition, a sign that she too was aware of this endless cycle of purgatory. But in every life, nothing in her amber-sapphire eyes told him that she’d known him in the previous, that he wasn’t alone in this endless limbo of living and dying and killing. And in all those countless lives, he could never find out what her name was.

In one of his later lifetimes, Kinich murders his father.

His memories of his lives were nebulous and malleable, victim to introspection. But as he lived through more of them he noticed they began the same way. His parents were happy. They nurtured him, cared about him. They wanted him to live as a successful warrior, one whose name would invoke fear in the hearts of the other tribes. Then his father became a gambling addict, and his mother abandoned her son to save her own life. Eventually, his father would attempt to kill him.

In his previous lives, Kinich had always managed to escape, always managed to find a way to elude his cruel father. But in this life, it would be different. In this life, he would kill his father.

This is also the lifetime when he makes the deal with Ajaw.

One day, while searching the tribe for unsuspecting warriors to rob of their pockets of gold, he decided to explore the ruins etched in the cliffsides, a good way away from the tribe’s center. The elders had warned the children that it was a dangerous place, that no one should attempt to traverse their labyrinthine interiors, even the children of the extreme Huitzlan.

Kinich had heeded their warnings before, but he’s lived enough now to know that if he died, he would always come back. And so he entered the ruins.

An hour into his adventuring, nursing a gaping hole in his stomach he received from a gruesome trap, Kinich realized his grave mistake. In all his other lives, he’d died in the clash between the Huitzlan and the Metzli. Even if their battlefields depended on who was raiding the other, he’s never died outside of that battle. If he died now, there was a chance he would never restart his life again.

The idea of death frightened him all of a sudden. Overwhelmed him as he lay against the stone walls, feeling the lifeblood seep into the ground around him. He was only eleven, maybe twelve, in this lifetime. In those recurring battles where he’d seen the angel girl with the pale hair and the gemstone eyes, he had always been seventeen, sometimes eighteen. He would not see her in another six years. He should have tried to stay alive for another six years. Now he was never going to see her again, not in what came after his endless lives.

A chilling laugh yanked him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Ooh-hoho, I see we have a romantic in here. Thinking of his lover as he bleeds out… how tragic.

Kinich could not answer. His mouth was numb. It took a lot of effort to even breathe.

You poor, poor thing. I suppose you have come to summon the aid of the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw, haven’t you?

He still couldn’t answer. His eyes were fluttering shut.

Bah! What use is your mouth if you cannot speak?! Anyway, I would like to make a deal with you, puny mortal. And I’m sure you’re in no position to refuse.

He was dying. Kinich was going to take any chance at life he could get, at least until he dies in that fateful battle.

Ajaw the Almighty Dragonlord set a series of terms and conditions for him. He would grant Kinich his power in exchange that when Kinich died, he would take over his body and unleash terror before the tribes of Natlan, returning the nation to how it was during the Age of the Dragons. It isn’t a deal Kinich would refuse, even if he had the choice. After all, there is no way of knowing what had happened to the worlds he left behind after his death. Ajaw can cause the apocalypse with his body for all he cares.

So that evening Kinich returns home with a mended stomach, a bracelet around his wrist, and a nagging voice in his left ear. When his father emerged from the doorway, his silhouette a dark, imposing thing, Kinich raised his arm and released Ajaw’s might, and finally found peace in his childhood.

Ajaw proved to be a crucial asset to Kinich’s status in his tribe. With the ancient creature’s help, he was able to conquer the warriors who had claimed victory from him before and ascend the ranks. For the next few years, Kinich continued to hone his strength until one day he achieved something he never thought he would, not in any of his lives.

The tribe’s elder called him in one day to the main center. Ajaw had insisted on coming with him, claiming that the elders might harm him and that he would very much like to witness the moment the life seeps out of Kinich’s body. Kinich silenced him through the bracelet, but brought Ajaw along to the meeting anyway.

It turns out that the elder had summoned Kinich not to sacrifice him, but to bestow upon him an Ancient Name.

“Malipo,” the elder says, placing a strange ornament into Kinich’s waiting hands. “It means ‘Turnfire’.”

Kinich inspects the odd stone. It is shaped like a feather, made out of obsidian, and tinged in purple light. He glances surreptitiously at his wrist, but Ajaw is ignoring him.

“Thank you,” Kinich replies, unsure of what else to say.

The elder bows to him. “We thank you, Malipo. One day, you will unite all of Natlan under the rule of the Huitzlan.”

There is a memory he can never purge, even as time marches on like a relentless stampede of Yumkasaurs. It is from his first or second life, when he still cared about his mother and his mother still cared about him. Kinich had been three, maybe four. She’d been in the kitchen prepping dinner while he sat at her feet with a warrior toy.

“Look, mama,” he’d said, showing his mother the figure. “I wanna be him.”

Kinich’s mother had knelt beside him and planted a kiss against his forehead.

“You shall be, my child. You will be the greatest warrior the Huitzlan and all of Natlan have ever seen.”

His bracelet jerks him back to the present, as if Ajaw had known where Kinich’s mind had gone. The freshly named warrior pocketed the stone bearing his new name and stared at the elder in his eyes.

“I will make you proud,” Malipo Kinich said.

He does not. He betrays the tribe when the Metzli raid them.

“What are you doing?!” Ajaw exclaims as Kinich swings through the air, ignoring all the Metzli fighters shooting down his Huitzlan clanmates. “Why aren’t you fighting?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Kinich says.

“Who could you possibly be looking for right now? We’ve got a war to fight, you useless dunderhead! Why did I pick you as my future vessel?!”

Kinich doesn’t respond. He can feel the bracelet on his wrist heat up, like Ajaw is about to explode out of it, but then he spots her.

“There,” he whispers to himself.

“Where?” Ajaw screeches.

Kinich swings forward and lands behind her. He watches where she lies on the ground, a pool of blood forming from the hole in her stomach.

“Her?” Ajaw says. “She’s… a warrior of the springs! Hey, Kinich, what are you—”

Kinich pulls his scarf from his neck and presses it against her injury. He watches her blink blearily, aware of a sudden presence. Her eyes widen at his green clothes, and she shoves him away. She hisses through her teeth, biting her tongue at the pain.

“Let me help you,” Kinich says.

“Who are you?” The girl demands. Her voice drips with anger, but also exhaustion.

Countless lives had taught Kinich that power and violence were almost always the answer. His father was killed by his hand. He received his Ancient Name because of his deal with Ajaw. But perhaps power and violence were also the reasons he was trapped in this endless cycle, fated to end the life of the girl before him or have his life ended by her. Either way, Kinich wanted out of this. And perhaps the first way out of it was to not lay a hand on her.

“My name is Kinich.” He says. “I am a Huitzlan warrior.”

The girl shifts, her expressions contorting in pain. “Why won’t you just kill me? Do you enjoy seeing your prey writhing around before you slaughter them?”

“I don’t!” Ajaw howls. “Come on, Kinich, why are you taking your time—”

“I’m going to carry you out of this place,” Kinich tells the girl. “I will nurse you back to life. I only ask that you spare mine.”

The girl stares at him. Ajaw seems to fall silent. Kinich could almost imagine the dragon’s hologram’s jaw dropping.

“You want to help me,” the girl says.

“Preposterous!” Ajaw yelped. “Kinich, your honor! Your tribe!”

“My tribe does not matter,” Kinich says, much to Ajaw’s chagrin. “I am tired of fighting.”

The girl continues to stare at him, and it takes much of Kinich’s strength not to look away. Her eyes which have long captivated him were searching now, trying to dissect him for the truth. Kinich allows himself to be gazed upon, for the truth to be found.

“Okay,” the girl says, wincing once again as she shifts her position. “I suppose I have no other choice.”

“You’re insane,” Ajaw says as Kinich loops his arms under the girl’s legs. “Insane, that’s what you are.”

Perhaps Kinich is insane. But who wouldn’t be, living through the same life over and over again, without an end in sight? And who wouldn’t covet the one person who shows up to repeat this cycle, to search for the truth as to why this is happening to him?

Kinich finds a cave in one of the nearby canyons to set up camp. The Metzli girl stays quiet as he arranges the clothes he stored in his belt into a makeshift bed. She stays quiet, even as Kinich nurses her wounds and mumbles to himself, or rather to Ajaw. She stays quiet, even as Kinich sets up a fire and roasts jerky. She remains quiet until he offers her his food, and inches away from him, even though her back was already against the wall.

“Just because you saved me, it doesn’t mean I like you now,” the girl says.

Kinich nods. “I understand.”

They continue to sit in silence, save for the crackling fire. Kinich looks out through the mouth of the cave. Away from the battlefield, the night sky is a cluster of stars against a black-blue backdrop. Kinich had never seen the sky like this on the day he usually dies. The zenith had always been a streak of red, a reflection of violence. When he turns back to the girl, he notices she is also staring at the sky. She flinches when he looks at her, flustered.

“Can you tell me your name, at least?” He asks. “You know of mine.”

The girl purses her lips. She stares at the stars again. He wonders if she too knows she never usually lives past this moment.

“Mualani,” she says. “My name is Mualani.”

At last, Kinich knows her name.

It takes a while for Mualani to recover from her wound. Kinich spent days treating it, dedicating ample amounts of time to ensure the infection stays away. The days went on almost monotonously, with the two of them (and Ajaw) repeating the same schedule. Kinich wakes up. He goes hunting for food and supplies. He comes back to see Mualani awake, oftentimes still looking at him as though expecting that he’d do a 180º and stab her in her sleep, before he applies the soothing medicine on her skin. Then Kinich would make dinner, and they would both eat under the light of the stars, before Mualani tucks herself to bed and Kinich sleeps on the opposite side of the cave. Ajaw makes a point to mention how uncommon it was for Kinich to act in such a way.

“You value your time more than anything,” Ajaw says, one day while Kinich was gathering mint flowers. “Especially with making yourself the best in the tribe. Before you betrayed them, at least. Now we’re doing nothing in this stupid place but taking care of that stupid girl.”

“Don’t call her stupid,” Kinich says.

“She literally thought that herb you gave her for wounds was something to eat on that first night.”

“That’s called differences in tribal customs. I heard the Metzli often use it to season their food.”

“Bah! Tribal customs! Even she should have common sense to know that we work differently!”

Arguing with Ajaw is a battle one could not possibly win, so Kinich ignores him.

Mualani isn’t stupid. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to kill him in his more recent lives. So when Kinich returns to the cave after hunting for game to see that she has gone, he is not surprised.

“She’s got you fooled, Kinich!” Ajaw hollers. “Oh, you’re done now. They’re going to find out what you’ve done, and you’re going to be slaughtered, your Ancient Name revoked—”

“Shut up,” Kinich says.

Mualani may have been mostly healed, but she would not have had enough strength to go too far away. Kinich only made it a few swings in the air before he spotted her limping through the grassy plains. It appeared that she had attempted to slide her way to freedom on a phlogiston path, but she had either run out of fuel or her injury was giving her too much of a hard time. It may have been the latter, because she sighed in defeat and collapsed on the ground when Kinich landed in front of her.

“Fine,” Mualani growls. “You win. Take me back to your cave prison. Torture me, kill me, whatever.”

“She gave in pretty fast,” Ajaw notes.

Kinich swats Mualani’s hands away from her stomach. Bits of red had seeped through the clothes he tied around her waist.

“Didn’t I tell you that too much exertion at this time was going to reopen your wounds?” He snaps at her.

Mualani is taken aback at the comment. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“I didn’t save you from the battlefield just for you to bleed out here.” Kinich eyes the area around them. They were exposed to the elements; if any of the tribes were loitering nearby and they weren’t prepared…

“I just don’t understand,” Mualani says. Her tone held so much exasperation as she looked at him. “Why did you save me? I was killing your people.”

Mualani is terribly loyal to her tribe, as most of the Natlanese are. That was perhaps the one thing all their people had in common, besides inhabiting the same swathe of land. Your loyalty lies first and foremost to your people, always, no matter what. Of course, she didn’t understand why someone from an enemy tribe would blatantly disobey that rule. It was unthinkable. As Kinich stares at her, he wonders if maybe she didn’t remember him at all, and that he had truly been alone in his countless lives. And yet, he still wanted her to know.

“Because in a different life, I killed you, or you killed me, and it never ends well for our people,” Kinich says. “I wanted to change the outcome.”

She looks at him. He looks back. On instinct, he scans her features in case by some miracle she did recognize him. Please see me. Please remember me. Please tell me I’m not alone.

“And how do you know whether saving me matters?” Mualani asks.

It is not a definite answer, but it fills Kinich with hope regardless. He reaches forward and loops his arm under her legs and back. She doesn’t complain, only wincing as her arm hovers over her wound.

“I don’t,” Kinich says. “But it’s worth a try.”

It would be a lie to claim that she opened up to him right away after that. But there were days when he would find a meal waiting for him as soon as he woke up, or evenings when she would invite him to paint illustrations on the cave walls. There were still the days when she cooped herself up in one corner of the cave, keeping herself trapped in her own thoughts, but those have become a less common occurrence. Most days, she would sit near the fire with him, both of them not talking, instead enjoying the stillness the night has to offer, making peace with each other’s company.

A few weeks after the battle between their tribes, Mualani’s stomach had finally healed completely. When Kinich asked her about when she was leaving, she had only looked at him as though he was trying to court a Saurian.

“I can’t go back anymore,” Mualani said. “Even if I wanted to, they’ll think of me as a traitor.”

“You were injured.”

“I could have gone back to the tribe any time in the last two weeks, when my wound was lighter.”

“Then why’re you still here?”

“I can’t leave you alone out here to fend for yourself, can I?”

Kinich thought he heard her wrong. “What?”

“You can’t survive out here on your own.” Mualani’s face was turned away from him now, as though embarrassed she said anything in the first place. “You’ll be bored without me.”

There was a smile on her lips. Kinich didn’t think she had any playfulness in her. But perhaps the tough warrior façade she’d been putting up was just a defense mechanism. His chest warmed.

“Okay,” Kinich said. “Okay.”

“Hey, I’m still here, you know!” Ajaw shrieked in Kinich’s head. “You won’t be alone anyway because I’m here!”

Kinich covered his mouth to hide his smile. Mualani finally looked back at him.

“You know, your eyes are really pretty,” she blurted. “They’re green and orange, like a blend of your tribe’s colors and a sunset.”

Kinich stared at her. He only realized he spent too long without responding when she stood up so abruptly it could have torn open her mended stomach.

“Forget I said anything,” she said, walking away. “Good night, Kinich.”

“Good night,” he stammered back, still confused. But as soon as he was comfortable under his blankets, he couldn’t help but smile himself to sleep.

Then one day, Mualani goes out to hunt and disappears for hours, and Kinich briefly wonders if the moments they shared had been a lie concocted in his head.

“You’ve grown soft,” Ajaw sniffs as Kinich swings through the air on his father’s grappling hook. “Seriously, did you think that girl really liked you? She was probably only using you to get what she wanted.”

“Will you stop that,” Kinich says. “She probably got attacked or something.”

“Oh sure. Definitely.”

Luckily for Kinich, Ajaw’s doubt had been well misplaced. He locates a fight on the ground, set between two canyons that separate the Huitzlan and the Nanatzcayan. There was a gang of brown-clad warriors swinging their weapons against a girl with pale hair and blue clothes.

“Mualani.” Kinich finds himself whispering her name.

He lands in time as Mualani swings a tiny girl with a bloodied leg away from a large warrior with a hefty spear. Kinich latches his grappling hook onto the warrior and slices him down with his claymore. Mualani shoots him a grateful smile that made him forget what he was doing for five seconds, until the rest of the warriors bounded towards them, swinging. They make their retreat, escaping with the girl hanging onto Mualani’s back.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” Mualani says as soon as they arrive at their cave. “I overheard them plotting to throw her off a canyon as a sacrifice, and I couldn’t let that happen, so I was following them—”

“You made the correct decision,” Kinich interrupts. He gestures to the girl, who Mualani sets down on a bundle of blankets. She looks up at Kinich and Mualani with wide eyes and a trembling lip.

“I… I don’t taste any good!” The girl exclaims. “Please don’t eat me!”

Mualani bursts out laughing, startling both the girl and Kinich. “What? What are you talking about? We don’t eat people.”

“But, but… I thought the Metzli were a gluttonous tribe…?”

“That’s the Teteocan,” Mualani says. “Although I don’t think they eat people. Where did you get that idea?”

The girl shakes her head. “I don’t know. It’s common knowledge among our people.”

“Well, it’s not the truth,” Kinich says. “We don’t want to hurt you. On the contrary, we would like to save your life.”

“Save my life?” The girl asks. “But I’m not in danger?”

“Your right leg,” Mualani says. “Can we take a look at it?”

“I mean, sure,” the girl says, sticking her profusely bleeding right leg out towards them. “Although I’m sure it’s nothing too bad, I don’t feel anyt—” She takes a double take and faints forward into Mualani’s arms.

“I’ll take care of her,” Kinich insists, taking the girl from Mualani’s arms. “You should also rest up. It’s been a tiring day.”

“I’m not leaving you to do all the work,” she counters.

So Mualani cooks dinner that night, while Kinich works on treating the little girl’s injuries. She had minor wounds on other parts of her body she likely gained from her tribespeople who tried to sacrifice her, a fact that filled Kinich with sudden hot anger. The girl stirs awake just as he finishes tightening the makeshift bandage. She yelps so loud he feels like his eardrums might shatter.

“Don’t move it around too much,” Kinich tells her as he rubs the side of his head. “I’ve ensured it’s not infected, but I don’t have the salve to speed the healing. I will make sure to get it for you tomorrow.”

The girl looks up at Kinich blankly. For a while, he wonders if her tribe spoke a different language and that their earlier conversation was a result of her deliriousness.

“Rest,” Kinich asserts, hoping that she understands what that word means, and turns towards the fire for dinner. He could already smell the meat and the carrots he brought from earlier that day.

“Wait!” The girl nearly falls over as she tries to grab Kinich’s attention. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so rude. Thank you for helping me and… not letting me bleed out. I— that would’ve been really bad. For me. So thanks. A lot.”

“It’s no problem,” Kinich says, simply relieved that he hadn’t said all those words for nothing.

She looks up at him like she wants to say something. It takes her a few minutes to get the words out.

“It’s just… I’ve always been told the other tribes were violent and cruel and barbaric. I couldn’t believe that you’re so… friendly.”

Kinich doesn’t say anything. The girl takes it to mean that he was offended, and starts rambling again.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me! I didn’t mean to—”

“I just saved your life,” he interrupts. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Hey,” Mualani greets as she materializes next to Kinich, holding a bowl. “Here’s some braised stew. Eat.”

The girl is tentative at first, but then she takes a bite and doesn’t stop until the bowl is empty. Mualani offers her seconds, and she gobbles that down too.

“By the way,” Mualani says once they’ve had their fill and the fire has been reduced to ashes and a few crackling embers. “I don’t think we caught your name?”

“Kachina,” the girl says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. There is a little more life in her face now.

“Pleased to meet you, Kachina,” Mualani grins. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

Over the next few days, while waiting for Kachina’s wound to heal, the tiny girl introduces herself and tells Kinich and Mualani about her story. She is around fifteen years old, was a part of the Nanatzcayan, and was granted an Ancient Name not long before. Despite the latter, she explains that her power is weak and she is dubbed useless by the tribe. Thus occurred the situation Mualani found her in.

“They were willing to sacrifice you just because you didn’t meet their fighting standards?” Mualani exclaims. “That’s not right.”

“That’s just how it is back home,” Kachina says. She doesn’t look particularly upset, merely stating it like a fact. “Only the strong survive.”

Mualani shakes her head. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Your tribe practices that idea as well, doesn’t it?” Kinich reminds her. “With the high temperature springs?”

Mualani opens her mouth to protest, then closes it.

“So does my tribe,” he adds. “Those who fail our extreme sports courses are subjected to death.”

“Death?” Kachina exclaims.

“The more I hear about each of our tribes, the more I think no one’s in the right,” Mualani says.

Kinich turns to her. “What do you mean by that?”

Mualani shrugs. “I always thought my tribe was right to raid all the others. That we were going to spread our rightful culture to the rest of Natlan. But that’s not true, is it? We’re just as flawed as you are.”

Kinich thinks about the battle he always dies on. He fiddles with his bracelet as he thinks, much to Ajaw’s chagrin.

“Stop that, it tickles!” Ajaw hisses, buzzing in protest.

“Then what do we do about it?” Kachina asks.

“Maybe there’s nothing to do about it,” Kinich says. “We’re only three people. What can we change?”

“There has to be something we can do.” Mualani frowns. “Don’t be so pessimistic.”

“I’m just being realistic.” After all, in all those lives he lived before, one of the most consistent things was how violently the tribes hated one another in each life. Kinich had no faith that was going to change in the next life, if there was going to be one.

“Well, I’m with Mualani on this one,” Kachina says, eyes bright. “If the three of us can be from different tribes and be friends with each other, can’t our tribes do the same eventually?”

Kinich looks at Kachina, then Mualani. Perhaps they were right. In his previous lives, he never saved Mualani, who never saved Kachina. Perhaps this was the catalyst for changing everything.

“I sure hope so,” Mualani says. Her face is so hopeful, so positive about this possible future ahead of them, that Kinich couldn’t look away, not even when she caught him looking. All he could do was manage a smile back, hoping against hope that they were right, that there was a future where their tribes lived happily with one another.

The next evening, after returning from a successful hunt, Kinich is greeted at the entrance of the cave by the smell of blood.

At first, he thought he was mistaken. Maybe it was metal; the spear they found for Kachina in a nearby ruin had an extremely potent smell. Or maybe it was some of the berries Mualani had brought back; those also had scents that were easily mistaken for iron. Or maybe it was only the scent of the meat he carried on his back, and the adrenaline still flowing through his veins was the reason for his paranoia.

But then he sees the crimson splatters at the entrance, the very specific color he’s seen on battlefields countless times, and that is when he knows for sure that he hadn’t imagined the smell.

Kinich could feel his heartbeat pounding against his skull. Even Ajaw is silent, not even a buzzing to indicate his opinions on the matter. That was when he finally grasped the gravity of the situation.

“Mualani?” Kinich calls. He tightens his grip around his claymore in case someone launches a surprise attack against him. “Kachina?”

A rustle. He turns with his weapon high in the air, but it is just the tree branches above him. His boots squelch lightly against the red as he slips into the cave.

The first dead bodies he sees are those of the Tlalocan. Kinich recognizes Mualani’s handiwork almost immediately; the projectiles that had burst his skin and taken his life so many times, its notable signs now all over these fallen warriors. Kinich is hit with a sense of pride and near relief. If she was able to slay all these warriors so easily, she must have been alive.

Then he sees Kachina’s broken body near the cinders of their bonfire.

Kinich rushes towards her, but he knew before he even reached her body that she was dead. She would have stirred when she heard her name being called, but she had been silent. Kinich runs his fingers over the girl’s brow, closing her half-lidded eyes and agape mouth. Her limbs are bent in inhumane angles, and the gash on her chest is worse than the leg wound she received all those weeks ago. Kinich swallows, fighting the wave welling up behind his eyes. Kachina didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve this at all.

“Kin… ich—”

He locates Mualani almost instantly. She is propped against the wall not far from where Kachina lay. Still alive, but not looking much better. Her neck is stained with blood, like someone had gouged a chunk of her flesh from her throat. Her legs were also broken, similar to how Kachina’s legs had been. Even her clothes and hair were stained with blood. The only part of her that seems unchanged is her eyes, still the blue and orange Kinich remembered from his early lives.

“Hey,” Kinich says, swallowing his panic as he scans her body. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” Mualani responds. Her eyes flutter rapidly.

“No, Mualani, don’t fall asleep.” He shoves his panic deeper down his gut as he pats around the cave for the clothes. “I need you to stay with me, alright?”

“Kinich…” Mualani says. Her fingers graze his shoulder. “Look at… me.”

Kinich looks at her, really looks at her. She is bleeding from her throat. It is a miracle that she could even speak at all. Her fingers tilt his chin so that their gazes would meet.

“Do you…” She coughs, splurting blood onto Kinich’s lips. “Past lives. Do… you believe in… them?”

“I do,” he says, reaching up to hold her wrist. She is still warm. A part of Kinich wants to fight for her, to fight for the life still contained in her body. But the fact remains that it is too late. It is much too late. Which means he has nothing left to lose now.

Kinich inhales deeply and spills all of it to her. How this is not the first time he has lived. How his life seems to repeat the same course, again and again and again. How he always meets her on that battlefield between their tribes in all those lives. How their lives always ended on that battlefield, and how they either kill the other, or get killed by the other. Mualani’s eyes don’t leave his face as he tells her everything as quickly as he can, before she leaves this life for good.

“I… dream.” Mualani coughs again, more blood staining Kinich’s clothes.

“Dream?” Kinich prompts. “You dream? What do you dream about?”

Mualani presses her finger against Kinich’s chest. She never takes his eyes off him.

“Me? You dream about me?”

“Past,” Mualani whispers. “Past.”

“You’ve dreamt of our past lives.”

Mualani nods. Her eyes are drooping again.

“Wait.” Kinich grabs her wrist, tight enough to send her eyes flying open again. “I need you to kill me.”

She blinks languidly, not understanding.

“Either I kill you, or you kill me. That’s what resets my lives. I need you to do it. Otherwise, I won’t remember you in the next.”

Mualani shakes her head. He could see the tears in her eyes.

“Please.” Kinich pulls a knife from his waist and presses it against Mualani’s palm. “I can’t let this be my last life. This can’t be the one that counts. Please, Mualani. Lani.”

Her lips are pressed together in her effort not to cry. But she holds the knife in both hands, shaking, and leans the tip against Kinich’s chest. He closes his eyes.

“Ajaw, you may take my body,” he says. To Mualani, he whispers, “I’ll see you in the next life.”

“Wait!” Ajaw exclaims in his head. He began trembling violently against Kinich’s wrist.

Mualani plunges the knife deep into Kinich’s chest.

He chokes, blood gurgling up his throat almost immediately. He grins at Mualani, his thumb sweeping the bangs off her forehead.

“That’s my girl,” Kinich manages before he falls to the ground next to her.

He didn’t know how long Mualani had been dead for as he lay there, still bleeding, one hand on her stomach and the other in her hair. She hadn’t moved in a while. It mustn’t have been a long time, but time worked weirdly for Kinich. Some lives were merely a second, but this second felt like an entire lifetime. Orange light had filled the cave, illuminating the drawings he, Kachina, and Mualani had done on the cave walls. The longer he stares at them, the more his chest aches, and not because of the gaping hole in his chest. He closes his eyes and prays to whatever gods existed in this cursed world that he could repeat the fortunes he built in this life in the next, and that he’ll remember. As long as he remembers.

His prayers must have worked because Kinich wakes up in his childhood bedroom, at five years old, with a stuffed Huitzlan warrior lying on his chest. He’s repeated so many lives that he no longer remembers the starting point. But this must have been it. Five years old, bedroom chamber, still feeling the ghost of the wound on his chest. Kinich sits up and feels a strange weight around his wrist. He looks down to see Ajaw’s bracelet staring up at him.

“What are you playing at?!” Ajaw screeches as his holographic figure materializes before him.

Kinich jumps so high he falls off his bed, knocking into his bedside table with a loud clatter.

“Kinich!” A male voice hollers, further startling Kinich. “What was that I heard?”

“Nothing, Dad!” Kinich responds on impulse. He stares at Ajaw, who was waiting inquisitively.

“Do you remember me?” Kinich asks.

“Of course I do, what do you take me for?” Ajaw snarls.

Kinich wracks his brain and the lives he remembered for anything remotely similar that happened to him before. He couldn’t find anything. Most of them had been so similar they blurred together. In every life, he was the only one who appeared to remember anything. But in the last one, he made a deal with Ajaw that bound them together. Was that how…?

Kinich grasps his wrist, making Ajaw yelp, “Ouch! What was that for?”

“Do you know what’s happening to me?” He asks. “Do you know why I’m repeating my lives like this?”

“Why are you asking me?” Ajaw snaps. “Do I look like an All-Knowing God to you?”

“Isn’t that what you say you are?”

“No, I’m The Great and All-Powerful Dragon Lord K’uhul Ajaw! Get that right, lowly servant!”

Kinich stares at Ajaw. Then he couldn’t help himself. He starts laughing.

“What are you laughing at? Hey! Kinich! Shut up!”

Kinich doesn’t. He continues laughing so hard he has to curl up into his stomach to control the spasms. Ajaw has given up ordering him to stop and is now waiting impatiently.

“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Ajaw says once Kinich had finally calmed himself.

Kinich leans his head against his bed. “I don’t either.”

“Then was all that laughing for show?!”

“I think I’m hysterical from relief.”

“Relief. And what are you relieved about?”

“That I’m not starting this new life alone.” When Ajaw doesn’t respond, Kinich elaborates. “You remember me. No one’s ever remembered me from a previous life before.”

Ajaw remains silent. Kinich nudges the bracelet and Ajaw’s hologram glares at him.

“You’re cursed, Kinich,” Ajaw says. “I can’t take control of your body until you absolutely die, and you can’t die if you keep restarting your life.”

“So you do know what’s happening to me?”

Ajaw’s hologram makes a weird gesture, as if he were shrugging. “I told you, I may be almighty, but I’m not all-knowing. What I think, however, is that this is the work of someone who’s trying to change the course of history.”

“Change the course of history?” Kinich repeats. “For better or for worse?”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier? I don’t know everything!”

Kinich remains seated and ponders this newfound information. If Ajaw was right, which Kinich doesn’t doubt entirely, then he can’t be the only one alone in this loop. He always thought this was the result of some divine retribution, but what if there was a more grounded explanation for this?

“Kinich,” his mother calls from the other side of his room door. “Are you awake? Come out, it’s time for breakfast.”

“Stay low,” Kinich whispers to Ajaw. “I’ll find a way out of here as soon as I can.”

“What do you take me for, a fool?” Ajaw demands, but he remains silent for the rest of the day.

Kinich lives this life as he did in the previous. A few months after his mother leaves, he kills his father. He moves in with the rest of his tribe and impresses them with his skills. He ascends the ranks. He receives his Ancient Name. He goes into the battle between the Metzli and the Huitzlan, except this time, they were the ones leading the raid.

“It’s different from the last time,” Ajaw says, pointing out the Metzli terrain they had to learn how to navigate on a whim. “How do you suppose you’ll find her?”

The memory of Mualani’s last moments replays before Kinich’s eyes as clear as it was when he witnessed it the first time.

“You’ll have to help me with that,” Kinich says. He eyes the red skies; not much about that has changed. “Ready?”

“Bah,” Ajaw grumbles. “You have no respect for the Almighty Dragonlord, ordering me around like this!”

Regardless, Ajaw ascends out of Kinich’s bracelet as a fully fledged holographic dragon, blasting anything and everything in his path but not destroying them completely. Kinich still had to wade through the Metzli warriors, although he took care not to fatally injure them, only wound them to the point where they couldn’t fight back. His heart stutters whenever he sees someone who looks just like Mualani, only to realize it wasn’t her. This proved to be nearly fatal, as his hesitation often bought precious few seconds to escape unscathed.

“Kinich!” Ajaw hollers. “I see her!”

Kinich drags his gaze to where Ajaw was blasting at and throws himself in that direction with his grappling hook. Numerous sensations fill his senses— the wind in his hair, the light nausea in his stomach, the thrill in his chest— but all he could focus on is the pounding in his head, accompanied by a single name: Mualani, Mualani, Mualani.

He spots her, surrounded by three Huitzlan warriors. She is as regal as she looked the first time he saw her, and for a moment, Kinich forgot where he was. They are the only two people who existed in that space, a fierce girl and the boy who’s been chasing her throughout all his lives.

“KINICH!” Ajaw bellows as a Huitzlan warrior raises a spear towards Mualani’s back.

His response time is instant. The grappling hook he shot knocks the spear out of the air, followed soon by Kinich, who kicks the warrior into oblivion. The other two yelp at him in recognition, but Ajaw knocks them out with more blasts before returning to Kinich’s bracelet.

“I’m done,” Ajaw pants like he just ran a thousand miles. “That’s it. Lord Ajaw is exhausted.”

“Who are you?” Mualani asks, pointing a knife at Kinich’s chin.

Kinich searches her face. “Do you still not remember me?”

Mualani frowns. “No? You’re from a different tribe?”

“I see,” Kinich says. He doesn’t know what to say next. In the last life, she had been gravely injured, and that was his excuse to take her out of the battlefield. But this time, she was perfectly fine, and in the perfect condition to slit his throat if she wanted to. The longer they stand there, the more the sounds of the battlefield press against Kinich’s senses, reminding him that they aren’t safe.

“Why did you save me?” Mualani asks. This time, the point of the knife touches Kinich’s skin. If he leans forward, it will surely draw blood.

“Is that why you haven’t killed me?” Kinich asks. “In previous lives, you never hesitated.”

Mualani narrows her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve dreamt this before, haven’t you? This battle. This life. This encounter between us.”

She stares at him. For a moment, he thought he had it at last, that she did remember him and that she would follow him to find Kachina, and they could all continue living in that cave in peace for the rest of time. But then she pulls the knife back and swipes it at him, nearly slitting his throat open.

“Blast, Kinich, you’re hopeless!” Ajaw expels himself from the wristband and blasts Mualani, knocking her out cold.

“What did you do that for?” Kinich demands, leaning down to check if she is alright.

“You were taking too long,” Ajaw spat. “She’s not dead, just out cold.”

“I almost had her,” Kinich says. “She was remembering me. It’s going to be harder to convince her later now that you’ve done that.”

“Bah! She can’t see me, remember? Just say that one of her fellow Metzli warriors tried to kill her, and you saved her. Simple as that.”

Kinich wants to argue against his stupid dragon and his stupid solutions, but the sounds of the battle are drowning his senses and he has a feeling that if they didn’t get out of there soon, they would die and they would have to restart from scratch. So Kinich lugs Mualani on his back and prepares to swing out of there.

“Kinich Malipo!”

A voice he had never heard before calls out to him. Just as he turns around, an icy air envelopes his face, and then he is out cold.

“What did you give him?”

“Just a dose of cryo sleep powder, why?”

“My flames can’t thaw through it. I think you might have overdosed him.”

“Overdosing on this isn’t anything to worry about; he’ll thaw out eventually. I mean, we’re on a volcanic island, for Wayob’s sake.”

“We can’t just stick him in the lava to wake him up.”

Kinich blinks blearily. The world around him is a blur, but he could make out a tall flaming-haired woman and a shorter blue-clad woman with various accessories dangling from her person. His movements feel overwhelmingly slowed down. He tries to raise his arms, but he can’t feel them move.

“Oh, would you look at that, he’s awake.” The voice came from the heavily accessorized woman. “I told you he’ll be fine.”

“Kinich, can you hear me?” The flaming-haired woman leans in closer to Kinich’s face.

He makes a grunting noise from the back of his throat. He can’t move his lips.

“Sorry about that. We had to knock you out cold to bring you here. It was a long journey.” The woman lowers her voice to hiss at her companion. “Is there a way to get the ice to thaw out faster?”

“Since you’re so impatient, I’ll give you another solution.”

A palm proceeds to slap Kinich’s face so hard it knocks his vision back into clarity. He blinks rapidly as he stares at the two strangers, both of whom are starting to seem more suspicious as he continues to interact with them.

“You couldn’t have started with that?” The flaming-haired woman sighed.

“Where’s the fun in that?” The accessorized woman asked. She turned to Kinich. “My name’s Citlali. I’m a shaman from the Mictlan. And this is Mavuika. She’s—”

“The soon-to-be Pyro Archon,” Mavuika interrupted. “At least, I hope to be. As soon as we find a way out of this predicament.”

Kinich sits up swiftly, his hand flying to his wristband. His palm slaps into blank skin. He stares down at the lighter skin where Ajaw would have been.

“Where—?”

“Your ancient relic’s sitting over here.” Citlali gestures to the bedside table, grunting with annoyance.

Kinich looks around him. He seems to be in some kind of house, although he didn’t quite recognize the architecture. Then he remembers what else had transpired before.

“Where’s Mualani?” Kinich demands. “What did you do to her?”

“Your girlfriend is fine,” Citlali grumbles, pointing to the opposite bed where Mualani lies. Kinich moves to approach her, but Citlali shoves him back against the bed. “Not so fast. She’s still recovering from the cryo sleep powder. You don’t want to send her into shock.”

“You don’t understand,” Kinich says. “Mualani and I can’t stay here. We have to go.”

“Go where?” Mavuika asks.

“Go— go save someone. She’s in danger.” How long had he been out? Had the Nanatzcayan already sacrificed Kachina? Were they too late? Did he have to die and redo everything?

“If you’re talking about Kachina, she’s alright,” Citlali says. “We have people taking care of her, don’t worry.”

Kinich stares. “How did you know?”

“She didn’t,” Mavuika says. “I did.”

He switches his gaze towards her. Her irises are akin to those of twin blazing suns, a motif accompanied by her flaming hair and fiery earrings and serrated necklaces. This isn’t a regular Natlan warrior. The more Kinich looks at her, the more certain he is of this fact.

“Who are you again?” he asks.

“Mavuika, soon-to-be Pyro Archon,” she says, a grin on her face. “I intend to bring all the Natlan tribes into a united nation.”

A messenger later arrives with news of Kachina’s rescue, so Mavuika leaves to bring her back safely. Kinich finds himself alone with Citlali and a still unconscious Mualani. He steals glances at her, hoping Citlali doesn’t notice. She does.

“You remember your repeated lives, don’t you?” She asks.

Kinich turns to him. “You’re aware of that?”

“Aware of that?” Citlali laughs as she pours herself a cup from an unlabeled bottle. Kinich doesn’t recognize the smell, but he does notice how content she appears after drinking it. She barely sounds melancholic as she continues, “Honey, I’ve lived through three-hundred fifty-six lives.”

“Three hundred— what?”

“That’s not even that much, compared to Mavuika’s thousands.”

Kinich observes Citlali. The woman looks young, not much older than Mualani or even Mavuika. But something about how she carries herself, perhaps in the way she sits, exudes her actual age. She catches him staring at her and offers the cup towards him.

“No thanks,” Kinich says. “I want to know why we keep restarting our lives.”

Citlali frowns. “Do you not remember?”

“What?”

“You should remember. It’s the promise the Wayob made before sending us back in time.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Citlali leans against her chair and takes another swig of her cup. This time, she doesn’t look content anymore, but bothered.

“That explains a lot,” she says. “Why you never tried to look for us. You didn’t know.”

“You need to elaborate,” Kinich says.

Citlali slams the cup down on the bedside table and presses her fingers together. “You were one of the warriors who volunteered to come back in time to help Mavuika in her mission to unite our tribes. The Wayobs, guardians of the Night Kingdom, bent the rules of death to make this possible. But something went wrong— Mavuika thinks they must have been affected by the Abyss, and now all of us are trapped in this loop. It appears those weren’t the only complications; they also didn’t do a good job with your memories, I fear.”

Wayobs? Abyss? Kinich wasn’t sure what these things were, but he could always ask her about them later. “I remember details of my past lives.”

“But you don’t remember the ones that matter. You don’t remember why you chose to go on this journey in the first place.”

Kinich falls silent. Was she saying he had a life before what he thought was his first? That this torture he was subjected to was because of what he chose to do?

“Tell me then,” he says. “Why did I choose to do this?”

Citlali turns to Mualani. “Because of her. You wanted to marry her.”

The revelation is not so different from a stab to the chest. Kinich coughs, startled by her bluntness. But then he entertained the idea in his thoughts— did he really do this for her? Did he really reach that point in life with her where they entertained the idea of spending the rest of their lives together? The realization that if it really was true, it meant he didn’t remember a single thing about it, came crashing down on him suddenly. Kinich couldn’t help himself— he wept.

Citlali doesn’t say anything to him. Instead, she places a hand on his shoulder and pulls him in for a hug. Kinich lets her, because he didn’t know what else to do with this sorrow except to release it, expel it from his body, in a vain attempt to never feel this way again.

“That’s why I’m so drawn to her,” Kinich says. “That’s why she’s the only thing I remember so clearly in all my lives.”

“We all have an anchor throughout our lives that keeps us sane or reminds us of who we are,” Citlali says, pulling away from Kinich. She offers her cup again, which he refuses again. “Suit yourself. Mine is a feather, a gift from a longtime friend. Mavuika’s is her ambition to unite the nation. Xilonen’s is her career, whatever it means. Yours must be Mualani’s.”

Kinich turns to Mualani again, still asleep in the bed.

“She didn’t volunteer for this, did she?” He asks. “To go back in time?”

“You wouldn’t let her.” Citlali smiles. “She was stubborn, but you were just as.”

Kinich leans back against the bed again. He closes his eyes and sees the pain, the blood, the violence.

“How do we stop this loop?”

“We have to unite the tribes,” Citlali says. “We have to stop the bloodshed plaguing our nation. It is the ambition that drove Mavuika to make that deal in the first place, and completing it will finally free us from this curse.”

Kinich remembers the conversation with Mualani and Kachina as though it happened yesterday. In the end, it’s returned to this idea of unity and peace. One that Natlan hadn’t known in years, not in the years Kinich lived. But there was a first time for everything.

“Okay,” he agrees. “How do we do that?”

Citlali refrains from explaining the plan to him because Mavuika had prepared to gather the other loop-trapped warriors to the house and wanted to explain it all in one go. So Kinich spent the next few days helping Citlali prepare the dwelling for at least six others to live on. Mualani was there somewhere, but Kinich hadn’t seen her around often. She always managed to disappear, somehow. She could have been avoiding him, but he wasn’t sure.

Kachina arrives a few days later. Kinich ensures she is free of injuries despite her guardian warrior assuring him repeatedly that they had treated her.

“Thank you for your help,” Kinich tells them. He doesn’t move from Kachina’s side until they’ve completely disappeared, to which he kneels in front of her and stares into her eyes.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. The words are paper on his tongue. He is tired of uttering them.

“Not really,” Kachina answers. “But the woman with the fire hair… she says we were really good friends in another life.”

“We were.”

“Can you tell me what happened? Like… how it was like? In that life?”

Kinich offers his hand to her, which she takes tentatively. Her hand is small compared to his, and Kinich is overwhelmed with the urge to shield her for what will inevitably come next.

“I will. Come with me, I’ll take you to your room.”

He takes Kachina to the center of the house. On his way there, he sees Mualani leaning against a doorjamb, watching him as he guides the girl away. She startles when they lock eyes.

“What?” She snaps at him. She stomps away, rubbing her hands on her fiery cheeks.

“Who’s that?” Kachina asks, peering after Mualani.

“Someone you knew in a past life,” Kinich says, still looking after her. It was the first time he had seen her in a week. Who knows what’s going on in her head, really.

Eventually, Mavuika gathers all the loop-trapped warriors. Kinich was surprised that there were at least two members from each tribe among their number, except for Mualani’s. The warriors converse easily with one another, cracking jokes and exchanging anecdotes. There wasn’t a single face among them that he recognized.

“Don’t be too upset about that,” Citlali tells him as they mingle in the living room for Mavuika’s announcement regarding their plan. “There’s a chance none of us might remember this moment later anyway.”

Kinich turns to her. He regrets it almost immediately when he inhales a large whiff of alcohol. “What are you saying?”

Citlali mutters a curse and spits into her bottle. “No. Never mind. Ignore me. Mavuika will tell you.”

“Hey—” Kinich begins, but she manages to slip away easily, for someone who is perpetually drunk.

“Kinich.”

He turns to see Mualani standing before him, arms folded and hip tilted to one side.

“Mualani,” Kinich greets back. He reminds himself to be wary— this version of her doesn’t remember him. It isn’t the same Mualani whom he and Kachina spent painting walls and telling stories and taking naps with. This was the Mualani who would kill him in a heartbeat to save her own skin and her people’s honor.

And yet… he loved this girl enough to marry her, to go back in time to give themselves a better life. Was there maybe some part of her that still recalls him and the love he had for her?

“What do you remember?” She asks. “From your first life?”

“Not much, not anymore.” He knows she wasn’t talking about the “first” one that he remembered, but the original. The one where he was going to marry her. The one that was fiction, not just to her but to him, one that only existed in Citlali and Mavuika’s stories of their original life.

“Try to. Please try to.”

Kinich is taken aback by the desperation in her tone. He allows himself to relax, to lower his guard. He flicks his bracelet, but Ajaw remains silent. He must be asleep.

“Do you remember anything from the previous loop?” He asks her.

Mualani glares at him. “No, because I wasn’t blessed with this power.”

“It’s similar to me. I don’t remember our first life because I wasn’t granted that ability.”

“But you can go back! You go back every time you die! And you recall everything!”

“Everything but the first.”

She stomps towards him and shoves his shoulders. He stumbles but doesn’t fall. Mualani continues punching his chest and Kinich stands his ground, taking it all in.

“You have to remember. You have to. You can’t just forget.”

Kinich purses his lips this time. There is no use repeating himself. So he lets her pound his chest until it’s sore, until tears start streaming down her face and her voice starts warbling from screaming her throat raw, until she has no more strength to channel her anger and she falls against Kinich in limply, her body wracked with sobs. He guides her to the ground, laying her head against his stomach as she weeps.

“You can’t forget…” she whimpers, burying her face in his stomach. “All those moments in our lives…”

“There’s much you don’t remember either.” He reminds her. His stomach aches as he thinks of the progress he made in the past life. Perhaps that was the closest they had gotten to their original lives. To the real first time they met.

Mualani props herself up by grasping his shoulder. This close, Kinich could smell the spring water on her skin, even though it had been weeks since she had been with her tribe. She lifts a hand to his cheek and rests it there. He closes her eyes and ignores the heat rising all over his body.

“I dream of you.” Her voice is gentle, lilting. The way it used to be before, when she had opened up to him. “I’ve been dreaming of you for the past few days.”

Kinich’s body shudders as he releases a sigh. She still dreams of him. And this time, he could ask, “What exactly do you dream about?”

“I dream about killing you. I dream about you killing me. I dream about you dying in my arms, begging you to stay. I dream about you carrying me as you swing me in the air.”

He opens his eyes at the last one. That was not a memory that happened in any of his existing lives. Mualani is still sitting before him, a hand on his cheek, and she seems to understand.

“I don’t think you were trying to hurt me,” she says. “You were taking me somewhere. I don’t know where. But you were smiling. In that dream, you had a smile I’ve never seen on you here.”

“See?” He chuckles. He couldn’t help himself— his cheeks grew damp. “You remember more of it than I do.”

“It was a dream.”

“It shows that some part of you remembers. I don’t dream about you at all, you know? Much less of our original life together.”

Mualani presses her forehead against his. He does the same, and she sniffles a laugh. He couldn’t help but smile at her either. Maybe it says there’s something wrong about him that he could look at this crying girl he barely knows and still think that she must be the prettiest thing to exist. When he looks at her, he can’t think of anything else, not even the reality of what may come next.

“Kinich, Mualani.” Kachina appears next to them, patting their shoulders. “Come on, Mavuika’s calling us over.”

Mualani wipes her tears with the back of her hand and proceeds to do the same with Kinich. He feels like he could just melt right then and there. Screw Mavuika’s plan, maybe he should just run away to some cave with this girl (and Kachina, if she wants to) and spend the rest of their lives together away, far away.

“When all this is over,” Mualani says. “I want you to tell me about yourself.”

“About myself?”

“I want to get to know you. I want to know why…” She coughs, and her cheeks explode in a splotch of red. “I want to know why I liked you so much.”

Kinich smiles. He must be blushing too, because Mualani is staring at his cheeks and neck instead of his eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “And I would like for you to do the same.”

“Okay,” she says, and for a moment Kinich thinks everything is alright in the world.

Mavuika’s plan is surprisingly simple. Their allies from the Nanatzcayan had reported increased sightings of a malevolent force known as the Abyss, which corrupted everything and everyone they came into contact with. Thus, all they had to do was lure all the tribes out to the region near the Abyss, use each hero to stop their fellow tribemates from murdering each other, and enlighten them with the dangers that would befall upon everyone if they didn’t work together. The idea is so simple, in fact, that Kinich wonders if there may be a hidden caveat.

“We’ve attempted this before, but we didn’t have anyone from the Metzli at the time,” Mavuika says, looking straight at Mualani and Kinich as she says this. “But now that we have everyone, well, it might just work out now.”

Mualani looks less than pleased to have a heavy role thrust upon her. Kinich is more worried about the idea of sending her back to her tribe alone. He would come with her, but…

“I need you to take care of the Huitzlan,” Mavuika tells him after pulling him aside when the meeting ended. “I would do it myself, but Citlali and I have to deal with the Wayob.”

Kinich recalls what Citlali mentioned about forgetting this memory in the future. He purses his lip. “Does it have something to do with us possibly forgetting any of this happening?”

Mavuika freezes, then stares at him accusatorily. “Who told you that?”

“Citlali. Who else?”

She makes a pained face. “Shoot. You weren’t… supposed to know about that.”

“Clearly.”

“Everything regarding the Wayob, the time loop, all of this, is my responsibility. I wouldn’t have made that deal if I knew how badly it was going to affect everyone’s lives now.”

She looks so miserable, Kinich feels bad about bringing up the question. He tries to go straight to the point.

“I just want to know why we would suddenly forget everything, after lifetimes of intact memories.”

Mavuika ran her palms through her fiery hair. “I don’t want you to take my words as fate being set in stone. But when I made that deal, the Wayob promised me that our memories are tied to their power, just as our ability to regress is tied. But these abilities are also tied to my goal to unite the tribes. So when we do succeed, our ability to go back will disappear, and there is a chance that our memories will too.”

Kinich stares blankly. “So our minds will be completely cleared.”

Mavuika swallows. “Unfortunately, yes. Citlali hopes that this will only be the case if we die. Inversely, it’s highly likely that those who weren’t tied to the power of the Wayob will keep their memories from this life.”

He lets the information sink in. If he was understanding her right, it means there is a chance that Mualani and Kachina will remember him, but he won’t.

“And if we die… we truly die? There’s no second chance?”

“The Wayob’s promise would have disappeared. So no.”

This is it. If Kinich dies now, there is no way for him to go back and find Mualani again. This is the only chance he’s got now. He waits for Ajaw to pop out of his bracelet and celebrate the possibility of Kinich finally meeting his end and for him to rise once more. But the bracelet remains mum.

“I see,” Kinich says. “Thank you for telling me this.”

Mavuika sighs and straightens her back. “I promise you, Mualani, and all the other heroes of Natlan who dedicated their lives to this mission, that I will make things right. I will lead the new united Natlan into an era of peace and prosperity. I won’t let any of you suffer because of my transgressions anymore.”

Kinich manages a small smile. He didn’t know if this was a feeling passed on from another life, but a part of him believed she would become a great leader. That there was no one more fitting for the job.

“You will do it well,” he tells her.

Mualani and Kachina visit him the night before their planned attack. The other heroes had held a celebration outside, so there were still warm cinders resting near the bonfire.

“You should get some rest,” is the first thing Kachina tells him as she hops onto the log.

“You’re awake too,” Kinich replies.

“I don’t have to lead my entire tribe out to the mountains in hopes they wouldn’t kill me or any of the other tribes they spot on their way there.”

“You have to be positive, Kachina,” Mualani says. “Sure, there’s a chance we might all die soon, and we have to hope we in our next lives will trust Mavuika and her plan, but there’s also a chance that we do succeed and we don’t have to worry about killing each other anymore.”

Kinich is reminded of both the trio’s conversation in the cave and Mavuika and Citlali’s warning of their fleeting memories. He turns around to hide his aching expression, fixating his gaze on the stars.

“Kinich?” Kachina reaches out and grabs his hand. “Is everything okay?”

Ever since he told her about how they were like in the past, Kachina had grown more attached to him. Maybe she was hoping that her and Mualani’s dreams of uniting the tribes would actually come true. He should probably tell her about the risk that he won’t remember them if he dies.

“I just hope we’ll win,” Kinich says, managing a smile.

Mualani shoves his shoulder lightly. “We will win. Keep that in mind and it will happen.”

The three of them stay like that for a while, leaning against each other for body warmth as they try to make out constellations in the night sky. At some point, Kachina heads back into the house to go to sleep, leaving Kinich and Mualani alone outside with the stars.

Mualani grabs Kinich’s shoulder. “You’re hiding something, aren’t you?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You could barely even look at us. What’s going on?”

He shouldn’t tell her. He really shouldn’t tell her. But if it’s true…

“There’s a chance I won’t remember you when this is all over,” Kinich says.

The sound of chirping insects rips through the night, echoing in his head. Mualani shifts her hand from Kinich’s shoulder to cup his cheek. Her unexpected calm soothed Kinich’s nerves.

“Does it have something to do with the Wayob?” She asks.

“It has everything to do with the Wayob.” All of this has something to do with the Wayob. The name was starting to become a curse in his head.

Mualani’s other hand finds Kinich’s, and she squeezes it. “Screw them, then. Try to remember anyway.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You will. I know it.”

“Because you dream of me?”

“You said it yourself. If this current you doesn’t remember me, some part of you will. Just as some part of me does.”

Kinich closes his eyes, and his countless lives play in the darkness. All his deaths by her hand. All her deaths by his hand. An endless cycle of violence, of purgatory, of killing and dying and begging for forgiveness. Perhaps finally of absolution, with this final act of goodness they will both attempt tomorrow.

“I’m sorry for killing you all those times before.”

Mualani laughs. “I’m sorry too. But it wasn’t like we had a choice, did we?”

“We did. We chose to do it.”

“Because of our tribes. And there was one life where you didn’t, right? And look where it lead us now.”

Kinich opens his eyes. Mualani is beaming at him, both sides of her lips reaching to the ends of her cheeks. Her face is so close now, he could smell the apples she had for dessert in her breath.

“You’re the reason why this cycle broke, Kinich.”

He looks up and locks gazes with the amber-sapphire eyes that captivated him so long ago.

“What do you think we were like in our original lives?” He asks her.

Mualani smiles. “I think we hated each other.”

“Really?”

“On first sight, I mean. But things happened, and we grew to like each other.”

“And why the sudden change?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you were really polite. I like polite guys.”

“I’m not polite.”

“Not now, but maybe back then you were.”

“And me? Why would I like you?”

“Because I’m funny.”

“You’re funny?”

“Sometimes! And I like people. Do you like people? I don’t think you do, you act like no one in that room exists except for Kachina and me. And maybe Mavuika. And you don’t like Granny Itzli at all because she drinks and you hate the smell.”

“Granny who?”

“Citlali. That’s what the others call her.”

“Citlali’s second name aside, you think we bond over the fact that you like people and I don’t?”

“Because I can interact with them for you. And I can make excuses for you to sneak away.”

“But then I’d come back for you, because I want to be with you.”

“Obviously,” Mualani snorts. “Because you love me.”

“Obviously,” Kinich grins. “Because I love you.”

And then, because he can count the freckles on her skin and feel her breath on his lips, he leans in and kisses her. And because she’s probably been waiting for this ever since they were left alone, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him closer, so that their bodies are pressed flush against each other. And maybe because he was so tired of worrying about what would happen tomorrow, what the end of the day would bring, Kinich doesn’t think about how they hardly knew each other in this life. For a moment, he can believe that they will both survive, that their memories will too, and that they’d be able to spend the rest of their peaceful lives together, in painted caves around warm bonfires under starry skies.

It took Kinich three hours to convince the elders of the Huitzlan that he had disappeared for days because of a near-fatal injury, and another two hours to convince them to bring their tribes to attack the Nanatzcayan. As he swings through the air ahead of his people, Ajaw rattles on in his fear after days of being so silent.

“So if you die this time, I can take over your body?” He asks.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about,” Kinich says.

“Answer the question!”

“Possibly. The Wayob’s power won’t be there to restart my life if Mavuika succeeds.”

“And how do you know if Mavuika will succeed?”

“I don’t. I just hope she would.”

Ajaw sighs. “You’re a horrible person, did you know that?”

“So you tell me every other day.”

“So don’t die. The world could benefit from having horrible people.”

A suspicious blue shape was taking form near Ajaw’s eyes.

“Are you tearing up?” Kinich asks.

“WHAT?” Ajaw bellows at him, so loud that Kinich nearly falls from the sky. “What are you suggesting?! That I will cry for you? Such arrogance! To think that I, the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw, would shed tears for such a lowly servant—”

He continues blabbering until the Huitzlan reach the Nanatzcayan’s borders. The sky there had darkened significantly, casting long-reaching shadows on the plains. Kinich frowns at the frail rays of the sun that managed to peek through. The camps were eerily silent. Something was off.

“What is this, Kinich?” One of the elders approaches his side. “I thought you said the tribe would be waiting here for us.”

“I thought so too,” he says. There should be signs of the other tribes arriving in the canyons now. Then Citlali would blow her horn, and Mavuika would appear and show them the dangers of the Abyss. Maybe he shouldn’t have put so much faith into her plan. It wasn’t like the Abyss posed that much of a danger to him or the other tribes in their old lives.

Just as he finishes the thought, the ground beneath him begins to shake. Members of the Huitzlan launch themselves into the air at once, all suspecting that the Nanatzcayan had attempted a sneak attack by breaking the ground beneath them. But as Kinich hangs himself in the air with Ajaw’s help, he notes the strange purple skin of the tepetlisaurus glaring up at him under the dirt.

“Kinich!”

He looks up to see Mualani skating at him through the air. She snatches him by the stomach and tosses him onto her board, so that they slide down the phlogiston path and land together in the canyon. Kinich starts scanning her for injuries, but Mualani nudges him to move.

“Focus,” Mualani says. “We need to protect the Nanatzcayan from the Abyss.”

“I thought—”

“The plan’s changed.” Citlali materializes next to them. Her two pillow-shaped companions float behind her, squawking in panic. “The Abyss is much stronger than we realize. Mavuika thought they were a bluff we could simply use, but they’ve managed to tear down the camp and render most of the warriors useless.”

Kinich peers into the Nanatzcayan camp from the top of the canyon. The purple monsters ravage through the houses and tents like they were paper, bulldozing through warriors and livelihoods like they were nothing. Mualani pulls him back in fear that he would fall into the chaos below.

“What do you want us to do?” Kinich asks Citlali.

“Keep the Abyss at bay. Defend the Nanatzcayan. We don’t want them to die off.” Citlali prepares to find the other heroes, but then pauses in her path. She turns to glare at Kinich and Mualani. “And stay alive.”

“Easier said than done,” Mualani says, preparing to surf down into the chaos. Kinich grabs her wrist.

“Hey,” he says. “Be careful.”

“Obviously,” she says. “You too.”

She dives in. He stays in the canyon, where creatures of the Abyss had begun attacking the members of the Huitzlan lingering around.

Kinich lost track of how many Abyss monsters he gutted down and how much time had passed. He swings and hits and kills and defends, whether they were members of the Huitzlan or not.

At some point, however, the other tribes— the Metzli, Tlalocan, the Mictlan, the Teteocan— had mixed in with his people and those of the Nanatzcayan, and were all fighting together against the Abyss. Everywhere he looked, Kinich spotted at least two warriors from distinct tribes watching each other’s backs as they navigated the battlefield, ensuring each other’s survival.

It appears that Mavuika’s plan to unite the tribes is working. If that is the case, then he had to find Mualani and Kachina and take them off the battlefield now. They had succeeded in their mission; now they had to survive.

Kinich ducks beneath a swinging Abyss monster and narrowly escapes with his life. He swings through the air, zipping above the canyons, before diving into the camps where he had last seen Mualani. The battle there is bloodier than it is above— it is the domestic areas of the Nanatzcayan, and they are littered with the bodies of children, the elderly, and others who aren’t capable of fighting. Kinich’s attention flits across the fallen bodies lightly. His stomach dips whenever he sees a body, whether corpse or gravely injured. He prays and prays and prays to whatever gods, to the Wayob, to Mavuika herself, that Mualani and Kachina had survived whatever carnage had tormented them.

“Kachina!” He hollers. “Mualani!”

He sees them both then, fighting a giant Abyss monster. Both alive but bleeding, one from the temple and another from the leg, defending an older lady and her two grandchildren. Kachina slices the monster’s limbs with her spear while Mualani attempts to distract it with her projectiles. But the monster is not fazed, and it raises its arms to crush the five of them.

Kinich grabs its limbs with his grappling hook and strains to pull it down. Mualani takes the opportunity to pelt it with more projectiles as Kachina leaps up to poke its eyes out. It hollers and teeters about, nearly falling off the edge of the cliff with Kachina and Mualani still hanging on. Kinich raises his wrist and without further prompting, Ajaw pops out, grabs Kinich’s rope with his jaw, and digs his claws into the ground to hold it in. Kinich leaps forward with only his claymore in hand and stabs at the monster, aiding Mualani and Kachina in tearing it down. They don’t stop until the monster remains still.

“Kinich!” Kachina greets, hugging him from the side. “You’re alive!”

Mualani wipes the blood on her cheeks aside when Kinich stares at her. “I’m fine. I just hit my head earlier.”

Kinich sags in relief and hugs them both. He allows himself to accept the fact that his most treasured companions were going to survive, that he wasn’t going to have to worry about going back and doing it all over again.

Mualani breaks apart from the hug to inform the grandmother of where to go. “There should be a safety camp down that path,” she says. “You’ll see a shaman from the Mictlan, wearing a bunch of accessories. She’ll protect you.”

The grandmother stares at Mualani’s Metzli-colored clothes. “But you… you’re—”

“I only care about your safety,” Mualani says. “Please trust me.”

“How is it everywhere else?” Kachina asks, her face contorting with worry. This was her home, after all. Even though her people tried to kill her, she was still anxious for their survival.

“Mavuika’s plan is working,” Kinich says. “The tribes are cooperating to fight this threat. We don’t have to stay here and fight anymore.”

“It’s working?” Mualani repeats, wrapping her arms around Kachina with excitement. “I can’t believe it. Really?”

“But we can’t stop fighting,” Kachina insists. “My people are dying!”

“The other tribes can handle it,” Kinich says. “Let’s head off somewhere safe, please, before something else comes in and tries to kill us.”

Kachina whips around to face Mualani. “We can’t leave now. We have to stay and fight.”

Mualani looks up at him. She looks at him like she doesn’t know him anymore.

“We’re warriors,” she says, looking at him. “We have to keep fighting. We can’t back out while people are still in danger.”

“Did you forget that we’re also in danger?” Kinich snaps, the ire in him close to boiling. Did they forget what would happen if any of them died now? Did they not realize there would be no second chance for them after?

“Kinich, we have to keep fighting,” Kachina says. “That grandmother and her kids aren’t the only ones still trapped in here. We saw a few more families on the way—”

“I can’t lose you both again!” He bellows. The fire had reached its breaking point and was now spilling all over the edges to flick at its closest victims. “I’m tired of the violence, I’m tired of the dying. Please… just go somewhere safe for now.”

“We’re warriors,” Mualani says firmly. “We can’t abandon Kachina’s people now because we’ve succeeded on our objective. It’s our duty to protect everyone, as it will be once Natlan is united as one.”

Kinich wants to shout at her, to make her realize how stupid she was being. But then he sees her, actually sees her, and realizes she didn’t look any different from the first time he remembers seeing her. Her blood-streaked face, her pale glowing hair, her twinkling gemstone eyes. They stood out on her now, highlighted by some force Kinich couldn’t see. Maybe it was him finally understanding what this girl was fighting for, the kind of person she wanted to be. It came from grasping what pushed Mualani to be who she is, to realizing that there was more to life than meets the eye. Perhaps this is him finally learning what made him fall for her in the first place, instead of just how she looked like an angel at first glance. For a moment, it is Kinich and Mualani in that space, two strangers who look at each other and finally realizing why once upon a time, they were two people in love.

Another roar snaps all three of them to focus.

Kinich turns to see Ajaw disappearing into the canyon as a mega boar-sized monster barrels towards them, its eyes flickering with purple fire. He grabs Kachina and shoves her out of the way as the monster raises its claws. Mualani prepares a projectile to throw at it, but Kinich watches her as if in slow motion. She wouldn’t make it in time. She was too slow.

So Kinich shoves her out of the way, throwing her towards Kachina, just as the monster brings its claws down and slashes through his chest.

The entire world instantly blurs. Kinich could feel the ground against his skin, but he couldn’t remember falling. He could hear the buzzing in his bracelet as Ajaw leaps out of it and decimates the monster with three blasts. He can make out a hazy silhouette of a girl, her arms wrapping around his body, as she shakes him repeatedly to wake him up.

“Kinich!” Mualani calls out to him. Her voice sounded different, like something was clogging in her throat. Her head hangs from her neck as she presses her forehead against his shoulder. “No no no… don’t go. Please… please… I can’t lose you...”

Kinich can feel himself slip away. This is going to be the last life. Here it is, finally, after so many years of living the same one without end. He forces himself to focus on Mualani’s face, to have her be the last thing he sees in his life.

Did he live a good life? Kinich isn’t sure people would agree. Wasn’t he arguing to run away right before he was slashed down, to encourage his friends to be selfish when they were trying to be the opposite? But then he did push his friends away from danger, allowing the monster to take him instead. He let that monster take his life instead of theirs. So maybe… maybe he hadn’t wasted his life…

It hurt to do it, but Kinich lifts his hand to Mualani’s cheek. She moves to lean against his forehead so he doesn’t have to reach too far. He can feel Kachina’s hands on his stomach, working hard to quell the bleeding. But it is no use. He is going to die. So he whispers into Mualani’s ear.

“Your eyes,” he says. “They’re like your tribe’s springs. And the setting sun.”

He wakes to find himself in an obsidian room. It is similar to the room when the elder granted him the Ancient Name for the first time, except instead of the elder of the Huitzlan, Kinich sees Citlali sitting in the center, staring at something in her hands.

“Are you also dead?” Kinich asks.

Citlali looks up and grins at him. It’s so wide and joyous Kinich briefly forgot this was the same woman who numbed her pain by drinking.

“We succeeded,” she says. “The Natlanese have united under Mavuika. We’re one nation now.”

Kinich could feel the fight leaving him. His job was done. He could rest now. Then he realizes something.

“I remember it all,” he says. “My lives. Why do I remember everything?”

Citlali stares at him like he lost his thinking ability in the battle. “Because you’re dead. And you haven’t gone back.”

“What are you saying? That I can go back?”

“You can if you want to. But if you do, you won’t remember anything.”

This must be what they meant. Dying was not the end, but coming back to life would mean forgetting everything. He would forget the moments he saw Mualani for the first and last times. He would forget the series of events that led her to finally trust him. He would forget the drawings and stories he made up with her and Kachina in that cave, he would forget the moment he realized Mualani wanted to remember him too, he would forget that kiss they shared under the stars. He would forget everything that made him who he is now.

“Where’s Mualani?” He asks. “And Kachina? Are they here too?”

Citlali shakes her head. “Last I checked, they’re still mourning your death.”

“Will they remember me?”

“Perhaps. It depends on what the Wayobs choose to do.”

“Is there a chance they will?”

Citlali shrugs. “You tell me.”

Kinich closes his eyes. He has no obligation to return. He’s dead. But maybe… if there’s even a sliver of hope up there…

“Take me back,” he says. “I’ll go back to life.”

“Even without your memories?”

“Even without them.”

Citlali smiles at him in the way that makes him believe he made the right decision.

“Give me your hand,” she says.

Kinich gives her his hand. His memories rush to the forefront of his mind like a flood. He closes his eyes and allows himself to fall into oblivion, to float into absolute nothingness until someone finds him and brings him home.

In this new life, the skies and plains of Natlan are not blood red with violence, but bright blue and emerald green, colors of the Metzli springs and the Huitzlan grass, adorned with yellow-white flowers and towering trees. In this new life, Kinich is a hunter, protecting the various tribes from rogue Saurians. In this new life, Kinich has no parents, but he still has Ajaw, who insists that it was his fault that everything he strived for is ruined.

In this new life, the Natlan tribes are a united force against the Abyss. In this new life, Kinich has no friends within his tribe, so he travels the nation in hopes of finding friends from the other ones.

“Do you really think you’ll find people who care about you out here?” Ajaw scoffs at Kinich as he thumbs through a scroll for instructions on his latest commission. “Please, if the people who grew up with you don’t want to hang out with you, why do you think people with different customs will?”

“Thank you for always being my ray of sunshine,” Kinich says.

“I am not—! Ray of sunshine! How could you call me such a ridiculous thing?! You darned servant!”

Kinich doesn’t answer because a high-pitched scream comes at him from the left and collides with him in the physical form of a girl on a board.

“Heads up!” She screeches, knocking Kinich down like she was an ax against a tree.

“Fool!” Ajaw cackles at him, taking joy at his companion’s humiliation. “Your reaction time is sloppy, I saw that coming from a mile away—”

“I’m sorry!” The girl exclaims, reaching downward to pull Kinich to his feet. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to knock into you, I wasn’t looking, I was already too late to meet Kachina and traveling on phlogiston paths always worked for me in the past if I was in a hurry—”

“That’s alright,” Kinich interrupts, a bit annoyed. The scroll was a bit bent, sure, which entirely threw him off his game, because even though his commissioner probably didn’t care about the bent scroll, he always made sure to return his clients’ items to them correctly. “You don’t have to apologize, it was my—”

Then he stops and stares, because the girl before him was the spitting image of the person described in the scroll. Pale hair tied into two long braids behind her back, her clothes a mix of Metzli-blue scarves and cloths. Eyes as blue as water and as orange as amber, blinking mischievously at him the longer he stares. Personality as bubbly as a rushing waterfall, a momentum that couldn’t be stopped by force alone.

“You,” Kinich says. “I’m looking for you.”

“Me?” The girl repeats. “Why are you looking for me?”

You commissioned me. The words were at the tip of Kinich’s tongue. He could feel them there. But then, his mind played him a series of completely different sentences.

We knew each other in a past life. I remember you because we killed each other countless times, over and over again for hundreds of years. But then the cycle was broken because I wanted to save you, and we learned that we may have loved each other in our first life. Then I died so you could live, and forgot everything. But I was told I could come back, so I came back in hopes I could have a second chance with you.

Kinich blinks. What was that?

The girl waves her hand in front of his face. She looks concerned. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“He is a ghost,” Ajaw says, popping up next to him with a scowl.

The girl laughs at Ajaw, barely looking surprised at his presence. “Well, that doesn’t make sense, does it? Because I can see him, and he looks pretty tangible to me.”

“Then you’re a fool!”

“What? How am I the fool?”

Kinich shakes his head and slaps Ajaw away. “Ignore him. He’s like that with everyone.”

“I’m not offended.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He is surprised at how fond the words came out of his mouth. She seems surprised too, because she squints at him.

“Do I know you?” She asks.

Does she? Kinich looks at her. There isn’t a semblance of recognition on her face.

“My name is Kinich,” he says. “Does that ring a bell?”

A moment passes. Something flickers in her eyes, but it disappears just as quickly. She shrugs.

“For a moment there, I thought I did. But I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Oh, silly me, did I forget to introduce myself?” She laughs. “That’s weird, I always remember to introduce myself as soon as possible…” She thrusts her hand out at him. “I’m Mualani.”

Something scratches at his brain, but Kinich pushes it to the back of his mind. Whatever it is, it could wait. He takes her hand and smiles at her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mualani.”

Mualani smiles back. “Likewise, Kinich.” She leans in and winks at him. “I have a feeling we’ll be very good friends.”

Behind them, the sun had begun to set, casting an orange hue over them and the clouds above, gleaming with the promise of a new beginning.