Chapter Text
The last light of the morning sun shone off the mossy columns of Tenochtitlan. Overgrown tree roots curled protectively around the pyramids and canals, encompassing the lost city as its own. Colorful birds chirped as the last rays disappeared behind the main temple; a silhouette stood tall atop the sandstone building. Rhys watched as the sun peeked under the horizon. She loved this, the transitions of day to night, the changing of the ethereal guards. Her wings fluttered behind her in the whipping autumn wind.
He will be arriving soon. She thought. Taking no more of the chilling air, she flew down a hole at the top of the temple, into the interior. Landing on the center podium, she walked over to a crumbling throne in the back of the temple. Tucking her wings comfortably behind her back, she sat with a sigh, overlooking the empty chamber that once clamored with joy, praise, and worship. She sat on the throne, reflecting on the past and times gone by, like the desert winds.
A hissing awoke her, and a white boa slithered from the back of the throne onto her shoulder.
‘We have visitors.’ The snake hissed in an ancient tongue. ‘They wait in the plaza for your majesty.’
“How many?” Rhys asked calmly.
‘Four. They come armed, but do not draw.’
She nodded.
—
Rhys slowly walked down the temple steps, keeping a wary eye on the unexpected visitors. A Pooka, a fairy, a golden man, and a Russian stood in the plaza—the Guardians. Her face hardened in resentment, nearly hissing like her companion still wrapped around her shoulders. “To what do I owe this unwanted visit?” The Guardians turned in startle at the sound of her voice behind them.
The Russian- St. Nicholas- regained his composure before addressing her with a booming voice. “Quetzalcoatl! My friend, how have you been? Long time, no?” he spoke in a thick Russian accent, arms outstretched in cheerful greeting.
A long stretch of silence followed before Rhys spoke. “That has not been my name since my people burned.” She said with heated anger. The group froze.
“Yes-well-um.” The Pooka said, ears pinned flat in embarrassment.
“Storm Spirit.” The fairy cut in, addressing Rhys by her moon-given title. “What would you like to go by is what I believe my friend here was wondering?” She gave a sheepish smile.
“Rhys.”
Nickolas nodded before continuing his practiced speech. “Right, well, Rhys, we come here to ask a favor of you.”
The woman’s wings twitched, a flash of irritation grazing her features. “You come cowering to me,” Rhys said, seething, “after all these years. After you stood by and let them die!”
The Guardians cringed back at her outburst. “And we are so so sorry,” the fairy said, “we didn't know.”
“Didn't know! They were children! It's your job to know, to protect them! But you did nothing!” Rhys's blue wings stretched out to their full size, hot tears streaming down her face. “You watched them burn! I tried to protect them, to shield them while you came, but you didn't, you left us, left them! And now you come to me for help!”
The Guardians huddled in formation when a bolt of lightning struck the ground between the two parties. Thunder rolled overhead, and rain and lightning crashed around them. The heavens themselves seemed to shake in the woman's rage. The group dodged stray bolts, unable to fight the fury of the elements. Suddenly, a flurry of sandy images appeared above the golden man's head. The Pooka takes notice, deciphering the scrambling script. His ears bolt up in understanding, turning to the woman. “HE needs you!” He screamed through the storm. As suddenly as the words left his mouth, the thunder and lightning ceased, and the rain subsided.
Rhys looked up through puffy eyes, directed at the drenched Pooka. “W-what?” she stammered.
“Jack," said the Pooka. “He’s been missing for a few days now.”
“Missing?”
“Yes,” Nick chimed in, “snow in the Arctic and other regions has begun to melt. We have tried to find him, but no such luck.”
“We may be the Guardians of Childhood,” said the Fairy, “but we do not have the same resources as you in the spirit world, and we knew the two of you were friends.”
Rhys thought for a moment, anger and electricity still flickering through her eyes. “It will be dark soon,” she finally said, “we can talk more inside.” She turned her back to the courtyard, leaving the shell-shocked Guerdians to follow