David, Beulah, Rebecca, and Amanda were getting ready to leave for Chichén Itzá.
Amanda hesitated.
"Should we try calling the leader once more… just in case?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"Vincent's deep into his research, Amanda. No matter who calls him now, he won't come."
David got into the car, his hands resting on the steering wheel, ready to drive.
At Beulah's signal, Amanda walked over and sat beside him.
Beulah, afraid David might look at her through the rearview mirror, made Rebecca sit on the right side and quietly took the seat next to her.
(David thought: Just like Vincent, Amanda shouldn't have come either…)
If I keep waiting for the right moment because everyone's around, this will never happen, he scolded himself.
Talk to Beulah today, David. You haven't spoken a single word to her since you arrived. Don't waste any more time.
With that resolve, he drove.
Forty minutes later, they reached Chichén Itzá.
Crowds of people were moving in groups toward the Mayan pyramid.
David followed the line of cars ahead and parked in the assigned area. All four stepped out.
"Is there a restroom nearby?" Amanda asked.
"It's right over there. Come," Rebecca replied.
Rebecca and Amanda walked off to the right. Beulah followed them almost immediately.
David knew she wouldn't be alone with him. He stayed back, waiting for the three of them to return.
Meanwhile…
Cheran was climbing a tree to collect honey.
As he sat on a branch, inspecting the hive, the sea stretched behind it.
Eight unfamiliar men stepped off a boat and moved toward the island.
Guerrero—and the seven men who came with him.
Cheran immediately climbed down and ran toward the shore.
But when he reached it… no one was there.
Only footprints.
And a small peacock feather lying on the sand.
Small peacock feathers were worn only by the Kokóm clan of the Mayans.
When Guerrero and his group entered the Mayan island, exhaustion forced them to rest briefly.
That was their misfortune.
The Kokóm warriors, watching from afar, had already spotted them.
They surrounded Guerrero's group, tied their hands and legs, and dragged them away within moments.
Cheran didn't witness it directly—but he understood exactly what had happened.
He rushed home. Inside, his uncle and his friend were seated, speaking with Parías.
Without wasting a second, Sharan told them everything.
Tensions between the Kokóm and Caracol Mayans had been escalating for a long time.
Now the Kokóms had crossed into Caracol territory and abducted eight men.
Those who enter today will attack tomorrow, Sharan thought grimly.
This couldn't be ignored.
He pulled out his new dagger from its sheath and prepared himself for what would happen that evening.
Cheran, Parías, his uncle, and his friend waited—for 6 PM.
For the Kokóm clan, this day marked the Festival of Living Sacrifice.
Cheran secretly sent his men into Kokóm territory and completed several tasks with precision.
The sun began to set.
The Kokóm clan gathered in one place, staring at the bound men with twisted curiosity.
Guerrero's group now fully understood—something terrible was about to happen.
Escape was impossible.
The chants of the Kokóms grew louder.
People gathered around, watching with excitement.
The eight men were dragged toward a small platform.
But it was already littered with goat heads.
Kokóm leader Gonzalo decided they would be sacrificed deep inside the forest.
But the crowd grew restless.
They wanted to taste them now.
They had never seen Spaniards before.
Their pale skin looked like a delicacy.
Some had already begun licking Jeromino and Aguilar.
Gonzalo gestured—four would be slaughtered immediately.
A sharp blade landed in his hand.
Guerrero watched in horror, his entire body trembling.
One man was forced onto his back.
With a loud cry, Gonzalo plunged the knife into his chest.
Blood sprayed everywhere.
His scream could have echoed all the way to Spain.
Moments later, his heart was torn out.
Three more Spaniards were sacrificed the same way.
Their bodies were instantly divided and devoured by the Kokóm crowd.
Guerrero had reached the edge of madness.
One man, belching loudly, stared at the bound Aguilar.
I should have died in the sea, Aguilar thought.
The remaining four were dragged into the forest.
A tiger's roar echoed from within, causing half the group to stop in fear.
Only ten men, weapons drawn, approached the altar.
The four captives were forced to kneel before the idol of their god.
To Gonzalo, one of them looked like a human-shaped rabbit.
Licking his lips, Gonzalo struck first.
Two men held the victim's arms, two held his legs, dragging the body away to be eaten later.
"One man for every two… but four of us can share this one," they muttered, dividing the flesh.
Knife in hand, Gonzalo turned toward Jeromino.
Five warriors stood around him.
The dry leaves rustled.
As Gonzalo raised his blade—
Cheran burst out from the foliage and pressed his knife against Gonzalo's throat.
The five warriors instantly dropped their weapons and stepped back.
Cheran stalled them with words, buying time.
Behind them, unseen,
Parías had drawn two arrows, targeting two men.
Cheran's uncle and his friend were perched in a tree, bows ready, aiming at three more.
The arrows flew together.
One missed.
But when cheran ordered them to turn—
Four arrows pierced four chests in a row.
Before Gonzalo could react, cheran slit his throat.
Another man turned just in time to see bodies collapsing behind him—
The blade that left Gonzalo's neck was now buried in his stomach.
Back at Chichén Itzá…
David waited.
And waited.
The noise was overwhelming; he couldn't even make a phone call.
Losing patience, he went inside the building—
Just as the others returned to the parking area.
Amanda and Rebecca searched for David.
Beulah stood still, indifferent.
Once again…
David had missed his moment.