As they passed through the large, ornate gates—still flanked by towering statues—Xaltal and Aymara walked side by side, their footsteps muffled by the soft grass.
The air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and freshly cut leaves. Trees and bushes lined the path in a wild variety—some with gnarled trunks and tangled branches, others tall and proud, casting long shadows in the late afternoon sun.
"It's really fortunate the lift is right in front of the gates," Xaltal mused, his voice thoughtful as he admired the looming structure ahead.
He brushed strands of his veil away from his face. The lift doors gleamed faintly, reflecting the greenery around them.
Aymara huffed and folded her arms. "I don't like the other one," she said flatly, though something—displeasure? relief?—lingered behind her tone.
Xaltal chuckled softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "Yeah, I'm glad this one was made." He scratched the back of his neck, trying to ease her mood. "This space used to be for picnics, you know. Even if it's small…"
He leaned toward the lift, brushing its cool metal surface with his fingers. "They set it up periodically, since not everyone stays. It's not exactly a regular lift system."
Unlike floor 1,307, this one actually had a button. A small, circular thing that seemed oddly ancient for such a new structure. Smiling faintly, he pressed it. A soft beep echoed.
But Aymara wasn't paying attention.
"Did Dad tell you that?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.
Xaltal blinked. "Ah—" he started, but she cut him off.
"No buts!" she snapped, eyes narrowing. "Did he also tell you to take me to the Mall? I knew it—he doesn't—" Her words tumbled out fast, her anger bubbling over.
Sensing an outburst, Xaltal placed a steady hand on her shoulder. She flinched but didn't pull away.
"Yes. He told me to bring you," he admitted, voice calm. "He also told me to distract you."
"Distract me? From what, Xaltal?" Her voice grew sharper with each word as she stepped closer. She was relentless, buzzing around him like a persistent gnat.
He shrugged, eyes drifting to the lift. "Can't tell you, can I? Wouldn't be much of a distraction if I did." He forced a sly smile, inwardly cursing the delay. Why wasn't the lift here yet?
Aymara huffed again. "I'll go back, then!" She turned sharply, but he caught her arm, gently pulling her back.
"I don't think you want to go back," he said, glancing over her shoulder. His eyes fixed on a statue clinging to the stone wall—smooth marble, hauntingly beautiful. Its hollow expression seemed to follow them.
"Ay, your dad really has an artistic taste," Xaltal added, chuckling awkwardly.
Aymara stilled. Her gaze followed his to the statue. "Did he also tell you that?" she asked, voice quieter now.
Xaltal frowned. "Tell me what?"
"Only Daddy calls me 'Ay,'" she said, not taking her eyes off the statue.
He opened his mouth, but no words came. That intensity—it shook him. Aymara, usually so sharp-tongued, looked… wounded. Vulnerable.
"Well…" he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck again. His chainmail veil rattled faintly.
She stepped closer. Her hand twitched at her side. "I'll make it up to you," he said suddenly, reaching for her hand.
She tried to pull away, but he held on gently. "Let me go," she muttered bitterly. "I shouldn't have picked you…"
Xaltal raised an eyebrow. "And how did that go again?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood.
The bar smelled of smoke and old ale. Xaltal leaned on the counter, spitting lazily into a spittoon.
"What're you doing here, partner?" he asked, eyeing the newcomer.
"I'm looking for someone. Someone that guides," Aymara replied, stepping forward with confidence. Coins jingled in her pocket.
"I'm a guide," Xaltal said with a grin. "What's it to ya?"
She tossed a coin onto the counter.
"I'll pay you a hefty fee—"
"We met at the meet-and-greet in the Function of Era of Cowboys in Horizon District?" Xaltal guessed, sounding unsure.
Aymara rolled her eyes. "No, dimwit, we met—"
A speaker stood on a podium, shouting over roaring applause.
"War! We will stop it! If not today, if not tomorrow, if not in the coming years—!"
Xaltal, leaning against the wall at the back, turned to Aymara.
"Yeah… I don't think we met here, do you?"
She shook her head, giggling. "Nope. I can't remember."
"We met in—" he tried again.
"Bastion District…" she muttered, finally. "That's where we met, you were a pirate for a whole year with your sister."
Xaltal grinned. "Now you get it!" He turned back to the lift. But it still hadn't arrived.
"Why isn't the lift coming?"
Only the faint rattling of his chainmail filled the silence as he pressed the button again. Nothing.
Aymara glanced at the doors. Unease crept into her voice. "If the lift's broken, then… no mall today, right?"
Xaltal blinked. "No mall? Why would we skip that?"
"Please, no…" she whispered, barely audible.
His concern deepened. "How'd we get through the other floors before?"
"Floor falling…" she answered, voice trembling. "I'm… scared of heights."
His expression softened. He sighed, running a hand along the sheath of his sword. Then gently, he brushed her hair back with both hands.
"Don't worry. We'll figure it out," he said.
They stood before the lift.
"Down?" Xaltal asked.
"Down…" Aymara whispered.
Suddenly, a glowing circle formed beneath their feet—pulsing with energy. Without warning, the ground gave way.
The light flared.
They were pulled downward, the force overwhelming. Air distorted around them, streaked with shadow and light. No time to react—just a breathless moment of weightlessness before the world vanished beneath them.