The first two days, they traveled along the beach. Out in the open, even though there was nothing but sand as far as the eye could see. Still, Emilio didn’t like it. What if they came across a settlement later on, and word of Kuyasqay’s death had already reached the people there? He had no idea how news traveled here. Messengers, probably, since they couldn’t write here. At least they wouldn't use pigeons, but those messengers would still get around faster than they did.

“Isn’t there another way? Somewhere with more trees?” he asked T’ukri.

Mateo looked at him questioningly. Unlike Emilio, he could barely make himself understood in the native language, and it was obvious that it pissed him off.

“Why? This is the route Iliyan took. We want to catch up with him, don’t we?” The boy pointed at the footprints in the sand. In some places they had already been blown away, but the trail was indeed clearly visible.

The thought that Iliyan had actually walked here made Emilio’s stomach twist into a knot. He hadn’t even thought about that. “Iliyan can go wherever he wants. I can’t.”

“You can’t? You are a god. The greatest one after His Holiness.”

“I’m not a god. And do you really think he just let me go?”

The warrior stared up at him in complete confusion.

“He’s dead. I… killed him,” he said when he couldn’t figure out how to say I strangled him.

“What?” T’ukri stopped walking.

“What?” Mateo said in English as well. “What’s going on?”

Emilio didn’t know which of them to answer first. Mateo was easier, but not exactly the most urgent.

“He was a horrible man,” he told T’ukri. “You think so too, don’t you? He killed your people. Iliyan told me you’re from the rainforest.”

With a sigh, T’ukri lowered his head, letting his dark hair fall across his face. His shoulders slumped.

“Kuyasqay wasn’t a god,” Emilio emphasized. “He only pretended to be. Just like me. Gods don’t live on earth. They’re up there somewhere.” He gestured toward the sky. This time, he spared himself the effort of explaining that there were no gods at all.

“So His Holiness… is dead?”

“Dead in his bed. No idea when anyone will find out. I’m definitely the biggest…” suspect. “They’ll probably blame me.” Not that he knew who they were. “Who’s in charge now? Who would want to avenge him?”

“His sister lives in the Valley of the Quetzal. From the Valley of the Jaguar, that is one Transformation away.”

Roughly a month. Well, if that was south, at least he didn’t have to worry about that. It would take them twice as long to get anywhere near him. Hopefully, Emilio would already be back in his own world by then.

“And how many valleys are there between us and the Valley of the Condor?”

“One, the Valley of the Capybara. We’ll reach it in five days.”

“And the Muchika already control it?”

The boy nodded.

“Then we’ll have to go around it.”

T’ukri frowned. He turned his head to the side and stared east, where the foothills of the Andes were still visible despite the hazy air. “Then we’ll lose the trail.”

Emilio shrugged. Iliyan was hours ahead of them; there was no way they were going to catch up with him. Besides, maybe he would turn toward the mountains soon anyway. If he ran into other warriors in the Valley of the Capybara, there was a chance they would forbid him from traveling any farther.

“So what the hell is going on?” Mateo asked after a silence had fallen.

“I want us to travel somewhere more sheltered. Before we reach the Valley of the Condor, we have to pass through the Valley of the Capybara. The Muchika have already taken it.”

“So? You’re a god. They’ll let you through.”

“Not if they know what happened to their ruler. It’s several days’ walk to that valley, and there’s a good chance trained messengers will get there before we do.”

Mateo looked thoughtful, but then seemed to agree. “So that means even more walking?”

“Yep.”

At least two weeks, if the distance between the valleys was roughly the same. Maybe a month with their detour.

There was nothing else to do but continue their journey.

Between the valleys, it really was a deserted wasteland—they didn’t encounter a single person. Emilio was relieved when, after days of walking, they finally reached the Andes and were surrounded by trees.

Out of the corner of his eye, Emilio looked at Mateo as they fought their way through the new undergrowth. Although he had grown up in the same city as Juan and Emilio, he seemed to have no trouble adapting to any situation whatsoever. There was a determined set to his mouth that made it clear he was willing to remove every obstacle in his path if it brought him closer to his little brother.

Although Emilio had always thought of Mateo as some kind of older brother and he had never been short on things to say, he was finding it difficult to start a conversation now. Shortly after they left, he had asked some questions about Mateo’s time in prison, but Mateo clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He had also asked about the reason he had stabbed someone, knowing Juan had been bothered by the fact that he didn’t know. Mateo hadn’t told Emilio anything about it either, brushing it off with, “Let’s focus on this world first.”

Unlike the two rather quiet Americans, T’ukri had no trouble filling the silence. Like Iliyan, he knew a great deal about nature, pointing out all kinds of things and explaining what plants could be used for or sharing local stories whenever they came across a particular animal.

Mateo wasn't a big fan of his constant chatter—probably because he couldn’t understand a word of it—and it took a lot of concentration for Emilio to keep paying attention. It was exhausting, but at the same time it distracted him from the knot in his stomach. By learning more about Iliyan’s culture this way, he hoped he would also understand his friend better—which would hopefully help them make up.

He had already imagined countless scenarios in his head, ending in either a heated kiss or a slap across his face—but Emilio was completely unprepared when Iliyan suddenly stepped out from between the bushes.

His hand was tightly wrapped around his club as he cautiously looked at the three of them.

“Iliyan!” The name of the boy who had occupied his thoughts for days escaped his lips. It was so surreal to suddenly see him standing there. Here—in the middle of the wilderness!

His heart was pounding. As disgustingly sappy a cliché as it might be, there was nothing he wanted more than to hold the boy, to make sure he was really there. His body made the decision before his mind could: he ran toward Iliyan and threw his arms around him.

He could feel the warmth of Iliyan’s body through their clothes and tightened his grip. “I’m so sorry. I never should have said those horrible things.”

Iliyan didn’t move.

“I was angry, I was frustrated,” he tried to explain. “But that asshole isn’t like you. Like… like us.”

“Us?” He could see the confusion in Iliyan’s eyes. The warm gold in them immediately unleashed a whirlwind in Emilio’s stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Emilio said again. “I didn’t understand what I felt for you. And now… now I don’t understand how I could ever have denied it.”

Emilio’s hand moved to his jaw. He brought his face closer, his lips brushing Iliyan’s. Hopefully, it would make the resentment that had been raging through Iliyan’s body these past few days disappear.

Iliyan’s tongue met his, and they surrendered to a kiss that stirred up so much inside Emilio that he couldn’t believe he had ever been able to find something like this disgusting.

His cheeks burning, he pulled away from Iliyan.

“I missed you.”

Iliyan leaned forward again, claiming his lips. His arm slid around Emilio’s waist and pulled him against him.

Something drove into his back with a razor-sharp pain, again and again.

Emilio screamed. He stumbled backward, his eyes desperately searching Iliyan’s face.

His eyes were cold, an icy fire burning in them. In his hand was a knife dripping with blood.

“Do you think I’ll just forget what you said?” Iliyan scoffed, letting his gaze travel over Emilio. The contempt on his face was so intense that Emilio took another step backward.

He reached for his back, but couldn’t reach the wounds.

“What did you expect me to do? Take an overdose of pills, just like Erik?”

Through the dark forest of pain, he caught a glimpse of confusion. Erik? “I… I never wanted to…” He couldn’t get the words out, the pain seemed to cut off every letter he tried to force out.

“Isn’t that always your problem?” Iliyan sneered. “Doing things without thinking about the consequences? And then getting indignant when you don’t like those consequences?” The boy stepped closer, pressing his knife against Emilio’s throat. “If anyone doesn’t deserve to exist, it’s you.”

And with those words, he rammed the knife into Emilio’s throat.

Emilio shot upright. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. He immediately grabbed his throat. No blood, no cut skin. His shirt was sticking to his body and he felt nauseous. He gagged, though all that came up was acid.

It was dark. A fire flickered to his right. “Iliyan?” His voice trembled as he squinted at the silhouette sitting beside it.

“What’s wrong?” T’ukri answered and asked if he had had an unancha.

Emilio assumed that meant some like nightmare or dream, even though Iliyan had taught him that was musquy, or ati musquy—bad dream. So he just shrugged in response.

Even though it wasn’t cold, a shiver ran through him. He got up and moved closer to the fire.

“What did you dream about?”

“I don’t remember,” Emilio muttered. He had no desire to share his dream with anyone.

T’ukri studied his face. He clearly didn’t believe him and said the word unancha again. Emilio shook his head to show that he didn’t understand.

“Dream of the fire spirits,” he said then. “I do this, since we’ve been in the mountains.”

From what followed, Emilio gathered that T’ukri burned a mixture of plants in the flames every night. That attracted the fire spirits, which could send images of what awaited you through the smoke you inhaled.

“Their warnings can save your life.”

Emilio stared into the flames. Of course he didn’t believe a word of it. Fire spirits didn’t exist. And even if they did, they sure as hell wouldn’t waste their time on him.

And yet… There was a lump of ice in his stomach.

He moved his hand to the spot where Iliyan had stabbed him first. He could still feel the pain.

Maybe it hadn’t been a spirit that had sent him this vision, but he hadn’t dreamed this vividly since his fever dreams. At the very least, it was his common sense warning him. He might cling to the promise he had made Iliyan, but there was no guarantee that Iliyan still wanted his help.