Chapter 28
Luzia
The mud of the riverbank was a cold, greedy hand on my ankles.
I lay gasping, the world a dizzying smear of strobing searchlights and the relentless shriek of alarms from across the water.
Each pulse of that siren was a nail being hammered into the door of my old life.
I could never go back. Not now. The thought was a cold stone in my gut. I was an exile.
“We have to move.” Caio’s voice was a raw rasp beside me. He pushed himself to his knees, clutching the ornate Sussuron he’d thrust into my arms before we climbed from the water.
“Move where?” I whispered, the words tasting of river water and despair. “There is nowhere to go.”
“Anywhere but here.” He was right. The lights were getting closer. At least they weren’t coming for us. But I didn’t want to stay here and take the risk.
I followed Caio away from the river, plunging us into the oppressive darkness between the trees.
Branches clawed at us as he forced a path, my lungs burning, the alarms behind us finally fading to a dull, hateful throb in the distance.
His feet, acting on instinct, found the ghost of a path—an old, overgrown service road.
And there, half swallowed by vines, was a Jeep, a forgotten relic of the company’s expansion.
“Keys,” Caio urged, his voice tight with adrenaline. “Check for keys.” While I stood guard, he fumbled inside the cabin, his hands searching the usual spots until they emerged with a small jingle. He slid behind the wheel. “Get in.”
The engine roared to life, a profane sound in the sacred quiet.
He jammed the gears into drive, and the Jeep shot forward, its headlights slicing a frantic path through the jungle.
He drove with a desperate focus, wrestling the wheel as we bounced violently over the rutted track.
Trees blurred into a solid wall of green on either side.
After driving for what felt like hours, deeper and deeper into the jungle’s embrace, Caio finally eased his foot off the accelerator.
“We should be far enough away now,” he said, his voice strained from tension, not pain.
“I need a break.” He pulled the Jeep into a small, hidden clearing, shielded by the broad leaves of giant ferns, and killed the engine.
The sudden silence was terrifying, amplifying the frantic thumping of my heart.
The adrenaline that had fueled our flight finally abandoned me, leaving a hollow, bone-deep exhaustion in its place.
We were safe, for now. But for what? To continue a hopeless journey?
My home was lost to me. My sister… I couldn’t even finish the thought.
I collapsed to the ground beside the Jeep.
The silence that followed was terrifying.
I looked down at the Sussuron in my lap.
It was all I had left. It was the reason for my exile, and the only hope for my sister.
My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t get a proper grip.
The intricate carvings were slick with river water, mocking me with their secrets.
Failure, cold and absolute, began to creep in.
A choked sound, half sob and half gasp, escaped my throat.
The Sussuron, heavy with the weight of my failure, slipped from my nerveless fingers and thudded onto the damp earth.
The small sound cut through the quiet, and I saw Caio flinch.
He shifted from the driver’s seat and got out of the Jeep, his face tight with concern as he came around to my side.
“Let me,” Caio said softly. He kneeled in front of me, his face pale and strained in the faint moonlight filtering through the canopy.
He didn’t try to take the Sussuron. Instead, he placed his hands over mine, steadying them.
His touch wasn’t intimate or romantic—it was grounding, a simple, solid presence in the spinning chaos.
“We have it,” he said, his voice low and firm. “We just have to use it.”
His steadiness flowed into me. I took a deep, shuddering breath and focused. My fingers, now guided by his, traced the familiar lines of the pendant I wore. I pulled the wooden charm from beneath my wet shirt. It felt warm against my cold skin.
My eyes scanned the surface of the Sussuron, searching for a lock, an indentation, anything. My thumb brushed against a small, almost invisible seam on the side. With trembling focus, I pressed the tip of my pendant into the tiny crack.
A soft click, impossibly loud in the stillness, broke the silence. A hidden panel, no larger than my palm, slid open. It didn’t reveal a keyhole, but a series of intricate carvings that began to glow with a soft, ethereal light, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic thrum that matched my racing heart.
The carvings were more than decorations—they were a map, a celestial chart woven with the river’s flowing lines.
It was a language I knew in my bones, a story told in starlight and currents.
My breath caught in my throat. The Flor da Lua.
It wasn’t a place, but a moment in time when the river and the stars aligned.
“I know where it is,” I whispered, the words filled with a sudden, fierce awe. I held up the glowing panel, orienting it with the constellations I could see through the gaps in the trees. The glowing lines on the wood mirrored the stars in the sky.
“Where?” Caio’s voice was sharp with anticipation.
I pointed through the trees toward a bend in the river I knew well, a place where the water ran deep and quiet. “There. We have to go now. It will only appear when the moon is at its highest.”
My despair was burned away by a new, desperate purpose. I led the way into the oppressive dark, the glowing map held out as the only guide. Caio followed, a silent shadow at my back. Every snap of a twig sounded like a soldier’s footstep, every shadow seemed to hold a threat.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the carvings led me to a small clearing, bathed in the silver light of the rising moon. My breath caught in my throat. This was it.
But the clearing was empty. Barren. Devoid of life. No vibrant blossoms. No shimmering petals. No Flor da Lua.
“I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” Caio said, his voice strained, but I could hear the doubt creeping into his words. I shook my head, my heart plummeting into a cold abyss.
“No,” I whispered, the word heavy with despair. “It’s not.” The hope that had burned so brightly just moments before withered and died, leaving behind a desolate emptiness. Failure, bitter and suffocating, welled up inside me. I had failed Inaiá.
“Hey,” Caio said softly, his hand gently resting on my arm. “Don’t give up yet. The map must be right. Maybe we just missed it.” His voice held a forced optimism that I couldn’t muster.
“But it’s empty,” I said, my voice choked with frustration. “There’s nothing here.”
“Let me look around,” he insisted, his gaze sweeping the clearing and the surrounding trees. “Maybe it’s hidden. Or maybe the map leads to something else, something that will help us find the Flor da Lua.” He squeezed my arm reassuringly before turning away, his eyes scanning the undergrowth.
I sank to my knees, the weight of my failure pressing down on me. The soft earth offered no comfort. The river’s murmur, once soothing, now sounded like a mournful dirge. I closed my eyes, picturing Inaiá’s pale face, her weakening breaths. I had promised her hope, and I had brought back nothing.
A low growl ripped through the stillness, a sound that sent a shiver of primal fear down my spine. My eyes flew open.
A pair of luminous eyes, burning with predatory intent, pierced the darkness from the edge of the clearing. A jaguar, its sleek, muscular body a shadow against the moonlit trees, crouched low to the ground, its tail twitching nervously.
Terror, cold and paralyzing, seized me. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I could only stare, mesmerized by the deadly beauty of the creature before me.
The jaguar snarled, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated in the air. It took a step forward, its muscles bunching beneath its spotted coat.
“Caio!” I finally managed to choke out, the word a strangled gasp.
He spun around, his eyes widening in alarm as he saw the jaguar. Without hesitation, he lunged in front of me, shielding me with his body.
“Run, Luzia!” he yelled, his voice raw with urgency.
The jaguar sprang, a blur of muscle and teeth. I screamed as it collided with Caio, a sickening thud echoing through the clearing. The two figures tumbled to the ground, a tangle of limbs and snarls. The air filled with the stench of blood and fur.
I scrambled back, my heart pounding against my ribs. I wanted to run, to escape the horrific scene unfolding before me, but I couldn’t leave Caio. He was protecting me, sacrificing himself for me.
He grunted, a sound of pain and exertion, as he struggled against the jaguar’s weight. Its powerful jaws snapped inches from his face, its claws tearing at his clothes and skin.
My eyes darted around the clearing, searching for a weapon, anything to defend ourselves. Then I saw it. A thick branch, broken and jagged, lay near the edge of the clearing.
Scrambling to my feet, I lunged for the branch, my fingers closing around the rough bark. It was heavy and unwieldy, but it was all I had. With a guttural cry, I charged toward the jaguar, raising the branch high above my head.
The jaguar, momentarily distracted by its struggle with Caio, turned its head, its luminous eyes fixing on me. I brought the branch down with all my strength, aiming for its head. The wood connected with a sickening thud, a dull crack echoing through the clearing.
The jaguar roared in pain and surprise, releasing Caio and stumbling back. It shook its head, dazed, blood trickling from a gash above its eye. For a moment, it stood there, its eyes blazing with fury, its body tensed to spring.
Then, with a final snarl, it turned and disappeared into the darkness, melting into the shadows of the trees. The silence that followed was broken only by Caio’s ragged breaths and my trembling gasps. I dropped the branch, my arms shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline.
“Caio!” I rushed to his side, my voice thick with fear and relief. He lay on the ground, still and unmoving. “Caio, are you all right?”
He groaned, slowly pushing himself up onto his elbows. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and blood. Deep scratches raked across his arm, and his clothes were torn and stained. “I… I think so,” he rasped, his voice weak.
Relief washed over me, so potent it almost brought me to my knees. He was alive. But as he pushed himself up, a low moan escaped his lips, and my blood ran cold. His left arm hung limply at his side, and a dark stain was spreading across his shoulder, blossoming across torn fabric of his shirt.
“Caio!” I cried, scrambling to his side. “You’re hurt!”
He tried to smile, but it faltered, his face contorted in pain. “I… I’m okay,” he rasped, his voice strained.
“No, you’re not!” I said, my voice rising in panic. The sight of the blood, so dark against his skin, sent a wave of nausea through me.
“Let me see.” I gently reached for his arm, my fingers trembling. He winced as I touched his shoulder, and a hiss of pain escaped his lips.
“It’s just a scratch,” he mumbled, trying to pull away.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, my voice sharp with fear.
His shirt was soaked through, sticking to the wound. I carefully peeled it back, my breath catching in my throat at the sight of the deep gash. It was long and ragged, the flesh around it raw and inflamed.
“Caio…” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. This wasn’t just a scratch. It was really bad. He tried to shrug, but another wave of pain washed over him, and he slumped back against the ground, his eyes fluttering closed.
Panic clawed at my throat. We were alone, miles from help, and Caio was seriously injured.
The Flor da Lua, Inaiá’s dwindling hope, faded into the background.
All that mattered now was Caio.
The vastness of the jungle pressed in on me, the darkness was filled with unseen dangers. The river’s murmur, once a comfort, now sounded like a mournful lament. I looked down at Caio, his face pale and drawn in the moonlight, and a wave of despair washed over me.