PROLOGUE - 2006

A man stood in his hotel room near the Mayan ruins at Calakmul, Mexico, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he knotted the strings over a piece of ragged cloth.
“Señor, I have to go,” the young boy standing to the side said. He had remained silent while waiting for the package to be ready, but now the man was making him nervous.
“There, finished.” The man shoved the package into the boy’s arms. “Now, deliver this as quickly as possible, yes?”
The boy nodded.
“You remember where, right?” The man slipped a few pesos in the boy’s pocket. “Puerto Morelos. Now hurry!”
The boy took off, not looking back. The man shut the door of his hotel room and walked towards a desk. He stared at the candle sitting atop it, watching the flame flicker. “I think I’ve almost got it,” he whispered. “Almost.”
A gust of wind burst through the door, blowing the lights out and almost knocking the man down.
“Who’s there?” he called to the dark.
A woman stepped in. He could hear her heels clicking against the tile floor.
“I was afraid you’d come,” he said, breathing a silent prayer of thanks that he’d had the foresight and time to get the package out of his possession. “Please, I’m so close—”
“Enough,” the woman said. “You’re too close.” She twisted the man’s neck and let his body collapse to the floor. Then she coiled a rope around his neck and tied the other end to an exposed rafter in the ceiling, hoisting the body until the man’s feet swayed a few inches above the ground. Lastly, she carefully placed a chair upside down, a couple feet behind the body. Walking towards the door, she turned to look at the man one last time. “This was never meant to happen,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

CHAPTER 1 – October 2012

The TV in the living room blared.
“Hurricane Sandy has left tens of thousands homeless, millions without power, and has completely destroyed the Jersey Shore. Some are taking this to be a sign of the Mayan’s end of the world prediction. More reports are coming in of families giving up their homes, their possessions, and their lives to prepare for the end of 2012. Police have already stopped one attempt at a human sacrifice in the name of this cause…”
“That’s enough of that,” Cayden said, turning off the TV.
“Hey, I was watching that!” Amara, his roommate said. She was a petite 20-year-old, and as she looked at Cayden, her face betrayed her emotions. Her bright green eyes narrowed in indignation.
“We don’t need to get sucked in to all that crazy stuff.” Cayden stretched his arms. He was also 20 years old, with dark eyes and matching hair. Unlike Amara, he was tall, over six feet. They had met in the dorms their freshman year, and become close friends. After two years of studying together, going to the same parties, and helping each other hook up, they had decided they were comfortable enough as friends to try living together. “Besides, don’t you have a news meeting or something to go to?”
“Yeah, just a second.” Amara switched the TV back on. “I want to know more about what’s going on with these Maya predictions.” The screen panned over more images of Hurricane Sandy’s destruction—cities flooded, railroads washed away, and substations exploding. “Oh, never mind.”
“Always about the Mayans.” Cayden gently poked her in the ribs.
Amara’s phone vibrated, alerting her to a text message from Makenna, the editor-in-chief of The Eagle, the daily student newspaper where she worked. Where r u? “Shoot, I’ve got to go. See you later Cay!” Grabbing her bag, she ran out the door.


“About time you showed up,” Ace, the features editor, said. He was a big-boned guy, with close-cropped hair and a perpetual frown.
“Sorry, got caught up with something on the news,” Amara said, settling into a chair in the corner of the room. Ten people were crammed into an office the size of a closet, but the editors of The Eagle didn’t care. There was more camaraderie this way, which helped them get through their frequent all-nighters while everyone else at Laguna State enjoyed their time at college. Warm and sunny southern California made it easy to constantly party.
Ace snorted. “We’re supposed to be the news.”
Amara ignored him. After two years of being a staff writer and a couple months as the opinion editor, she had developed a thick skin. Or at least she was better at pretending to have one. She knew eventually she would have to work at being tougher, if she ever wanted to be a professional journalist. “Anyway I’ve got a story to pitch.”
“All right, let’s hear it,” Makenna said, pen ready.
“Well, you know how lots of people are going crazy over this end of the world stuff?”
“Allegedly—” Makenna winked.
“Yeah, so how about we write a feature about how it’s all bull? I mean, the last like ten predictions have proven not to be real, but people are still ruining their lives because of all the superstition. Plus now some people are trying to do human sacrifices?”
The room of people mumbled in agreement. They had all seen the news.
“It’s ridiculous how people are overreacting. I bet I could prove the Maya Calendar prediction is false.”
Ace huffed loudly. Makenna gave him a stern look, then turned to Amara. “How exactly would you approach it? There are tons of Maya stories out there already, so you’d need to be able to make yours stand out.”
Amara grinned. “My grandfather used to research the Maya. He figured out our family descended from the Maya, and I think I can use that to start. The story could be part exploration of my grandfather’s work, part investigative reporting. I’ll start doing some research, and get back to you on more details.”
“Sounds good,” Makenna said. “How soon can you have it?”
“Couple days? I’ll send you what I find and we can decide if it’s worth pursuing.”
“All right, let’s pencil it in the schedule. We can update it later. News meeting adjourned. Amara, get what you missed from Ace.”


Back at home, Amara went straight to her room.
“Where are you going?” Cayden asked.
“Gotta vlog!” she said, and shut the door. She opened her laptop and turned on the camera. After tinkering with the angle, she hit record.
“Hey guys, sorry for being MIA the past few days, but something big just happened. I’m getting my first feature story, well probably, and it’s going to be about…” she drummed her hands on the desk. “The end of the world! Or, more specifically, why the world will not be ending this December. Personally, I think the Maya Calendar is all a bunch of crap, and I want to prove it.
“I’m tired of all the depressing stories about people going crazy trying to save themselves before December 21. Just this morning I saw on the news a story about an attempt to sacrifice a human? It was—”
Amara shook her head, deciding it was better not to go into details. She didn’t want to add to the hype.
“Anyway, I’ll be logging all my research here, so stay tuned for all my exciting updates.”
“And post.” Amara uploaded the video, and then clicked on the stats page of her blog. Over fifty-thousand followers. She had been vlogging ever since her grandfather had committed suicide six years ago. What started as a deeply personal, cathartic project had quickly turned into a way to express her opinions. As she grew older, she had become more interested in how history shaped the world, and now spent her time researching and reporting her theories and analysis. Somehow she had found a niche and her vlog had caught on. Over the past year she had dabbled in Maya history, mostly looking at pictures of different ruins—her grandfather had been in Mexico, researching the Maya when he died. After the five-year anniversary of his passing, Amara had found herself becoming more and more curious about the strange circumstances surrounding his apparent suicide. He had been such a happy man, and she couldn’t understand what might have led him to take his own life.
He had always said he wished he had been an archaeologist, but it wasn’t until he retired from his accounting job that he had the time to explore other cultures. However, when Amara was a little girl, her grandfather pursued his passion as a hobby, starting with researching their family’s ancestry. He found out that somewhere down the line, they supposedly had ancestors who were Mayan, but Amara hadn’t cared at the time. Her parents had joked that it may have been their family who had predicted the end of the world in 2012, which had always frustrated Amara’s grandfather, because took his work seriously.
Satisfied, Amara closed her laptop and went to the living room to find Cayden.

“How was work?” Cayden asked, eyes glued to his own laptop.
Amara grabbed a banana and started peeling it. “All right. Ace was being a dick again, but I think I got my first big story.”
“Cool.” He didn’t bother to look up. Amara could hear the sounds of a cartoon.
“What are you up to? Don’t you have a midterm coming up?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I’m just taking a break.” He yawned. “Linguistics can be tiring. Besides, I’ve still got a couple days to study.”
“All right, I’ll leave you to it.”
Amara knew she needed to do some studying of her own, but she couldn’t resist returning to her room to check her vlog for comments. She was addicted. When she logged in though, she saw she had been hacked. Some of her content was deleted, and a strange box popped up on her screen. She felt her heart in her throat as she read the message.
Don’t write your story.

It said. Stop before it’s too late.

CHAPTER 2 - Around 900 A.D.

“You can’t catch me!” Mahaway, a woman of one katun,or 20 years, and the youngest scribe in her city, said. She giggled while running, her long dark hair covering her face as she looked back at her best friend since childhood, Yochi.
“It’s not fair. You’re too fast,” Yochi said. He breathed heavily as he stumbled to catch up. “I need a moment.” He stopped to slap his pudgy stomach. “We astronomers don’t get out much.”
“Yes, poor you, looking at the stars each night and figuring out how the world works.” Mahaway came back to give her friend a poke. “What a terrible life.”
“Don’t you have places to be?” Yochi glared at Mahaway. He was proud of his work as an astronomer. His mentor had recently rewarded him for his latest calculations charting a more accurate Haab calendar—the one that determined the seasons.
“Not for a few more hours.” Mahaway brushed her hair out of her face. “Queen K’abel doesn’t need me until after nightfall.” Her green eyes shone as she thought of her beloved queen. Mahaway was young, but she was one of the city’s brightest scribes, and Queen K’abel often rewarded her analytical skills and writing abilities with free afternoons.
“I see. So you’re going to spend that time torturing me.” Yochi grinned.
“No dear, silly friend.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on! Now’s the best time and we don’t want to miss it.”
“Where are we going?” Yochi huffed, still recovering from their short game of chase.
“You’ll see,” Mahaway said, leading him up a dirt path.
Moments later, the two of them were standing atop a hill overlooking their city, the fading light casting a luminous glow on the structures laid out below them.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mahaway whispered.
Yochi reached over and touched her hand. “Yes,” he said as he watched the sky turn orange and purple and red.
From their hill they could clearly see the queen’s palace, with its steep staircase that led up to what looked like a giant, square eye. They stood together for a moment, content—the world silent and peaceful.
Mahaway started humming her and Yochi’s favorite tune. It was a lullaby their mothers had sung to them as children, when they sometimes slept over at each other’s homes.
Yochi joined in, softly singing the words:
Conex, conex palanxen, xicubin, xicubin yocolquin.
Conex, conex palanxen, xicubin, xicubin yocolquin.
Xola mayola, xola mayol, ea, ea, ea, o.
Conex, conex palanxen, xicubin, xicubin yocolquin.
The two friends made it through one round of the song, and then the horns sounded.
“That can’t be what I think it is.” Yochi grabbed Mahaway’s hand and squeezed it in fear.
Mahaway stiffened. “What is it, Yochi?”
Yochi pointed up. The sky was darkening, and in the haze between the dark blue and pink was a bright white ball, almost the size of the moon.
“Venus,” Yochi said. “War.”

CHAPTER 3 - October 2012

Amara determined the best place to start researching her story was at the school library. After the initial scare from the hackers wore off, she decided she would be true to her journalistic aspirations and continue to work on her story. Fortunately she had a backed up version of her vlog, so she was able to restore it without any problems.

Amara had high hopes walking into the building, and she smiled as she approached the student library assistant at the front desk. He was cute, with dimples and a nametag that read Grant.

“Hello, be with you in one minute.” A stack of books lay on the desk next to him, and he was busy stamping the inside covers. When he looked up and saw Amara, he stopped. “Can I help you?”

Amara’s heart fluttered for a second. Then she remembered her mission. “Yes, I’m writing a feature for The Eagle, about the Mayan end of the world predictions. Do you have any books about the Maya?”

“Cool, you’re a reporter.” Grant frowned as he thought. “Off the top of my head, I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Amara said, disappointed.

“But wait a second.”

Amara watched as Grant dashed inside a small office behind the desk. After waiting for a few moments, she felt awkward standing alone.

Here you go.” Grant emerged from the office and handed her a book called The Myths of Mexico and Peru. “Flip through this. There’s probably something about the Mayans in there.”

Amara opened the book to the table of contents. At least two chapters were about the Maya. She turned to the first one and started reading. Then she felt Grant’s stare so she looked up. “I’ll take it.”

“Great,” Grant said. He gestured for her to follow him to the computer. “I’ll check you out right here.” He blushed. “I mean, the book.”

Amara nodded, trying to think of something clever to say, but she was also too eager to get back to her book. The first couple pages she had skimmed were about the Popul Vuh, the Mayan Book of the People that contained stories of creation and heroes. She wanted to learn more.

“Come back anytime,” Grant said.

“What?” Amara had been lost in her thoughts.

“Oh just—I’ll check to see if we have more stuff on the Maya. Here, why don’t you give me your email and I can let you know if I find anything else?” He tore off a piece of paper from a notebook sitting on the corner of the desk and handed Amara a pen. “I’m Grant, by the way.”

Amara was torn. She wanted to collect enough research to get the green light on her story so she could start getting recognition as a journalist, but she also wanted to stick around and talk to Grant some more.

She took the pen. “I’m Amara. Sometimes it takes me a while to check my email, so here’s my number too, just in case.” Willing herself not to blush, she gave the paper to Grant. “Text me anytime.”

“Great. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thanks.” Amara flashed him a smile as she left, happy she could use journalism as an excuse to flirt.

Once she was home, she decided to go online and do more research. She bought a couple ebooks, The Mayan Code and Maya 2012 Revealed, to read later on her tablet. Then she went to Wolfram Alpha, a fairly new search engine that relied on expert knowledge. Typing “Mayans” in the search box yielded some interesting results, mostly timelines, but nothing particularly useful. So she went back to Google.

“That looks promising,” Amara said, clicking on a link. It was for an article titled, “Experts meet to discuss Maya calendar, debunk end-of-world stories.” The article said that archaeologists and anthropologists had met at the beginning of October to talk about how the world would not end in December and how the Mayans had made some prophesies, but nothing fatalistic.

“Shoot,” Amara muttered. “Wish I had known about that sooner—maybe I could have gone.” Her eyes lit up as she read more. One of the experts was a Professor Brown, and he taught at Laguna State. Amara opened a new tab to her school’s website, and found Professor Brown’s email. She quickly wrote him a message, asking if she could have an interview.

“All right, one source down.” The unofficial rule of The Eagle was that stories needed to have at least three sources. Amara smiled and opened another tab to start a new search. The next website contained information on a Maya 2012 exhibit at the University of Pennsylvania Museum that debunked the myths. “Damn, that’s too far away,” Amara said. She continued her search.

The Royal Ontario also had an exhibit, but it had closed in April. Just as Amara was about to close that tab, she saw a link to some videos. She clicked on the one called, 2012: What did the Maya think? It was a short clip that explained part of the Mayan calendar. According to the video, the Maya used baktuns, which are calendar cycles equal to 394 years. Doing a little more research, Amara found that the Maya had multiple calendars and cycles. There were at least three different dating systems in parallel: the Tzolkin, the Haab, and the Long Count. The Long Count was the calendar that supposedly predicted the end of the world, and it was comprised of kin, the equivalent of a day. Twenty kin equaled an uinal, eighteen uinal equaled one tun—approximately 360 days or one year—twenty tun equaled one katun, and twenty katun equaled roughly one baktun. The Long Count lasted 5,125 years, and of course was due to end on December 21, 2012, which would also be the winter solstice. But what fascinated Amara the most was the fact that the calendar supposedly began on August 11, 3114 B.C., during the solar zenith passage in southern Maya latitudes, and the Maya had mysteriously stopped making carvings and calendars around 900 A.D.

Excited, Amara typed up some notes and sent them to Makenna, telling her she already had one potential interview.

“What are you doing?”

Amara jumped out of her seat. She turned to glare at Cayden. “You scared me half to death.”

Cayden chuckled. “Sorry, you just looked so intense, staring at your screen…I couldn’t resist.” He peeked over her shoulder. “So more Mayans, huh?”

“Yes, more Mayans.” Amara clicked on another link. “It’s actually really interesting.”

“That looks cool.” Cayden pointed to the screen. PBS had an interactive site corresponding to a NOVA program they had done, called Cracking the Maya Code. “Move over, I want to see.” Cayden took Amara’s seat and started trying to read the stela.

“Hey, I was doing something,” Amara said.

“Sorry, the linguistics major in me is taking over.” He turned briefly and grinned at Amara. “You’ll just have to wait.” He looked around the site some more. “Can I help you with your research? This stuff is actually pretty interesting.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Amara said. Then she saw the clock on her laptop. “Shoot, I’m late for my history midterm. Gotta go!”


Amara ducked into the room and started her test right away. Class was already more than halfway over, so she had to rush. She scribbled as fast as she could, but in her haste she ended up making up some of her answers. Embarrassed that she had been so late, she turned in her paper without looking at her professor and ran out the door.

She decided to walk home instead of taking her bike, so that she would have time to think of ways to make up her grade for the midterm she had probably just failed. Her phone vibrated, alerting her to two new emails. She swiped her screen, and saw the first one was from Makenna, giving her the go-ahead for her feature and setting a deadline for it. She had two weeks. Amara had to resist jumping up and down; she was so excited.

The second email was from Professor Brown. He said he’d be happy to meet with Amara, but that he’d have to meet her right away in his office before he left for home. Amara checked the email’s time stamp—it had been sent ten minutes ago. In her adrenaline rush, Amara called Cayden.

“Cay, guess what!”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“Got my first interview for my story! It’s with Professor Brown—he’s a history teacher here who knows about the Maya Calendar. But I have to go to his office right now, before he leaves for the day.”

“Where is it? I’ll meet you.”


They met in front of the library. On the way to Professor Brown’s office, Amara’s phone vibrated again.

“What’s that?” Cayden said.

Amara checked her phone and rolled her eyes. “Just a stupid text from Ace. He’s the features editor, so technically I have to report to him. He’s being a douche and demanding updates on my story, even though Makenna just emailed me saying they won’t run it for two weeks. I’ll tell him I’ll email him later.”

Amara typed as quickly as she could before they got to Professor Brown’s door. “Ok done,” she said. “Ready?”

Cayden nodded, and Amara knocked.

“Yes?” Professor Brown said when he answered. He was a large, wheezy man, and his office was cramped and full of books and loose stacks of paper. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Amara—the reporter who emailed you earlier? And this is my colleague, Cayden. We came as soon as I got your email—I didn’t want to risk missing you.”

Professor Brown furrowed his brow. “Hm, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought I just read an email from you that said you wouldn’t be able to make it? That’s odd.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Amara felt a knot in her stomach. She wondered if the hackers had gotten into her email account too. Wanting to be professional, she tried to forget her paranoia and concentrate on the task at hand. “Sorry if there’s any confusion, but I’d definitely like to interview you today.”

Professor Brown gestured them in. “All right then, let’s get started.”


An hour later, Amara had ten pages of notes and a little better idea of the Maya Calendar. Unfortunately, Professor Brown had been overzealous in sharing his knowledge of Mayan rituals and habits and culture, so she didn’t have much new information on the Calendar. Amara comforted herself with the thought that she had at least gotten a recipe for balchė, an ancient alcoholic drink made from bark and sweetened with honey. She made a mental note to try it later.

“Well that was kind of a waste,” Amara said to Cayden as they walked home. “Sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” Cayden said. “That was cool. We learned all kinds of stuff, and now maybe I can make more sense of their language.”

Amara finished locking up her bike before Cayden, so she was first to the door. Taped to the doorknob was a strange note, on aging yellow paper with barely legible scribbling. Amara squinted to read it.

“These secrets aren't yours to tell," it said. “Stop now or we will be forced to harm Cayden.” The rest of the note contained a series of strange symbols:


“What’s that?” Cayden asked, coming up behind her.

“Oh, nothing.” Amara crumpled up the paper and shoved it in her jacket pocket.

CHAPTER 4 - Around 900 A.D.

“Mahaway, what are you doing? We need to get back to work.” Yochi frowned as he watched his partner lazily scratch circles in the dirt in front of the large rock they had been assigned. They were transcribing the latest tales of their new King, Jasaw Chan K'awiil II.
“Jasaw will be disappointed if this is not finished before the end of the month.”
“Relax Yochi, we’ll finish,” Mahaway murmured.
“We only have three more days.” Yochi took away Mahaway’s stick.
“Hey!” she said. “I was doing something.”
“Didn’t look like anything to me. Now come on, get back to work. I don’t want to face the consequences if we—”
“If you what, Yochi?” Nacon, one of the top soldiers of Jasaw’s army, stepped out from behind the uncarved boulder. He was tall with bulging muscles, and his uniform was almost too small for him. He had an air of self-assuredness.
Yochi stiffened. “Nothing. There’s nothing to be concerned with here.”
“Oh no?” Nacon strolled around the rock, touching his hand along the rough outlines they had begun to etch. “If I were you, I’d be concerned. You only have three days left to finish and it looks like you’ve barely started this stela. You know King Jasaw would hate that.”
“Come back in three days. You’ll see.” Mahaway had gotten up and brushed the dirt off her scribe’s robes. She looked Nacon in the eye.
“Mahaway, you look lovely as ever,” Nacon said. “I’d hate to see you have to be punished.” He walked over to her, brushing his hand down her waist and letting it linger on her thigh. “Maybe I’ll be the one to carry it out,” he whispered.
Mahaway took a step back. “Excuse us,” she said. “We have to get back to work.”
“Yes, by all means.” Nacon turned and started walking away. “I’ll be back in three days.”
Yochi waited for Nacon to be out of earshot, and then breathed a sigh of relief. “He can be intimidating.” He turned to Mahaway. “Are you ok?”
Mahaway looked as if she were far away. “Sure. At least we don’t have to make weapons.” She jerked her head towards the workshop down the road, where workers had to spend their days crafting arrowheads from obsidian—fatal objects that would someday be used to kill their own kin.
Yochi broke into a smile and slapped his best friend on the back. “Good. Now back to the rock.”
Rolling her eyes, Mahaway trudged back to the boulder. How could things go so wrong in such a short amount of time? Just a few weeks ago she and Yochi were happy, allowed to roam freely in the hills. Then Venus came to invade their sky, accompanied by war horns, and soon soldiers followed. Now every day was spent building something—pyramids, ceramics, stelae. All to show King Jasaw’s glory. His glory of bloodshed and murder, which he had started by decapitating their beloved queen.
“I need a minute,” Mahaway said. She stomped off, too lost in her thoughts to notice where she was headed. Before she realized it, she had walked out of the city. Amazed she had been allowed to leave, she took a hard look at her surroundings, trying to memorize every fern and vine that was living free. Not looking where she was walking, Mahaway lost her footing. She screamed, trying to catch herself, but it was too late. She had fallen through a hole, and now she was sliding down into a dark cavern.
Helpless, Mahaway let herself fall, and soon found herself flat on the floor of a strange room. What is this place? she thought, taking it all in. Bits of hieroglyphs were scratched onto the rough walls, and the room was mostly bare, except for a small chair in the corner. Before she had any time to look closely, Yochi called.
“Mahaway!” His voice echoed. “Are you all right?”
“I think so. How did you get past the guards?”
“I followed you. Well, first I threw a rock in the bushes, and told them I thought I saw a poisonous snake. When they weren’t looking at me, I snuck out. Not the brightest bunch.” Yochi chuckled. “Hold on. I’ll find some rope and get you out.”
A few moments later, Yochi grabbed Mahaway’s hand as she climbed out.
“So what was down there anyway?” Yochi asked.
Mahaway brushed dirt off her clothes. “I think it was some sort of secret room. Anyway, that’s enough for today. Let’s head home, and worry about the stela tomorrow.”


Together they walked back to their city, Ox Te- Tuun. Mahaway slid her arm through Yochi’s, making him blush. For a moment they could pretend they still lived their lives pre-war.
“Mahaway, I worry about you,” Yochi said.
“Mmm.”
“Someday your carelessness will get you into trouble. And what if I’m not around to save you?”
Mahaway sighed. She cared deeply for Yochi, but sometimes found his overprotectiveness irksome. “Oh Yochi, you know—”
Yochi jumped when he heard a loud crack. A man had just rammed his cart into the side of a building, trapping another man. They were screaming at each other, the trapped man trying to push the cart away while the other man slapped at the cart in anger. Stalks of maize fell from the cart, and several children rushed to pick them up. The man with the cart noticed, and he started chasing the children in circles. The trapped man freed himself, then caught up with the other man and punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground. A crowd started to gather, and it wasn’t long until other men joined in the fighting. The women stayed at the edges of the scuffle, yelling at the men to stop and calling their children to safety. Blood started to mix in with the fallen maize.
Mahaway and Yochi stood on the outskirts and watched, Mahaway shaking her head. Her fists and jaw clenched.
“This is the result of war! The streets aren’t safe because we have to fight for food and water. People are getting scared. We have to stop this!” Mahaway raised her hand, ready to join the fray.
Yochi grabbed her, forcing her hand down. “Not here, not now.” He pushed her down another street, away from the mob. “This is what I’m talking about.”
Mahaway hissed through gritted teeth. “Something needs to be done. If this is happening after just a few weeks, what will happen in a month? Two months? Who knows how long this may last.”
“I know, Mahaway.” Yochi gently stroked his friend’s face. “But you need to stay calm for now. We have to be smart.”
“I know, I know. It’s just—shh, hold on.” Mahaway went completely stiff. She backed up against a wall, gesturing for Yochi to do the same.
“What? What’s going on?” Yochi said.
Mahaway pushed her hand hard against his mouth. “Hush,” she mouthed, jerking her head to the right. Around the corner, Kish, one of the king’s advisors, was yelling at a guard.
“You have to have tighter control over your city. Too many outbreaks and these peasants may start getting ideas. We’re so close now, and we can’t risk fighting within our conquered territories. What if they got angry enough to start tearing things down? What if they found—”
“Kish! Kish!” A soldier ran up to them, panting heavily. “You’re needed. Now.”
“Oh, what is it this time?” All three men headed towards the palace being built on top of the pyramid.
“What was that about?” Mahaway said, when the men were out of earshot.
“Mmpf.”
“Oh, sorry.” Mahaway took her hand off Yochi’s mouth.
Yochi wiped his face with his sleeve. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to find out.”
But I’m going to, Mahaway thought.

CHAPTER 5 - November 2012

“Hate to always be asking, but don’t you have a news meeting to go to?” Cayden eyed Amara as she frantically typed on her laptop.

“Yeah, yeah, but I’ve got to update my vlog.” She bit her lip and continued typing. Since her interview with Professor Brown, Amara hadn’t found any new information for her story. Discouraged, but still hopeful, Amara wrote a post outlining what she knew of her grandfather’s research, how he had spent some time in Mexico studying the ancient Maya and she was hoping to find his old notes for her own story. “All right, done.”

She slammed her laptop shut, grabbed her lucky arrowhead and put it in her pocket. It was clunky and shaped more like a square than a traditional arrowhead, but despite its awkward appearance, Amara treasured it. Her grandfather had bequeathed the arrowhead to her in his will, and it made her feel close to him and safe. It had been five days since she had gotten that threatening note, and she felt she needed some sort of security. For the last five days she had carried her arrowhead with her wherever she went.

Amara didn’t want to tell Cayden about the note yet, at least not before she figured out what it meant. As a precaution, she had started taking Krav Magra classes. If she could protect herself, she reasoned, she could probably also protect Cayden.

“See you later Cay!”

Amara walked out her door and checked the mailbox. For a moment, she felt a knot in her stomach, but she relaxed when she saw nothing there. Relieved, she hopped on her bike and rode the couple blocks to The Eagle’s office.


“All right, for once you’re on time,” Ace said, giving Amara the slow clap.

Amara brushed past him to the news meeting room. “Whatever.”

“Ok, people, let’s do this,” Makenna said.

As everyone sat down and got settled, Amara’s phone vibrated. She quickly checked her text. The message was from Grant. Found another source, it read, Better get over here, quick ;).

“Umm, Makenna?”

Makenna was busy jotting down notes from an email on to her clipboard. “Yeah?”

“I’ve got to go—something important about my story came up. I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can and I’ll get what I missed from Ace.”

Makenna sighed and looked hard at Amara. “Fine. Just make sure you can get your job done.”

“Thanks!” Amara dashed out of the office and ran to her bike.


“I’m here!” Amara said, out of breath.

“Amara, great to see you.” Grant flashed her a dimpled smile.

“Oh yeah, you too.” Amara brushed her hair out of her face and willed herself to not sweat. “So what do you have for me that couldn’t wait?”

“Here you go.” He took a book out from under the desk and handed it to Amara. “This just came in today. I flipped through it already, and it looks like it might help. Take a look.”

The book was called An Illustrated Dictionary of the Gods and Symbols of Ancient Mexico and the Maya. Amara paged through it, intrigued. The images of the gods and symbols fascinated her, though she was a little disappointed there was nothing about the Calendar.

“That one’s cool.” Grant was hovering over Amara’s shoulder.

“The Maize God?”

“Yeah. According to the myths, the Maya believed their ancestors came from maize. There are a few different stories mentioned in there, but my favorite one involves the Maize God being the ‘First Father’ and basically establishing the world.”

“Interesting.” Amara started to read the entry Grant had indicated. It mentioned the Maize God was connected to the base date of the Maya Calendar, 4 Ahau 8 Cumku.

“So how’s your research going?”

“Hm?” Amara had almost forgotten where she was. “Oh right. It’s going pretty well—I’m learning a lot. Still working on debunking some myths.” She held up the book. “This will help a lot though. Thanks.” She handed him her student ID card.

“Great,” Grant said, swiping the card. “By the way, your other book is overdue. But it’s ok, I’ll waive the fees just this once.” He winked.

Amara smiled as she left the library. Grant was good-looking and seemed interested in her, but after her second time seeing him she wasn’t sure she liked him that way. He was nice, but she had felt more of a rush the first time they met, when she gave him her phone number. Besides, she decided, she was too focused on pursuing her story to have any kind of relationship with him.

But there was one problem. Amara didn’t know what her next step in her story should be. Exhaling, she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. She felt something in her left pocket, so she fished it out and saw the crumpled note that had been left on her door. The strange glyphs at the bottom of the note stared back at her, seeming to mock her inability to decipher them. Frustrated, she crammed the note into her right pocket, brushing her fingers against the arrowhead lying there. Her hands closed around it instinctively.

Then an idea hit her. She smiled as she pulled the arrowhead out of her pocket, silently thanking her grandfather for showing her the way. If she wanted to find out more about the Calendar, she would have to go to an actual Maya scholar. She would have to go back to Professor Brown.


“Well, Amara, what a nice surprise,” Professor Brown said, ushering her into his office. “So you’ve got more questions about the Maya?”

Amara set her bag down and cleared her throat. “Yes, erm, I was wondering if you could help me translate something.” She handed him a piece of paper with the Maya glyphs on it—she didn’t want anyone to know about the threat, so she had copied only the glyphs onto a separate piece of paper.

Professor Brown studied the paper for a moment. “Yes, I recognize some of these characters. There’s something here about ‘head’…but I’m not sure about the rest.” He handed the paper back to Amara. “How did you come up with this?”

Amara shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “Just saw it on the Internet and thought it’d be fun to add in to my story. So how can I translate the rest of it?”

“Well I’m not aware of any sources around here that could help, but there’s a small bookstore in Puerto Morelos, Mexico, full of archives, and information. Alma Libre, I believe it’s called. It’s also where a lot of Maya scholars share their findings. Very interesting place. Near Cancun, but much more fascinating.” He winked. “Of course, there are probably some online resources too, but I’m not familiar with any of them. I always preferred going to Mexico to study.”

“Thanks, Prof. Brown,” Amara said, already planning in her head how she could get to Mexico.

CHAPTER 6 - Around 900 A.D.

They only had two days left, but Mahaway had no intention of finishing the stela. To her, creating a monument honoring the killing of her friends and family would mean accepting a fate of enslavement and fear. She would rather risk her life and fight for her freedom—she just didn’t know how to go about it yet.
Mahaway watched as Yochi chipped away at their rock. His brow furrowed as he worked, though whether it was from stress or concentration Mahaway did not know. After years of being best friends with Yochi, Mahaway knew he was the type who would rather appease than fend for himself. The simplest choices made him happy, and oftentimes that meant he enjoyed his assigned tasks.
Shaking her head, Mahaway tapped Yochi on the shoulder.
He looked up. “Huh? What is it Mahaway?”
“Remember that room we accidentally found yesterday? I want to find it again.”
“But we have work to—”
“Yochi! When will we get this chance again? Once this stela is finished, they’ll probably lock us up. I’ve heard rumors that King Jasaw is rounding up all the scribes and astronomers—for what reason I do not know. This could be our last chance.” Mahaway started pacing. “Please. I need to know what’s in that room.”
Yochi sighed, looking wistfully at the rock. “Fine. Lead the way.”
Mahaway jumped up and down in excitement. “Thank you, thank you Yochi!” She took his hand and walked the path she had followed the day before, using the same trick Yochi had used to get past the guards. This time they pretended they saw a jaguar. Soon she found the hidden tunnel, tucked away between two rocks. It was barely noticeable, except for an area of flattened moss next to it, where Mahaway had slipped and fallen.
“This is it,” she said, a gleam in her eye. “But be careful, it’s steep.”
Yochi nodded, looking uncomfortable. “Only for you.”
They went through the tunnel slowly, one careful step at a time. After what felt like hours to Mahaway, they made it to the bottom.
Yochi stared at the hieroglyphs in awe. “Amazing,” he muttered, walking closer to inspect them. “These look like some sort of notes—on cycles of some sort.” He pointed to a group of symbols on the wall. “But they don’t quite make sense.”
Mahaway wasn’t paying attention. The room looked different, somehow. She had remembered seeing a chair, but now it was missing. “Yochi? Did you hear that?” Mahaway moved closer to him.
Yochi was too engrossed by the writing on the wall. “Now if I read that correctly, and assumed that was right, then it could be…”
“Yochi!”
“What?” Yochi looked irritated.
“I heard a noise. I think someone else might be here.”
“You’re crazy Mahaway. You even said so yourself yesterday: this is a secret room. It looks like it hasn’t been used in years. Now let me get back to these calculations…”
Mahaway saw something move out of the corner of her eye. A flash of a leg going up the tunnel. She ran over and grabbed it. “Aha! What’s this?”
Down tumbled a young man, only 16 or 17 years old by the look of him. He rolled over and took a fighting stance, growling.
Yochi ran in front of Mahaway, holding his arms out. “Get back Mahaway. He might be dangerous.”
“Yochi, stop.” Mahaway pushed her way in front of him. She stared at the young man, trying to read his eyes. They looked young and frightened. “It’s ok,” she said, lowering her voice. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
Yochi relaxed a little, until he noticed the young man’s uniform. “He’s a soldier! Get back!”
The young man flexed his muscles and tried to stand straighter. But he was too skinny to look threatening. Mahaway moved closer to him, and he backed away.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
He stared at her a moment, before answering. “Ichik. And your friend is right. I am one of King Jasaw’s soldiers, so if you want to live, you’d better forget about all this.”
“Yes, yes, anything you say,” Yochi said.
“Wait,” Mahaway said. “This doesn’t make sense. Why would you be here unless you’re…” She gasped. “A deserter?”
Yochi got back in front of Mahaway. “We have to turn you in,” he said, eyes wide with fear. He tried to grab Ichik, but Ichik was too quick. Before Yochi had any time to react, he was on the ground, his breath knocked out of him.
“Stop! Stop!” Mahaway said. “We won’t turn you in. Promise.”
Ichik took a step closer to her, searching her eyes for the truth. After a few seconds, he seemed convinced. “You know what this means if you’re caught, right?”
Yochi gasped and choked on the ground, shaking his head violently.
Mahaway nodded solemnly. “Death.”

CHAPTER 7 - November 2012

Amara was excited as her plane descended into Cancun. It had taken a lot of convincing, but after hours of begging, yelling, and threatening, she had talked her family into letting her skip Thanksgiving and go to Mexico. This story was her big chance, she had said. She purposely didn’t mention anything about her grandfather, though she knew her parents were thinking it. Instead she promised to visit a couple more times next quarter, since they only lived a three-hour drive away.

Besides, she had told them, Puerto Morelos was less than an hour away from Cancun, a fairly safe part of the country. Finally her parents had relented, and now she couldn’t wait to settle in and find Alma Libre, the bookstore with the Maya archives.

The view from the plane was enchanting. Amara watched as the flat, green land turned into jagged buildings juxtaposed with bright white sand. She wondered what the ancient Mayans would have thought about shiny metal buildings and the ability to fly.

As soon as she landed and went through immigration, Amara hailed a cab and headed to Puerto Morelos. It was even more beautiful than Cancun, with long stretches of beach, and a sense of tranquility and contentment. Buildings were smaller and cozier, with a more familiar feel.

She decided to head straight to the bookstore, and check in at her hotel later. As soon as she saw the bookstore, she knew she had made the right choice. The store was welcoming, with bright lights and shelf after shelf of books. Most of the books were used, which Amara felt gave them a certain charm. It had been a while since she had felt nostalgic about print books, but something about the shop made them seem more precious, like they had their own memories.

“¿Puedo ayudarle?” An elderly man popped up from behind a mountain of books. He had a mild Mexican accent, and his nametag read, Jorge.

“Sorry—er…no hablo Español.” Amara blushed.

Jorge broke into a smile. “It’s okay. I just asked if I could help you.”

“Yes, please. I need to do some research on the classic Maya.”

“Wonderful. It’s so rare these days for Maya scholars to come by. Ever since Aaron Rivera…well I shouldn’t talk about it.”

Amara perked up. Jorge’s hesitation intrigued her. “What about Aaron Rivera? I came here to learn as much as possible about the Maya, so may as well start there.”

Jorge’s smile faded. “It’s a sad story. But basically, he was one of the best Maya scholars. He was an American, but he used to come visit here a lot—often for months at a time. We became friends. The last time he was here, he spent a lot of his time going back and forth between Puerto Morelos and Calakmul, where some of the ruins are. One night he called me, and said he had some big news, some big break that could help us all understand Maya civilization and history. He said he’d come back to Puerto Morelos and tell me in person. But then a few days later, rumors were going around that he had killed himself.”

“I didn’t believe it at first,” Jorge said, “you know he wasn’t that kind of guy, so I went to the hotel he’d been staying at. They told me he had been found hanging in his room, and that someone had already collected all his things.” He took a deep breath. “Whew, it’s been a while since I’ve told that story. Most Maya scholars stopped coming around here after that, bad karma or something. And I’ve just kept it to myself ever since.”

Amara tried to comfort the man. “I’m sorry to hear about your loss, but when did this happen? I have a professor who recommended I come here.”

“Sure, a few scholars here and there have stopped by,” Jorge said, regaining his composure. “This happened, oh almost six years ago now.”

Amara paled.

“What’s wrong, señorita?”

“My grandfather—he was in Mexico six years ago. He killed himself too, in Cal—Calakmul. His name wasn’t Aaron Rivera though. It was Allen Randall. But that has to be him, right? He was obsessed with the Maya. When I was little, I remember his study was filled with books, and notes, and—it can’t be just a coincidence.”

Jorge shook his head. “I don’t know, señorita, but it does sound plausible. You know, there was one strange thing.”

“What?” Amara had to use all her will power not to lean into Jorge. But if Aaron Rivera was her grandfather, she wanted to know everything.

“Well, right before I found out he…passed away…a boy delivered a package. He said he got a strange call in the middle of the night to bring it to me, that the sender was Señor Rivera, and he had told the boy I should hold on to the package for a couple days. But it wasn’t exactly a package. Just a rag wrapped around an arrowhead. Anyway, the boy said if I didn’t hear from Señor Rivera after a few days, then I was to mail it to the address attached—somewhere in California. So I did.”

Amara bit her tongue. It had to be the same arrowhead her grandfather had bequeathed her, but she didn’t want to say anything yet. Jorge seemed nice enough, she just didn’t know yet if she could trust him. Her eyes watered at the thought that her grandfather spent some of his final days in Alma Libre, and she looked around, imagining him perusing the books.

She blinked back her tears. “Can you please show me whatever you have in your archives? I have to do some research, now.”

Amara spent the next two days holed up in the bookstore. She read every text, looked at every possible glyph, and studied all the pictures she could find of the ruins at Calakmul. She pieced together more of her secret threatening note, something about body and head, but she soon dropped her translation attempts as she became too preoccupied researching what were potentially her grandfather’s last days. There wasn’t much to know, other than facts about ancient Maya life and when they built their pyramids.

At the end of her second day in the store, Jorge came up to her, with a big smile. “I found something that may help.” He held out a piece of yellowing, torn paper. “I just remembered Aaron, or Allen, if it’s the same man, gave this to me the night before he left for Calakmul. It was a page from his journal, though I was never able to find his journal after his death. He also gave me some other items, but I can’t remember where they are anymore.”

Amara took the paper. It was a drawing of her arrowhead, the exact same size and shape. As she looked at the sketch, she realized that if her grandfather had trusted Jorge, she could too. She pulled out her arrowhead from her pocket. “It’s the same, it has to be. Aaron Rivera was Allan Randall.”

Jorge’s eyes widened with excitement. “Dios Mío! You are Aaron Rivera’s granddaughter?” He wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “That is wonderful to know.”

Amara smiled and hugged him back. He felt warm, and she was reminded of her grandfather. Then her phone rang, and she had to let go. “Sorry. I promised my parents I’d always answer.”

“Hello?” she said when she picked up.

“Yes, may I please speak to Amara Randall?”

“This is she.”

“This is John Chapman, from the Laguna Police. We got word from your neighbor that there was a robbery early this morning, so we’re just calling to follow-up with you.”

“Oh my gosh—I’m not there, I’m in Mexico doing research—but what happened?”

“Well, it seems someone broke in through your window. The whole place has been ransacked. Miss, you may want to come back soon to see if anything is missing.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Was anyone hurt? Have you been able to get a hold of Cayden? He’s the other tenant.” Cayden was home with his family for the Thanksgiving holiday, but that didn’t stop Amara from feeling a jolt of anxiety for his safety.

“No, it appears no one was home at the time of the robbery. We did try to reach Mr. Boyd, though we have not successfully connected with him yet. But you will need to file a report as soon as possible.”

“Sure, whatever needs to be done.” Amara started packing up her notes, trying to remember if she had bought a flexible plane ticket home. She stopped for a moment, panicked that her hard drive with all her research and backed up vlog posts might have been stolen. “Does anything obvious seem to be missing? You know, TV, computer, anything along those lines?”

There was a short pause on the other line. Amara held her breath and anticipated the worst.

“It looks like they drank all of your…juice?”

CHAPTER 8 - Around 900 A.D.

“I was thirteen when King Jasaw took over my city, Tikal,” Ichik said. He had a candle, and now he, Mahaway, and Yochi sat in a circle, watching each other through flickering light.

“We were his first city, after he overthrew his own city and became king. At first, things were fine. He brought food and supplies with him, so we were happy. Earlier that year there had been a drought, and we weren’t sure there would be enough resources to sustain us through the dry season.”

Mahaway nodded. “Yes. The same thing is happening here now.”

“Well then you know what happens when people start getting desperate for food and water.”

Yochi snorted.

“What?” Ichik said.

“Only when they let the desperation get to them. That’s why we have rules, and systems—”

“That’s not always enough.” Ichik glared at Yochi. “What happens when you run out? How can you ration nothing?”

“Ok, ok, arguing is not going to help,” Mahaway said. She gestured to Ichik. “Please, go on.”

“My father sensed that something bad was going to happen. He was an architect, so he had studied and designed many of the pyramids and monuments. According to him, all the old buildings had secret rooms, like the one we’re in now.”

Mahaway gently patted Ichik’s arm. “You said, ‘he was’? What happened?”

Tears glistened in Ichik’s eyes. “Yes, he was killed. Shortly before my 15th year, a few months after he started teaching me his secrets. He was forced to fight, but he died in his first battle, and once he was dead, they drafted me into King Jasaw’s stupid army.”

Ichik spit. “I hated it—being torn away from my mother, my brother. For the first year I tried really hard. I followed all my orders blindly, I didn’t even flinch when I killed someone. My hope was that they would notice I was doing a good job, and let me go home. But we kept marching, farther and farther from home, and I started to give up hope. I just did what I had to, to survive. And then I couldn’t take it any more. I’ve been marching for two years now, and when we got to Ox Te- Tuun, when I saw another city about to fall into ruin at our hands, I snapped and ran away.”

Mahaway was quiet for a moment. “I’m so sorry Ichik—but how did you end up here?”

Ichik wiped his face, and looked down at the ground. “Like I said earlier, my father was an architect. He taught me some things, such as how every building has these secret rooms. Based on what he told me, it wasn’t hard to find this one. He said some of these rooms are where the royal families hid the work their best scribes and astronomers did.”

“What are you talking about?” Mahaway said, remembering how some of her fellow scribes had been called away earlier that day.

“According to my father, every royal family had a group of trusted scribes and astronomers who tracked the seasons and cycles for them in calendars,” Ichik said. “By having the knowledge of time, they could claim to control the cosmos and maintain their power.”

“Does Jasaw know about this place?” Yochi suddenly looked worried. “If he does, we are not safe here.”

“Probably not yet,” Ichik said. “There’s been…evidence in other cities that he knows about the secret rooms with the hidden calendars. But since he was not born into power, he has had to find these rooms on his own. Jasaw has ended up wrecking each city he conquers, and I think it’s because of his search for these rooms and what they may contain. Something having to do with calendars. It’s hard to find these rooms individually, unless you destroy everything. But what he doesn’t know is a hidden tunnel links all of the secret rooms in each city. He usually spends a few months in each city, before eventually destroying them and moving on. My guess is he takes the time initially to find the calendars, but then he gets frustrated.”

Mahaway’s eyes grew wide. “Yesterday we overheard Kish talking about getting close to something. Do you think this is it, this room?”

“If that’s true, we need to get out of here right now.” Yochi stood up and tried to grab Mahaway’s hand.

“Relax,” Ichik said. “This room is particularly far from the city center, and Jasaw got here only a few weeks ago. He probably doesn’t know about this place yet. Besides, for now it’s the safest place for me—almost no one can find me here.”

“I don’t like how any of this sounds,” Yochi said. “I’m getting out of here. Come on Mahaway, we need to finish our stela.”

Mahaway ignored him. “Ichik, what do you know of the calendars Jasaw seeks?”

“Not too much,” Ichik said. “Just that they track the stars and seasons. But I never learned how to read, so once my father was killed, I couldn’t learn any more about them.”

Yochi started rubbing his arms. “Why would a king need that? He’s already successfully conquered a bunch of cities, and his power is growing.”

“It would seem so, but my father suspected Jasaw was actually losing power. Wherever he goes, he consumes too many resources. Too many people are going hungry, and they will eventually revolt. But, the calendars may give him the answer to keeping all of his power, forever. Then he can just keep conquering and forcing people to work for him.”

“Well then,” Mahaway said, standing up. “We have to find Ox Te- Tuun’s calendar first.”


Late that afternoon, Yochi finally got Mahaway back to the stela. They had promised to meet Ichik again the next day and bring him food, but Yochi was worried Nacon might check their progress. He didn’t want to take any risks.

“Where do you think the calendar could be, Yochi?” Mahaway tried to work as quickly as possible. Now that there was a plan she felt better about creating a stela.

“I have no idea, Mahaway.” Yochi chipped away at the rock. “I don’t think we should get involved—what can we do anyway? We have no power, no resources. What would we even do with the calendar once we found it?”

“We’ll worry about that later.” Mahaway winked. “One step at a time. Besides, if we have the calendar, we can use that as leverage so Jasaw doesn’t destroy our city, our home.”

Yochi sighed in surrender. “I guess, if we have to.”

“Yochi, come here!” Mahaway shouted. She waved him over, excited. On her side of the rock, underneath several layers of dirt she had uncovered, were some words. She could only see a few letters, so she took a stick and started scraping off more dirt.

“What is it?” Yochi continued to work.

“I don’t know yet. Come help me.” Mahaway kept scraping until Yochi came over. She handed him her stick. “Here, you scrape and I’ll read.”

They kept at it for a few minutes. “Ok, I think I can read it now,” Mahaway said, shooing Yochi away. She stepped back, and then leaned forward again, squinting. “It says something about a hidden cavern?”

“Let me see,” Yochi said. He had better eyesight than Mahaway. “The directions to the calendar are in a hidden cavern.”

Mahaway grabbed Yochi’s hands and started jumping up and down. “I bet it’s where Ichik is! Remember, there was some writing on the walls? I didn’t get a chance yet to look at it closely, but that must be what this refers to. I mean, what else could it be?”

“You may be right,” Yochi said. “But if this is true, then we need to be extra careful. Help me cover this up. We need to carve this stela so Jasaw and his men never know about this clue.”

They worked together until it was too dark to see. Most of the writing had been carved out and replaced with images of Jasaw as a great warrior, but Yochi was still worried. “It’s too dark to tell if we got it all,” he complained.

“It will be fine,” Mahaway said. She wasn’t sure herself, but she didn’t want Yochi to worry. “Besides, we’ll be here first thing tomorrow to finish, so we can check then.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Yochi continued to stare at the spot where the writing had been.

“Come on,” Mahaway said, ushering him away. “Let’s get back before anyone notices we’re missing.”

CHAPTER 9 - November 2012

“Professor Brown!” Amara barged into his office early Monday morning.
She had called Cayden on Saturday to let him know someone had broken in, assuring him nothing was taken and she was fine. Amara then spent the weekend cleaning up her apartment and inspecting it for clues. To her befuddlement, nothing was missing. Oddly, the burglar appeared to have drunk all the juice in her fridge and left the carton strewn on the ground. But the police had found no fingerprints, so there were no leads. When Cayden had returned Sunday night, they had discussed possible theories, but hadn’t landed on anything promising. Amara was worried, so she had decided to get the Professor’s opinion.
“Professor Brown?” Amara froze, halfway to his desk. The professor sat there, head in his hands, pulling at his hair as he muttered angrily. He looked up, eyes full of rage.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.” Amara started to back out of his office. “I can come back later.”
The professor blinked and shook his head. He broke out into a smile. “Amara, no, come back in. Excuse me I…just heard some bad news.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Amara took a small step back inside. “Anything I can do to help?”
“No, no.” He gestured for Amara to sit. “Nothing to worry about. Please, take a seat. How may I help you?”
Amara took a deep breath, and then it all came out. “IwenttoMexicooverthebreakandthensomeonebrokeinandIdon’tknowwhattodo—”
“Amara, slow down.” Professor Brown held up his hand. “I can barely understand a word you’re saying.”
Amara exhaled, nodding.
Professor Brown leaned back in his chair. “Now, what’s this about Mexico?”
Amara told the professor everything she had learned in Mexico, how she’d gone to the bookshop, how her grandfather had been a Maya scholar, how she’d found a drawing of an arrowhead and she thought it might be a key to something. She left out the fact that she actually had the arrowhead the drawing was based on; she wasn’t ready to let him know until she figured out what to do with it.
The professor listened intently, occasionally nodding or jotting a note down. Amara started to elaborate more on the burglary, but Professor Brown stopped her again.
“Let’s just focus on one thing at a time,” he said. “Now, tell me more about this arrowhead. What exactly did it look like?”
“I don’t know, kind of like any other arrowhead. But my apartment—”
Professor Brown slammed his hand on the desk. “Think! Anything specific?”
Amara shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I can’t remember. As soon as I learned about it I got the phone call about my apartment.” She watched as the professor got up to open the mini refrigerator in the corner of his office and pull out a jug of juice. He took a swig and seemed to relax.
“I’m sorry, Amara. I have hypoglycemia, and sometimes I can’t think straight without my juice.”
Amara stood up. “Actually, I’d better go. I just remembered I told the cops I’d give them a report of anything I found missing.”
Professor Brown stood up too. “Well, did you?”
“Um, you know, I can’t remember. It’s all written down at home. Thanks Professor!” Amara took off, her heart racing. She had a new theory about the burglary.

CHAPTER 10 - Around 900 A.D.

“Come on, come on!” Mahaway hurried along down the path towards the secret room. She had woken up at sunrise, impatient to check on Ichik and study the writing on the walls of the secret room.
“Slow down, we don’t want anyone to get suspicious.” Yochi trailed along behind her, looking over his shoulder every few steps to make sure they weren’t being followed.
They made it to the tunnel, and Mahaway called down to Ichik so as not to startle him. “We’re here. We have food!”
Ichik emerged from a corner of the room, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “I thought we were meeting later?”
“Something happened.” Mahaway tossed a chunk of bread to Ichik, not waiting to see if he caught it. She lit the candle from the day before, and carried it to the side of the room with writing on the wall.
“What’s going on?” Ichik said.
“Shh,” Mahaway said. “I just need a minute…”
Yochi shrugged apologetically. “We found what we think is a clue, last night. Some writing on the stela we were working on hinted about the calendar you spoke of last night. It mentioned writing on the walls in a hidden cavern that could point to it.”
Ichik inhaled sharply. “If that’s correct, then we could actually find the calendar ourselves, and we may be able to stop Jasaw. Today.”
Yochi went silent and pale.
“What’s wrong?” Ichik asked, after a few moments.
“Just…I didn’t think it would happen so soon…”
“Gah! Can’t you two be quiet for a minute? I’m trying to concentrate.” Mahaway stood in front of the writing, frowning. The candle flickered dangerously as she sighed in frustration.
Yochi joined her. “Let me try.” He took the candle and studied the writing for a minute. “I see something about tunnels…”
“That sounds promising,” Ichik said.
“Whoever wrote this was in a hurry though.” Yochi pointed to one of the last words. “See this? It’s not finished.”
Mahaway took the candle away from Yochi and walked slowly along the wall, trying to see anything they might have missed.
“Mahaway,” Yochi said with a groan. “Can’t you ever focus on one thing at a time?”
“Oh Yochi, it’s fine,” Mahaway said. “Besides, I might find something that can help us figure out the rest of the writing. Ichik, what do you think?”
Ichik rubbed his chin, thinking. “Actually, I remember my father telling me about some sort of cycle. But he said it just in passing once, so I don’t remember what he said exactly.” He frowned. “What was it…?”
“Let’s just take a minute and recall what we know for sure,” Yochi said. “Here, let me.” He took the candle away from Mahaway, and placed it in the center of the room. Then he grabbed a stick to scratch notes on the dirt floor.
“All right. We know there are secret rooms connected by tunnels underneath all the buildings. We also know there is a powerful calendar hidden in one of those rooms. Correct?”
Mahaway and Ichik nodded.
“Good. Now, the writings on the stela point to this room, and the writing in this room references a tunnel. I think this means we can find the calendar via the tunnel.”
“Makes sense,” Mahaway said.
“There is also some cycle going on, but we can get to that later.” Yochi continued drawing in the dirt. “Now, we need to figure out where the calendar is. Which means we need to figure out first where the tunnel is. Ichik, what did your father say about the tunnels again?”
Ichik nodded. “Every room has a door that blends in with the ground. We can probably feel our way around for it. But be careful, because it’s likely a far drop from the door to the bottom of the tunnel.”
“Well what are we waiting for? Let’s start searching.” Mahaway got on her hands and knees and started crawling around the room, feeling for holes.
“Mahaway, stop.” Yochi blocked her way. “We have to finish that stela by the end of today. Nacon will be coming to look at it, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
Mahaway rolled her eyes. “Fine. Ichik, can you start looking? We’ll be back tonight to help.”
“Of course,” Ichik said. He started munching on his bread. “Right after breakfast.”


Mahaway and Yochi rushed to finish the stela. They had agreed to meet Ichik a couple hours before sunset, so they’d have time to explore the tunnel and get back home before the soldiers checked. After a few hours, they were almost done.
“Finally,” Mahaway said, wiping her forehead. “Nearly finished.”
“You call this finished?” Nacon walked up to them. He slowly circled the stela, inspecting it. “It’s terrible.”
“What do you mean, terrible?” Mahaway flushed, angry. “It’s exactly what you ordered, and done on time.”
“Mahaway,” Yochi said, warning her.
“It’s sloppy.” He pointed to the image of the king’s face. “Parts are chipped, including the king’s face. King Jasaw will not be pleased.” He smirked. “And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“I suppose not,” Mahaway said, through clenched teeth. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot, wishing she were back in the secret room.
“Well then,” Nacon said, stepping in front of Mahaway and flashing her a smile. “You’d better keep working.”
“And how are we supposed to finish by tonight? This job will take at least another day!” As soon as she spoke, Mahaway regretted it. Nacon towered over her, and she suddenly felt helpless, as if he could snap her in half and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Then she saw the lust in his eyes and she shivered. There were some things worse than death.
Yochi stepped in between them. “Give us one more day. We promise the king will be pleased.”
Nacon whipped his head around and sneered at Yochi. “Fine. One day. And it better be perfect—or else.”
Yochi met Nacon’s eyes, not looking away until Nacon started heading back towards the palace. Mahaway stared at the stela until Nacon was out of earshot.
“Are you all right?” Yochi put his arm around her.
“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. Let’s just get to work. We only have a little time left before we’re supposed to meet Ichik.”
They worked in silence until it was time to leave, Yochi glancing over at Mahaway in concern every few minutes. Mahaway didn’t speak or look up. She focused all her energy into fixing the stela.
An hour before sunset, Mahaway waved a limp hand at Yochi. “Time to go.”


They were greeted by an energetic Ichik. “I found it!” he said, not noticing Mahaway’s downcast demeanor. “It took me all day, but I found it.”

CHAPTER 11 - November 2012

Amara came home and slammed the door shut behind her. She started pacing the living room. Cayden came out of his room to see what was going on.

“Amara, what’s wrong? You look terrible.”

“Thanks Cayden,” Amara yelled. “That’s just what I need—someone to tell me how terrible I look.”

“No, not like that.” Cayden put his arm around Amara and gently helped her sit down. “You always look beautiful, just now you look freaked out.”

Amara blushed and pretended to ignore the compliment. “I think Professor Brown broke into our apartment over break.”

Cayden burst out laughing. “Because college students always have the best stuff, right? Come on Amara, what’s going on?”

Amara jumped up, indignant. “I’m telling you. I was just at his office, and at first he seemed really angry about something. I didn’t think much of it, but then he said it was because he was hypoglycemic and he needed his juice.”

Cayden stopped laughing. “So you think that means he’s the one who drank all our juice? But why would he break into in our apartment?”

Amara took a deep breath. “Wait here.” She ran to her room and retrieved the threatening note with the Maya glyphs.

She thrust the paper at Cayden. “We got this threat a while back. It mentions you, so I didn’t want to freak you out until I knew more. I took it to Professor Brown to see what he thought, but that’s when I noticed the juice thing. I think he might know more than he says.”

Cayden threw his arms up in the air. “Why the hell would you wait to tell me this? Amara—this isn’t a game. You should have showed me this right away.”

“I know, I know.” Amara sat back down next to Cayden. “And I’m sorry, but now I’m freaked out and please just forgive me and help?”

“Fine, Amara.” Cayden’s tone was sharp. His nostrils flared. “But you better tell me everything first.”

Amara tried not to notice how attractive Cayden looked when he was angry. So assertive, and protective. She filled him in on everything, including how she already had the arrowhead. She brought it out for Cayden to examine.

He lay it flat on his palm and bent down to look. It had a curious shape to it. The tip was sharp and pointy but the sides weren’t rounded. They were square, also with sharp edges. Cayden took his time, looking for any other odd details.

Amara paced the room, impatient. Her phone rang. The number was Ace’s. Amara tried not to groan—the last thing she needed was to deal with Ace. “Shoot, Cay, I’ve got to get this, you mind?”

“Uh huh.” Cayden waved her off.

“Great. Hello?”

“Amara, you were supposed to send me your latest notes and updates on your story hours ago. Where are they?”

“I know, I know. I just got caught up in something…”

“Look, I don’t care what’s going on in your personal life. You have a commitment. Tell me you have more sources for your story.”

“Yes, yes.” Amara exhaled, annoyed. “I found some of my grandfather’s notes, and I can probably interview the owner of the bookstore I went to in Mexico.”

“Fine, send me something before news meeting.” He hung up.

“I can’t believe him!” Amara took the note from next to Cayden and stomped into her room. Cayden didn’t notice, still too fascinated with the arrowhead.

Amara opened up her laptop and logged in to her vlog. To her relief, there were no pop-up messages or suspicious comments. But, the number of followers to her vlog had increased, and there were more comments than usual.

Amara hit record and held up the note. “Here’s an update on my feature story. A threat, from some secret group that’s been stalking me, left in front of my apartment the other day. I haven’t been able to decipher the whole thing yet, but basically they’re threatening to harm my best friend. So if you’re out there, watching this, just know, I’m taking Krav Magra.”

Finished, Amara hit post. Then she sent a text to Ace. See my vlog for latest updates. Also, have to push back the story.

She ignored her phone when Ace called a second later, and left it in her room when she joined Cayden, who had now moved on from the arrowhead and was researching online.

“What are you doing?” Amara sat next to him on the couch.

“Just trying to figure out how much I can translate of your note from online resources.” He continued typing.

“Oh, ok.” Amara took the note out and started staring at it, looking for more clues. On a whim, she decided to go to the window and hold it up to the light, the way cashiers held up bills when they looked for watermarks. Squinting, she noticed a thin outline in the middle of the note.

“Cayden, come here!” She waved him over. “Look at this.”

Cayden sighed. “Can’t it wait a minute? I think I’ve almost found a site that can translate glyphs.”

“I found a clue on the note. It’s a drawing, or shape of something. I need help figuring out what it is.” Amara continued to study the note. The shape looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite make it out.

“Oh, all right.” Cayden joined her by the window. “Let me see.”

He took the note. His eyes widened with recognition. “It’s the arrowhead!” He retrieved the arrowhead and held both it and the note in the air. “See? Whoever this creepy group is, they know about your arrowhead.”

CHAPTER 12 - Around 900 A.D.

“I found the tunnel right away, so I decided to start exploring while I waited for you two.” Ichik, in his excitement, talked loudly as he led Mahaway and Yochi through the underground maze.

Mahaway said nothing as she followed. Yochi spoke for both of them. “That’s great Ichik. But maybe we should be more quiet? We don’t know who else may be down here.”

Ichik snorted. “I was just here and there was nobody. We’ll be fine. Besides,” he said, holding out his stone hammer head, “worst case scenario, we use this.”

The three of them walked down a windy path. It was dark, but their eyes slowly adjusted. Mahaway was in a daze, going through the motions of following her friends. Ichik, excited, chattered on about everything he had found that day. Feeling the need to be cautious, Yochi strained his eyes to see any movements ahead of them, tuning out Ichik as much as possible to listen for strange sounds.

After a while Yochi realized Ichik was no longer talking. They were walking up a steep path, and all three of them were breathing heavily. The tunnel had narrowed so they had to walk single file, taking small steps so as not to trip over any stray rocks or ruts.

“This is it.” Ichik stopped in front of a large, flat wall.

“I don’t see anything.” Yochi knocked on the wall, but only heard solid thuds.

“It’s actually above us.” Ichik pushed on the ceiling of the tunnel, moving a small square of rock. Bits of dust and dirt fluttered down, causing him to cough. “All of the secret doors are hidden in the floor—probably so you can drop down and start running, if you need to.”

“What’s up there?” Yochi said. He didn’t want to walk into any traps.

“No idea,” Ichik said. “I wanted to wait until you two showed up to actually enter any rooms.”

Yochi watched as Ichik pulled himself up into the room. The ceiling wasn’t high, only slightly higher than their heads. Two footholds were carved just below the door. Yochi followed Ichik, and then helped pull Mahaway into the room.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Mahaway said. The room was bright, and it made her eyes water. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust her eyesight while Ichik covered up the entrance to their tunnel.

“So we can keep it secret,” Ichik said, with a grin.

The three friends cautiously examined their surroundings. They were in a small, unfurnished room full of maize and other food supplies.

“What is this?” Mahaway said, frowning. “There are people in the city fighting for food, yet there is plenty here.”

“It’s probably the king’s reserves for his army,” Ichik said. He pointed to the only doorway out of the room. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Hesitant, Mahaway led the way through the door, to a larger room that was almost as sparse, save for a chair carved from stone in the middle and some murals portraying the stories of the gods on the wall. Leaning against one of the walls was a large round stone, painted in red and blue.

Yochi inhaled sharply. “We are in the throne room of the palace. We need to get out of here. Now.”

Mahaway nodded in agreement, grabbing Yochi and Ichik’s hands as she started to head back to the smaller adjoining room.

“Wait.” Ichik broke away and ran to the stone. “It’s the Calendar, I know it. My father said the most important works were painted in red and blue. Jasaw must have found it. We have to destroy it.”

He raised his hammer over his head and hacked at the stone. It broke into several large chunks. “Help me.” Ichik kept hitting the rock, while Yochi and Mahaway picked up the pieces and hurled them to the floor, breaking them into smaller, unreadable lumps.

“What the hell are you doing?” King Jasaw had entered the throne room.

Mahaway froze, trying to think of a way they could all escape. The tunnel was shut, and she didn’t want the King to find out about it anyway. She dropped a piece of the Calendar and walked over to Yochi and Ichik, holding them tightly.

Ichik broke away, stood up straight, and saluted. “King Jasaw.”

Three armed men came in and joined the king. Mahaway recognized Kish, Jasaw’s advisor, and Nacon. Jasaw snarled. “Do you know what you have done? You have just destroyed a powerful, important artifact that belongs to me. One I had been searching for, for a long time and had just recovered today. That is treason.”

Yochi threw himself on the ground and begged. “Please, King Jasaw, have mercy.”

Jasaw took note of Yochi’s astronomer robes and Mahaway’s netted hat, indicating she was a scribe. He grinned wickedly. “I will grant you mercy—this time. But you must replace what you have destroyed.”

He snapped his fingers, and his guards came forward to seize Mahaway, Yochi, and Ichik.

Nacon winked at Mahaway. “You’re mine,” he said. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her out of the throne room, up more steps to the top of the palace. The roof there was flat, and from it Mahaway could see the whole city—even the hill where she and Yochi had stood the day they heard the war horns. Nacon shoved her to the ground, and Yochi and Ichik fell down next to her.

“Are you all right?” Mahaway whispered. Both Yochi and Ichik nodded. They waited for what felt like hours on top of the roof, shivering and trying not to notice the menacing looks the guards who were watching them gave.

“Let me explain what I want.” King Jasaw said, when he finally arrived. He towered over them, his hands behind his back. “I need you three to build me a new Long Count Calendar, one that explains the stars and the seasons. I want you to tell me the next time Venus will appear in the sky, so I will know when the gods will bless me with success in battle. Understood?”

Neither Mahaway, Yochi, nor Ichik said anything.

“Good. You have one week. From what my advisor could divine from the pieces of my broken Calendar, Venus will not appear for at least another week.” Jasaw turned around to head back to the throne room. “I’ll be inspecting your progress daily. Do not fail me.”

CHAPTER 13 - November 2012

Amara’s cell phone buzzed. At first she thought it was her alarm, so she rolled over in bed and tried to hit the snooze button. But the phone kept persisting. Groggy, Amara sat up and looked at the screen. The number was from Mexico.

She coughed a couple times to clear her throat and answered. “Hello?”

“Amara, so sorry. I forgot how early it is where you are. Two hours can make a big difference in the morning.”

The voice sounded familiar, but Amara wasn’t awake enough yet to place it. “Sorry, who is this?”

“Jorge. From Puerto Morelos?”

“Oh yes. Hi, sorry.” Amara had forgotten she had given Jorge her phone number, in case he found anything new. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “What’s up?”

“I found something that might be of interest to you. It’s a map, and I think it leads to the site your grandfather visited in Calakmul. You might want to come down again and look at it.”

Amara was suddenly wide-awake. Her fingertips tingled with excitement. “A map? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”


“You can’t go. Finals are next week.” As Amara packed, Cayden took out her clothes.

“I have to. Please, just let me finish packing!” Amara threw her clothes back into her suitcase.

“But it’s probably really dangerous. Your grandfather died after he went to that site, remember? Remember how you told me you didn’t think he committed suicide? What if that crazy group that’s stalking you killed him? What if they kill you?”

“Relax.” Amara brushed some hair from her eyes. “I have to go. I need to find out more about my grandpa.” She smiled. “I’ll be fine. I know self-defense now, mostly.”

Cayden slammed the suitcase shut. “I won’t let you go.” He took a deep breath. “At least, not alone.”

Amara stopped picking up clothes and looked at Cayden. She realized again how attractive he was, with his smiling brown eyes, scruffy facial hair, and dark, messy locks. Blushing, she covered her face with her pile of clothes. “You’d go with me?”

Cayden shrugged. “I can’t talk you out of going, and I’m not letting you go alone.”

Amara’s heart fluttered for a moment, but she tried to push it aside. She felt awkward, unsure of her feelings. Cayden had never been more than a friend.

“Besides,” he said. “It’s just dead week, so it’s not like I have a lot going on anyway.”

“All right, fine.” She dumped more clothes into her suitcase. “But you better be ready soon. I want to leave in ten minutes.”

While waiting for Cayden, Amara decided to update her vlog. She posted a quick video, telling her followers she had a new, important lead and she would update with more details later.

When she was done, Cayden was standing in her doorway. “Let’s go,” he said.


They had used most of the rent money they had set aside for December to buy plane tickets, but Amara was too focused on her story to worry about it. She could figure out how to pay the rent later.

When they landed in Mexico, they headed straight for Alma Libre in Puerto Morelos. Amara had called ahead, so Jorge was expecting them.

“So glad you made it.” Jorge smiled in greeting. “Come, come, I have much to show you.”

Inside the bookstore, Jorge had laid out a couple maps and several rubbings of glyphs. He pointed to them, beaming.

Amara walked over to where he stood. “These are great, Jorge. Thank you.” She leaned over and studied them. “What exactly are we looking at?”

“The map is of Calakmul, and the Maya ruins around there. I think you may be able to use it once you read the glyphs.”

Cayden cleared his throat. “Let me take a look.” He studied the glyphs, trying to recall everything he had gleaned from the Internet. “It looks like it’s a story about…900 A.D.? That’s all I’ve got for now.”

“Allow me to explain.” Jorge gestured towards the rubbings. “These are from the ruins. Your grandfather made these rubbings.” He nodded at Amara. “I dug them up after you left. It’s a rare find, really, I don’t think many other people know about it, and it tells the story of three friends: two men and one woman. Their city had been taken over by King Jasaw, a well-known warrior from the end of the classic Maya period who conquered many cities and became one of the most notorious leaders. If the stories are true, he was a brutal man, who robbed the people he conquered of all their resources in order to pursue his campaign, until eventually most of them starved to death. He may be one reason the classic Maya civilization started to crumble—he was one of the first to start sacrificing humans to the gods.”

“That’s crazy,” Amara said, suppressing a shudder. “Why would someone do that?”

Jorge shrugged. “No one knows for sure, but many scholars believe Jasaw thought he needed to sacrifice people in order to keep the peace. He actually thought the gods would protect him and his kingdom in exchange for blood.”

“So what happened to the three friends?” Cayden asked.

Jorge pointed to the glyphs as he spoke. “Well, it seems they had a plan to overthrow Jasaw. But there are not too many details here. I suspect there is more to this story, but it is hidden somewhere in the ruins of Calakmul.”

“It’s an interesting story, I’m sure, but what does that have to do with the 2012 predictions?” Amara said. According to her research, Calakmul was a seven-hour drive away, and she was skeptical.

“Well, there’s something about a calendar, though I can’t make out the details. But, look right here.” Jorge tapped a rubbing.

Cayden and Amara studied it for a minute. Not used to reading glyphs, Amara looked away first, unable to see anything useful.

Cayden inhaled sharply. “The arrowhead.” He turned to Amara. “Your arrowhead. I think they may have had it.”

“What?” Amara took the arrowhead out of her backpack. “You mean, this thing could be over a thousand years old?”

Jorge nodded enthusiastically. “May I?” Amara nodded, and Jorge gingerly took the arrowhead. “Yes, it could very well be the same arrowhead. Other than in the drawing from your grandfather’s journal, I have never seen another arrowhead with that shape.”

Amara’s heart started beating faster. Suddenly her story felt much bigger, and she was glad she could be a part of it. “That settles it then.” She turned to Cayden. “We’re renting a car and going to Calakmul.”

Read more

To read a couple bonus chapters, and to learn how to read the final, revised version, please visit http://the2012ebook.com.

Thanks for reading!

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Texte: Sabrina Ricci
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 03.11.2012

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