“She isn’t going to marry you,” said Sebastian.

“You don’t know that,” said Carlos. “It’s been a long time coming and she knows it.”
The pair walked down a pristine white beach. They patrolled for pirates and landing parties, anyone coming shore. They were foot soldiers Esteban Cruz, a Viceroy on the Mexica coast.

The palm trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was growing dark.

“I’m just saying,” said Sebastian. “Prepare for disappointment.”

“Fuck you…”

Their boots crunched against debris. Carlos stopped. A wooden plank stuck in the mud. Carlos kneeled, finding a piece of rope. Sebastian grimaced, poking at more debris with his rifle. Their eyes met and the conclusion was simple. There had been a shipwreck.

Sebastian followed marks from the water towards the trees. A collection of footprints leading into the coastal jungle.

“Call it in,” said Sebastian. Lord Cruz and his guard would have quite a sporting time hunting down trespassers in their jungle.

Carlos wasn’t listening. He was looking out towards the sea. The waves lapped against the shore. The sky was darkening, a storm was coming in.

Both men froze.

A ripple in the distance grew into a shadow. A huge figure waded into the shallows and towards the shore. A titanic monster of terrible might. A prehistoric god from the depths, a curse on the coast of Mexica.

The men bolted, fleeing desperately back towards the fortress-city.

Whatever had caused the shipwreck was coming to raid the coast as well.


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