The answer lies here somewhere, I’m sure of it.
I lift my chin and study the statue at the top. This one is of Luna, looking off into the distance, as if watching over her faithful subjects. There are stars in her flowing hair, and her robes are decorated with the different phases of the moon. My gaze lowers and a potent whisper nudges me closer. A feeling, a rush of discovery that suddenly raises the hair on my arms.
There are cracks embedded in the stone that look as if they’re part of the design. My feet can definitely fit into these cracks, as if they’re not only meant to complement the design but to serve a purpose, too—a kind of beautiful, ornate ladder.
I reach for the stem of a flower that’s curling out from the stone and place one booted foot between the cracks. I lift myself up, finding another flower stem to hold on to. This happens again and again until I’m all the way up to the top of the pillar.
The effort takes a toll.
I’m panting, nearly gasping for breath. I have to sit down again, my legs dangling off the side of the pillar like fallen banners.
“Condesa,” Manuel asks from below. “Are you all right?”
“I only want to sleep,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “I could drop to the ground and not get up for years, I think.”
“Damn those butterflies. We have to find a way out—”
“How much time do we have left?”
“No sé,” he says grimly. “I’ve never encountered Consuelo before.”
My fingers cling to the edge of the pillar until my knuckles turn white. No food, perhaps not enough air, and we’re both slowly dying from poisonous butterflies. The odds aren’t in our favor.
And I’m too tired to panic.
I stand on wobbly knees, holding on to Luna’s cool surface. There’s enough room for me to walk around the statue, its height reaching my shoulders. I study the intricate detail, marveling at every fold of Luna’s clothing.
And then I see it.
The statue sits on a raised circular platform. When I place the slightest pressure on the statue, the whole thing rotates—but only if I go against the clock. Manuel comes to stand at the foot of the pillar, his face upturned, the length of his neck exposed.
“The statues move,” I call down.
He darts over to the pillar with the statue of the pregnant woman at the top. He climbs faster than I did, and in no time he stands at the top and spins the platform counterclockwise. He looks over at me. “What do you think?”
I bend closer to Luna, trying to find something—
“Look to see if she’s wearing a pendant!” I point to the necklace hanging around our goddess’s neck. “Mine has a round disc with two dashes on it.”
Manuel spins the statue and then exclaims, “This woman is wearing a crown and on one of the jewels, I can see a single dash. Condesa, I think this is meant to be a depiction of Pachamama. The earth goddess of the Llacsans.”
“Why is she pregnant?”
“Because the tribes believe she’s a symbol of motherhood and fertility. The earth gives life every season.”
I point to the last statue. “Mine is certainly Luna, and if you’re correct, then that pillar has to be their sun god, Inti.”
Manuel quickly climbs down and then dashes over to the pillar. Once again he makes quick work of the climb, even though he’s breathing heavily from the effort. When he reaches the top, he walks around the marble, studying every detail. “There’s an amulet on his wrist with three dashes!”
“All right,” I say, and I’m happy to feel a fluttering of excitement. “We’re definitely onto something. The dashes match the dials on the walls. I bet you have to turn the dials in the correct order, starting with the first dash, and then the door will open again. Why don’t you do one and two, and I’ll take care of three?”
I climb down, careful not to slip, and then run toward the corresponding dial with three dashes. “I’m ready!”
“I’m not,” Manuel says. “The wheel with one dash won’t turn.”
My shoulders slump. “I really thought that was it.”
“It was a good idea,” he concedes. “What are we missing? All of this has to relate somehow.”
