Dawn would never come to this place. Time was measured only by the slow drain of their batteries and the gnawing ache in their muscles. In the aftermath of the boar attack, a thick, oppressive silence descended once more, heavier than before, filled with the memory of violence.
Maya was the first to speak, her voice hollow. "I'm a photojournalist. I've been to war zones. I've seen terrible things. But I've never seen anything like that. The… the efficiency of it."
Chloe, ever the scientist, was already trying to frame it logically, though her voice trembled slightly. "A closed ecosystem creates extreme survival pressures. That was just… nature. Vicious, but natural."
"Natural?" Maya retorted, her voice rising. "Chloe, we are thousands of feet underground in a structure that shouldn't exist, watching animals that shouldn't be here devour each other. Nothing about this is natural!"
"She has a point," Ethan said, his gaze fixed on the endless stairs below. He kept seeing the jaguar's desperate leap, hearing its final scream. "The legends of Xibalba… the Mayan underworld… they weren't just stories of gods and monsters. They were often depicted as a place of tests, a gauntlet of horrors. Dark houses, houses of jaguars, houses of bats."
"So you think this is a literal hell?" Chloe asked, skepticism wrestling with the evidence before her.
"No," Ethan replied slowly, choosing his words with care. "I think this was a place of passage. A journey. And whatever civilization built it understood the dangers here—or perhaps, they cultivated them. Maybe these tests were designed to keep people out. Or to keep something in."
The implication hung in the cold air.
He looked at the sisters. The shared horror had forged a new intimacy between them. Chloe's analytical mind was a comfort, a shield against the encroaching madness of this place. Maya's raw, honest fear was grounding; it kept him from getting lost in academic speculation and reminded him of the immediate danger.
He noticed Maya shivering, not just from the cold. He unzipped his pack and pulled out a thermal blanket, draping it over her shoulders. "Try to get some rest. Both of you."
Chloe managed a weak smile. "You know, for a history geek obsessed with lost civilizations, you're surprisingly capable."
"In my field, you learn that history isn't just in books," Ethan said, a corner of his mouth turning up. "Sometimes you have to dig for it. And sometimes, it bites back."
His attempt at levity did little to pierce the gloom. As the sisters huddled together, trying to find warmth and sleep, Ethan kept watch. He couldn't shake the feeling Maya had voiced earlier—that they weren't just discovering something, but trespassing. He thought of the pristine condition of the stairs, the lack of any artifacts. It wasn't like a ruin. It was like a house whose owners had just stepped out. Or were perhaps still there, watching from the shadows. The darkness of the Cenote Sagrado no longer felt empty; it felt occupied.