The Veil of Glass
The rising sun cast ruby hues over the vast jungle of the Yucatán Peninsula. The year was 1518—a moment of tense, mesmerizing beauty before the storm of change that would sweep swiftly across the region. Ixchel, a fourteen-year-old Mayan girl with skin kissed a warm brown by the sun, knelt in the soft loam near her village's sacred cenote. Her long ebony hair was braided and bound with threads of jade-green cloth, her lithe frame barely covered by a tunic of woven cotton, dyed with intricate red and white patterns specific to her clan, the Sky Serpents.
Beside her rested a small clay bowl filled with a peculiar shimmering liquid. She didn't blink as she poured it into a hollow Pyrex-glass artifact—a rare acquisition stolen from the strange travelers who had arrived uninvited to the coasts weeks earlier. It was a "star stone," they claimed, though Ixchel thought of it as a gift stolen from the gods themselves, its translucence unnatural even compared to the clearest waters.
"Ixchel," whispered her best friend, Ek-Chuah, a boy of sixteen who crouched nearby, his wiry frame tense. His face, adorned with streaks of ceremonial blue paint, bore a mixture of awe and apprehension as he watched her. "The elders will punish you for taking the star stone. They will say it is cursed! You can barely touch it without your hands trembling."
"Then they will punish me," Ixchel replied in a firm yet soft tone, her golden-brown eyes sparking with a mix of defiance and curiosity. Her gaze fixed on the bowl. "Curse or not, this liquid—this 'invisibility juice' the strangers spoke of—is no ordinary oil. The gods have sent me a vision of this day. This... might change everything."
A Glimpse of Truth
Ixchel had watched the Spaniards bring metal weapons and shimmering trinkets to trade with her people. But her interest became an obsession when she overheard a frightened sailor whispering about how "invisibility juice" could render one unseen—an unholy concoction they'd abandoned during a hurried escape from their camp. That night, she'd crept into the foreigners' tent and stolen the flask, nearly detected when her own breath fogged a piece of smooth glass catching the moonlight.
Weeks of whispered experiments had brought her here. The vegetative oil mixed with local sap yielded something astonishing. Ixchel had poured the invisibility juice over her hand only to watch it "melt" into the green foliage when she moved. It was no mere trick. Today, she would test its strength on something larger—something the gods, she hoped, approved of.
"If this 'juice' works, we can use it to hide our ways from the Scaled Ones," Ixchel said, referring to the Spaniards who encroached ever closer. "To hide not just who we are, but preserve the Sky Serpent's lands and knowledge." She poured the shimmering oil delicately into the hollowed-out glass, whispering a soft chant under her breath.
The World Shifts
The effect was immediate. The ritual knife they placed inside the small glass container—its blade adorned with jade inlay—vanished. Ek-Chuah's sharp gasp of disbelief filled the heavy air. The knife was still there—its firm, cold surface visible only when she lifted it slightly by the hilt and felt its weight—but to their eyes, it had utterly disappeared within the cloak of the oil and glass's strange harmony.
"It's... hidden," Ek-Chuah murmured breathlessly. "Ixchel, the gods truly walk with you."
A grin broke across Ixchel's face, though a spark of fear lingered. "Yes, Ek-Chuah. But for how long?"
Chaos Rising
As the pair began preparing to show their discovery to an elder sympathetic to rebellion, drums echoed on the path leading out of the jungle. Spanish metal glinted and clinked in uneven rhythm as conquistadors emerged through the greenery, led by a priest dressed in dark robes holding a cross aloft. Their faces, grim and unyielding, betrayed little regard for the sacred ground they walked upon.
Ixchel and Ek-Chuah scrambled to hide the Pyrex glass and knife beneath reeds, though Ixchel's heart pounded harder than the native drums. She gripped Ek-Chuah's arm, her quiet command forcing him to stand tall. "Do not show fear. Come—speak with them as we were taught."
The leader of the Spaniards, Captain de Guzmán, stepped forward, his face weathered from years at sea but his gaze sharp as blades. His glare fell on the boy. "Where is the star stone? We know it was stolen from our camp. Return it, and you may live."
The boy faltered but managed, "It's only myths. No stones are here."
Irritated, the captain reached into his satchel and pulled forth another smaller piece of star-stone glass. He glared intently at the villagers. In that moment, Ixchel understood: The Pyrex glass was part of something bigger—knowledge the invaders did not yet fully understand themselves. And now, her discovery handed her people both a chance and a curse. The trick would not remain secret forever.
The Choice
In a split second, she made her decision.
Ixchel knelt—a sign of submission. At her feet rested the hidden, invisibility-coated blade. She leaned marginally closer to Ek-Chuah, whispering only, "Run while they listen."
Ixchel lifted the Pyrex bowl in offering as Ek-Chuah dashed back into the thickets, becoming no more visible in the dense green foliage than the knife in its invisible sheath. She forced herself to stay composed. The Spaniards would take this offering and demand she explain its secrets. She, in turn, now had a single task remaining: to ensure this "gift" was delivered drenched in lies designed to misdirect.
The gods would deal with what followed, one way or another.
Genre: Historical Fiction with Fantasy Elements
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: The Invisible Glass Cleaner
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