The day I died I'm pretty sure the greater world did not even notice. That kind of ambivalence was kind of expected. I wasn't actually anyone important. Sure I ran around, surviving disasters and causing them on a daily, or more realistically, yearly basis but the average person didn't actually know that.

Some upper crust academics might've heard of my father, after all, he was kind of famous for his hare-brained, borderline excessive, archeological theories. By extension, they might've heard of me, after all my survival and retrieval from the island of Yamatai was near legendary.

I had pundits and paparazzi after me for several months following that incident. I was the heir of a fairly large company, which had its talons in everything. This was typical for large companies, which dreaded being pulled under by a single mis-performing product. I just found that link irritating. After all, when the newspapers were constantly, for about half a year, unleashing articles comparing my ordeal on the island to the experiences of DC comics Batman or Green Arrow, it was beyond annoying.

Nevertheless, I digress greatly. This was the day I died, after all, and I really didn't have the time to lament my hand in life. It was a scarce small comfort that I would finally be avenging my father's death at the hands of Trinity. That was in itself bittersweet. I couldn't bring him back and something small gnawed at the back of my mind, urging me to try.

The Silver Box of Ix Chel, used in concert with its matching ritual artifact, the Key of Chak Chel, was supposed to be capable of remaking reality. Or more realistically bringing about the end of the world through awakening or harnessing the powers of the Mayan god, Kukulkan.

That in itself was the reason I feared I would die here today. Creation was on the line, Unuratu, the person who was supposed to sacrifice herself to arrest the ritual destruction was dead. There was no indication that her son could take her place, and that wasn't even an option I was inclined to consider since he was but a child. That really left one, solitary, option. I pushed it from my thoughts until I absolutely needed to face the ramifications.

I ignored the weight of the golden crown upon my brow, the mark of the Queen of the damned. Viridian feathers attached to a gold half-mask. The symbolism seemed important somehow. To confront, and stop the end of the world while wearing the mask of the sacrifice. It was like a cosmic battle, writ small. Man, or woman, in my case versus a god, hell-bent on devouring the world.

I slipped around a bush, laden with red berries, I spared a moment's glance at the berries. They contained both a potent pain-killer and seemed to possess coagulating properties, they had been a god-send to me throughout my life, especially during my time on Yamatai. There was something more to them as well, since there was really no way that berries with such properties laid undiscovered and unexploited in the modern age. They were impossible.

I pushed my thoughts on the weird berries from my mind and focused, catching the tailwind of Dominquez's monologue. Dominguez himself had been revealed as both the prince of the lost city, Amaru, high priest of Kukulkan, and high council of the Illuminati-lite, Trinity. This was truly a shocking turn of events, but not really. It made sense that my greatest enemy would also be the greatest enemy of the world.

"Kukulkan, protect us, guide us, help us reshape and create. Empower and elevate," Dominguez chanted loudly, seemingly oblivious to my presence. I slipped free from my bush, my rough knife slipping into the throat of one of Dominguez's serpent guards. Blood splattered my hand and he made a little gasp, clutching at my strong grip for a moment before sinking to his knees. I dropped to a crouch in the same moment, drawing a feather notched arrow free from my quiver, lining up a perfect shot on another of the serpent guards. The bowstring twanged as I released the arrow wobbled, due to my unsteady grip but still perfectly slid into the side of the serpent guard's helmet.

He dropped bonelessly, and I lined up another arrow, this one to fire straight at the back of Dominguez's head. The tendril of glowing yellow energy, which looked almost like solar light, which of course was impossible. I mean, more impossible than everything else perhaps. Of course, I knew the supernatural existed as far back as Yamatai, with Himiko and all that, but this was on another level.

The arrow disintegrated, not even piercing Dominguez's skin. Well, that was one plan out the window, I muttered softly, examining the almost yellow shroud that surrounded the high priest. My eyes followed it back and to one of the icons.

The icons! Maybe if I destroyed one it would dissipate the power? The next several moments were a bloodbath, a frantic adrenaline-filled combat extravaganza. I remembered splattering a serpent guard's brains with one of my ice-picks, in another moment prying an icon loose. An arrow embedded in my side, amid gasps for tainted air.

I ran out of arrows, having to resort to my rifle first, and then my pistol, each time, more and more serpent guards seemed to materialize. I was beginning to suspect that they might be supernatural as well, given the way they seemed to be no end to them. Dominguez himself seemed to shrug off every lethal strike I managed to give him. The hole closing within moments, allowing him to try and bring the ritual back to completion.

The deepening shadows meant he was close, the sun almost fully eclipsed. The air felt cold, far colder than it had any right to be. One last icon, I groaned, snapping the arrow in my side with numb fingers. The sensation reminded me of climbing Yamatai's ziggurats, but the sensation was not from cold, instead, one of the lacerations in my arm must've gone deep enough to damage a nerve. I kind of hoped that wasn't the case. However, how did that actually matter anymore?

The convergence was close. The ritual end was approaching where Dominguez could act to direct the remaking of reality, or a sacrifice could stop Kukulkan manifesting. The air felt oddly still, poignant as if I stood on the edge of a precipice. I lunged, dodging under the surge of light Dominguez threw at me, and the key of Chak Chel found his chest. His flesh seemed to resist, pushing back for a moment, and then it slipped through piercing his heart.

He groaned and fell backward. I could see his lips moving, what looked almost like broken hope flickering behind his eyes. The realization that he had been wrong, that perhaps his path wasn't the right way. Of course, I doubted that he actually had a change of heart, he just wanted some measure of peace in death.

"Protect Paititi. Please… please, Lara?" He whispered before his brown eyes glazed over with the film of death.

I stepped backward, away from the body, looking down at the glowing golden light now emanating from my body. I spared a long moment to look up at the eclipsed sun, orange behind a dark disk. I snorted in morbid amusement, wondering what this freak eclipse was going to mean for all the astronomers out there, specifically my old professors. I wonder what my father would've thought if he could witness this?

I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked back. The scarred and ritually deformed face of the priestess queen of Paititi's protectors, the Yaaxil tribe, looked into my eyes. She was searching for something, some kind of reassurance. I remembered Unuratu's words, if she could not succeed, Crimson Fire would see it done. So be it. She carefully pulled the Key of Chak Chel, for an instant my fingers seemed to catch upon the hilt, almost as if my body knew what letting it go meant.

My hands raised to my face, feeling the golden mask upon it. It was cold to the touch where I expected it to be warm, from both extortion and magic solar fire. So be it. I spared another glance for the eclipse, mindful of the slowly tensing priestess beside me. I turned then, I knew that my eyes glittered with tears.

"For the world," I murmured. In a way, this self-sacrifice seemed fitting. I had set in motion the apocalypse, even if I had just waited it would've been set in motion anyways. The world overcome by deluge, earthquakes, and fiery hail. However, even if others would've destroyed the world without me, the initial destruction was very much my fault.

My mind flashed back to the little girl, hanging from the window, and a single tear rolled down my cheek, catching on the eye-piece of the crown. I did deserve death, just as she deserved life. I nodded to Crimson Fire, who relaxed slightly, guiding me gently but firmly towards a stone slab. A stone altar really.

I sat upon the edge, Crimson Fire's gentle push enough to push me back, until my weapons, my trusty shotgun, and rifle dug into my back. It was uncomfortable and a small part of me wanted to readjust. If I was to die, shouldn't it be as comfortable as possible? I did not move, the pain was a small penance.

Crimson Fire slowly, almost languidly, lifted the Key of Chak Chel, Mayan words, gibberish from her ruined face whispered beneath her breath. I could see the fading light glimmering off the obsidian facets carved in the athame. My mind flashed to combat, eyeing the knife. I could deflect her strike, rebounding it back into her chest.

I could fight my way out of Paititi, past the Yaaxil tribe. Maybe there was another way, maybe I didn't have to die here? I wrestled that thought down, there was no other way. The sun would start to move in a moment, moving away from convergence and then it would be too late. This must be undone. The actions I have set in motion must be undone.

I let my eyes slip closed. I knew that if I watched the knife descend I would not be able to resist fighting back. My will to survive was too strong. I breathed in, breathed out. I thought back to my childhood. The little structure I explored while waiting for my father to play with me. The little tea parties I had with my mother. Her smile, and my father's smile. I smiled. Maybe death wasn't so bad. White shores and silver beaches and all that…

The pain was so sudden I almost didn't notice it for a second. Deep and penetrating, I could almost imagine the blade nicking my spine. My eyes flew open despite my best efforts and I stared into the suddenly soft eyes of Crimson Fire. Such eyes… my own traced over the red and white markings for a moment, as darkness crept up the edges of my vision.

I exhaled, the sound a death rattle, and I could feel my body unclench, warm droplets rested on my face, and there was a brief tugging sensation almost as if something in my chest was stuck and then… nothing.

The smell was the first thing that seemed to register afterward. It was faint but overwhelming at the same time. It was the scent of animal fur, blood, and strangely enough lust. It was nauseating. I could feel my nose twitch and my eyes flashed open, lighting the room.

I mean that in a literal sense as well as figurative. Twin beams of what almost looked like sunlight stretched from my eyes to the dour stone walls around me. After a moment the light dimmed, returning me to semi-darkness. I lay on a stone table, but oddly enough it was a stone table I recognized. To my left was a throne, carved into the shape of a jaguar, and I was surrounded on walls inlaid with human bone.

This was a location I recognized, it was a place I had visited before. The question remained, what was I doing in Chichen Itza? I pulled myself to my feet, sparing a brief moment to look around the room, my gaze resting upon a misshapen creature. Those remains definitely weren't there before. I looked down at the creature, both human and inhuman looking at the same time.

Its skeleton appeared humanoid, but the skull was deformed, almost bat-like. Just what was going on here? I lifted my hands to my face, they were both covered in blood. Why wasn't I dead?

My hands rested against the altar for a moment as I got my bearings. Something flaked under my fingers and I looked down. Bloodstains rested on the altar, which I knew should be clean. I unclenched and re-clenched my own hands, the blood was still fresh, so it hadn't been from me.

For that matter what had happened? I shuddered, recalling the knife poised above me, my hands darted to the center of my chest, in between my breasts. I didn't care that the elaborate Queen of the damned finery was getting stained by the blood on my hands. For a long, tense moment, I was filled with an irrational fear that there would just be a void where my heart was.

A cavernous hole, straight through the fabric of my green tunic leading to an empty spot where my heart should be. It was irrational, after all, I was alive, and there was no real way I could be walking around and, well, thinking if my heart was missing.

I relaxed a moment later, feeling the comforting if awfully fast, beat of my heart beneath my soiled fingers. Taking a deep breath I tried to relax, quiet my heartbeat. My breaths were coming too fast. I couldn't help but flashback to the moment before, again, and again.

Crimson Fire looming over me like a specter, bloodstained obsidian dagger in her hand. I inhaled, and the sound reminded me of my death rattle, the pain in my back. I sunk to my knees, balling my hands into fists. I sucked in another breath, my muscles felt too tight like they wanted to, no, needed to do something. I was shaking.

My back rested against the altar and I stifled a sob. What was going on? I did what I needed to do? Why was I still here?

One of my hands, still bloody, rubbed at my face with the back of my fist, scraping away the tears that threatened to fall. Through clouded vision, I could see the clear streaks they left on my hands. These bloody hands… I regarded them for a long moment, the weight of all those that I killed seemed to settle around my midriff like a millstone. I struggled to breathe.

Death. Why didn't I die? I started to sob in earnest then, great ugly wracking sobs. My whole body shook silently. One hand rubbed at my face, surely streaking blooding across it. The other clutched for my security blanket, my trusty pistol, one of the ones from Yamatai, so long ago.

After a long while my self-flagellation subsided and I was able to think clearly again, albeit in a rather stilted manner. The first question, which I still had not answered was, why was I in Chichen Itza?

I looked up then, still wiping my face free of tears and with undoubtedly red eyes to scrutinize the room. For just a moment I even doubted this was Chichen Itza. For one the jaguar throne was actually red, and a lustrous red, when it should've been more mottled. I climbed to my feet, again examining the altar. The blood on it was not fresh, it was at least a couple weeks old. At least that was my estimate from the way it flaked under my fingernails. There also was the matter of the lights.

There was supposed to be a bare yellow lightbulb with clearly visible wire. That was not the case, instead, a torch burned in the corner, casting the room in a warm glow. There was also no metal grate which had been added to separate tourists. This was either not Chichen Itza, or… I pushed that thought away. I would handle that thought when I was good and ready.

I walked around the altar, my boots making nary a sound. If I had been quiet enough to stalk a jaguar in its own habitat, you can be bloody sure I was quiet as a mouse in a stone room. It was not wise to make noise within these ancient tombs. Especially, not when I had my doubts this was even a place I actually knew.

I crouched by the shriveled skeleton. It was dressed in red cloth, and the canines and snout were clearly elongated. Inhuman. Jewelry, gold and red silk draped its form. I pulled on the skull, twisting it towards me. Whatever this thing was, it was not human, and probably never was. It wasn't like the Yaaxil tribe or the samurai on Yamatai that played at being inhuman purposely, this thing was not human.

It was a little bigger than a human skull, much more solidly built, reminding me of almost a Chiroptera skull, if that had somehow fused with a human skull. I lifted a drooping, desiccated arm, feeling the folds of stiff skin around it. What the bloody hell?

I pulled the arm straight out, letting the arm extend, I could feel the dried out ligaments snap from the sudden swift movement. A part of me, the university part, quailed at so roughly handling an archeological find. The other part, which was way stronger, and which I probably got from my father, was more like, we need to figure this out now, get with it, Lara.

The thing had wings like a bat. Okay, I officially had no idea what this thing was. My eyes darted back up to the skull and the elongated canine fangs. Could it be? No way, that wasn't possible, I thought stubbornly. Except, maybe…

All right, this is what I knew. I was in a Mayan pyramid. I was in what appeared to be a sacrificial room, which might be in Chichen Itza. The Mayans regularly sacrificed live victims to their gods, because the gods needed human blood to survive. This thing was partially bat, and with fangs like those… was this some kind of ancient Mayan vampire god? Vampires were real?

I snorted, dropping the grimy remains. My lips twitched, there was no way that was true. This was as absurd as the ancient aliens theories. A little hysterical giggle escaped my lips. After my breakdown, this was just too much. Vampire gods. Really?

My amusement was arrested by the sudden sound of boots scraping over loose stone tiles. My mind immediately flashed to Trinity and then to the Yaaxil tribe, and then to vampires. Yeah, no way was I just going to stand out in the open. I jumped up, leveraging myself into the spot between two ceiling pillars as if this were a movie. My core burned after a moment from the exertion, but I didn't fall. Guess all that rock climbing core training I've taken for years helped in these kinds of absurd movie-esque scenarios.

"Can't believe Dresden wiped out the whole court," I heard a deep male voice speak, around what sounded like a cigar. His accent was Texan, which was surprising, Trinity mainly recruited from Europe. A moment later I shook my head slightly, mindful of my position, just because there were people in boots trooping around some old ruins didn't make them Trinity.

Of more importance, who or what was Dresden and what was a court?

"I can hardly believe it either," another voice, much younger said, "It's like something right out of legend."

"And not the nice kumbaya kind either," the older voice grunted after a moment, "Heard he made some kind of deal with Winter, which would explain some."

Two men in tattered grey cloaks swept into the room, right under me, both had swords strapped to their sides. One ruffled underneath his grey cloak for a moment before pulling free an electric torch, shining it around into the corners of the room.

"Well lookie here," the older one said, "Who's this? Hmm, looks like it tried to make a circle."

He stepped over to the remains, prodding it with his foot, "That curse must've been mighty powerful, chewed right through the connection, burning out this circle. See the rune there? This was a mighty powerful ward this thing was hiding behind."

"Who was it then?" The younger said stepping over to the elder, "Thought we accounted for the bodies of all the big names?"

"Just the Lords of the Outer Night, and most of the nobles, we still haven't found the ol' red king anywhere yet."

My muscles were starting to burn, I hadn't really trained for this kind of stupid stealth aerobics. I silently dropped to my feet, landing with barely the sound of a feather falling.

Crunch. My boot scraped across a stone as I made to leave the room and conversation, which was admittedly quite interesting, even if I didn't understand any of it.

Both the men in grey turned quickly, they seemed almost as high strung as I was. For a brief moment, we both seemed to take in the appearance of each other. The younger one looked Hispanic and had just the bare spatterings of a beard. The elder had a deep black mustache and a cigar sticking out of the side of his mouth. He clutched a long staff in one hand. It made him look like some kind of wild west take on Gandalf, to be honest. The other had what looked to an actual bonafide wand in one hand, at least it was an ornately carved stick, while his other hand was already grasping for his sword's hilt.

I wondered what they made of me. I was still in my Queen of the Damned ensemble. Gold and viridian crown-mask, and feathered green tunic.

The elder's eyes bulged and the younger choked out, "Red Court!"

The younger one thrust his hand forward, a word upon his lips, "Agni!"

And fire bloomed, from the tip of his wooden wand.

It was a testament to my fast-twitch reflexes that I didn't get turned into fried Lara. Or really, if I was being honest it was a testament to all my long, very long, experience reacting to the barest shred of stimuli. Minute shifts in rocks beneath my feet, jump. The slightest twitch in an enemy, strike.

That was how I avoided the stick turned flamethrower. I was lucky that where I dropped down had a convenient doorway next to it for me to duck into. Even then I felt blisters form on the back of my neck from the intense fiery heat. For a moment I allowed myself to speculate exactly how useful a flamethrower would've been during my myriad adventures. The answer was, of course, very useful.

That line of thought didn't actually help me right now, though, so I thrust it away. The torrent of fire was still ongoing, whatever they had fueling it, they didn't seem too worried about running out. I refused to believe that there were honest to God mages running around the world. Oh sure, I'd seen feats of clear supernatural power, but those were usually by clear supernatural beings. Not perpetuated by some bloody Texan Gandalf and a Witcher fan.

I frowned, Agni might also mean a certain Hindu god of fire…

Not important! I chastised myself harshly. I could continue down this hallway, but already I could see it became swiftly dark, there were no working lights, I could see fragments, burst lightbulb glass on the stone floor, but no indication of where it led. Actually, didn't I have a flashlight in my satchel? My hand groped for my side as the torrent of flame started to die down.

The edges of the doorway were red hot, the stone and mud cement running like water. He better hope that there wasn't anything under this floor, because the whole integrity was completely shot with that kind of heat.

I clutched my silver River Hawk pistol. Good old River Hawk saved me a mite or two when all else failed. It was a real pain to shoot in the beginning, the recoil enough to send lances of pain up my arm, but now after so much practice, it felt perfectly natural. It probably helped that it really worked well against Trinity soldiers with helmets.

I stepped out of the doorway, I could smell burning rubber immediately. Yes, that floor was immensely hot.

The younger man gawked, "It's still alive?"

The elder scowled, dropping what appeared to be a dead electric torch, he had one hand raised towards me, and I had half a moment to marvel at the truly impressive handful of rings he was wearing when the air seemed to ripple.

"Nathair!" yellowish beams of light seemed to dance from his rings, sailing towards me. I ducked below, hissing as my knees burned from scraping against the smoldering floor. My mouth was half-open, ready to shout that I didn't even know who they were, but I bit back my exclamation.

They had opened fire first. It reminded me of back on Yamatai, giving up our pistol to the cannibals on that island. Always negotiate from a position of strength. Now, I had no idea whether these people were connected with Trinity but based on the fact that they were here right when I was awakening? I wasn't going to take chances. I vaulted away, pushing off my knees and diving behind the altar's raised dais.

The yellow serpents splashed into the wall, almost seemed like they wanted to curve back towards me but then dissipated.

"Are you with Trinity?" I decided to call out, despite my misgivings. My voice sounded more hoarse then I had remembered it ever being. I didn't spare any more thought to my voice, if I was going to escalate then I needed to know now.

"Trinity?" The older one muttered, breaking whatever he was muttering under his breath.

"British? There are British vampires?" The younger said, in what sounded like stupefaction.

"I'm not a vampire!" I called back, even as I could hear their footsteps approaching me from either side, one coming from each side of the altar. I clutched at my River Hawk. Was I really going to need to escalate again, so soon?

"Sure," the elder one sounded amused, but his following words were measured as if his mind was reciting something else, "Can't say I haven't heard that one before, let me ask, how exactly did you escape the bloodline curse? Wiped out the rest of your kind here, bloodsucker."

So here I was, evidentially cornered by two wannabe Van Helsing's, who clearly thought I was some kind of ancient Mayan vampire. I sighed, it was the clothes, wasn't it? Why couldn't I ever wear nice things? I pushed away from the stupid thought that stripping might make them lose their obsession.

"I actually have no idea what you're talking about!" I yelled back, watching for a moment until I could just see the shadow of the older man, illuminated by the torch behind him, and then I vaulted into motion, even as he seemed to raise his unsheathed sword to intercept. It almost bisected me, but I twisted in mid-air in an almost supernatural display of dexterity. My trailing foot came round, hitting the flat of the blade with the flat of my boot. It fell to the ground with a loud clatter. I could almost feel a shock travel up my leg from the impact as if I had just roundhouse kicked a cement pillar.

That hurt far more than it should've. Despite that setback, I hit the ground behind the man deftly, twisting at the same moment into a scissoring takedown. My good leg sliding behind both of his and my other leg slamming into his chest. He grunted, his long wooden staff flying free to join the sword as he flipped over backward.

There was a meaty thud as first, his back slammed into the stone floor with no small amount of force and then his head bounced off it once. I pushed him off my leg. Good job Lara, my guilty conscious decided to compliment/nag me, how long has it been since you chose to make a non-lethal takedown? I inhaled shallowly for a moment, pushing that thought aside before snatching up the long silver sword.

Or at least I tried too. My flesh seared, literally burning as I tried to grip the blade. My stubborn Croft arse held onto it a moment longer before letting it go, not able to stand the smell of scorched flesh anymore. The mix was nauseating all over again, burnt blood and burnt flesh. My hands flickered white, almost gleaming with the same inner light that had possessed Dominguez, but when it abated my hands were still ruined.

"Aard!" the other, who I had somehow managed to neglect shouted. I had barely time to turn before, I was launched into the wall headfirst. Even so, I managed to twist in midair, managing to turn enough that my side only hit the wall instead of my whole face. I felt a long broken shard of a tibia bone spear through the flesh between my thumb and hand.

I bit back a hiss as the new blood added to my already stained hands.

"Back!" The man brandished a crucifix my way, a little silver crucifix with a tiny golden figure of Jesus on it. Did he seriously actually think I was a vampire? I pushed myself to my feet slowly, several of my headdress's viridian feathers were bent. Another fluttered down, coming to rest softly on the tiled floor.

"Not a vampire!" I replied, hissing the words due to the pain, which probably didn't help my case any.

"Then why did you attack?" He accused. He now stood over the body of the other man, almost seeming to circle him. Beads of sweat ran down the side of his head, gathering in his short black mustache. I snorted, shaking my pistol in my un-bleeding hand.

"You actually attacked first, if you would care to remember," I replied snidely, before adding in a soft but still sharp voice, "You both are lucky I decided to even try diplomacy."

The man's eyes glimmered with anger but he held his tongue, so I continued, "As I asked before, are you with Trinity?"

Several emotions flashed over the man's face, before he settled on, "Like the Holy Trinity?"

I was about to reply when I just barely caught the glimmer of triumph flit over his face. What had I just fallen for? What had I missed?

I could barely hear his shout over the absolutely massive column of fire that blasted out from his wand, straight towards my position. Of course, I didn't just stand there like a blasted idiot and try to tank a literal flamethrower, instead, I threw myself to the side, back towards the altar, just narrowly avoiding the pivoting flame.

I felt the flames pass overhead, even as the tiles heated painfully under my hands. I had barely a moment to remember what I had thought about the heat earlier before I felt the floor began to give. I frantically grabbed for my climbing axes, but it slipped through my scalded fingers.

I also had a brief moment to recall that all of Chichen Itza was built atop an enormous underground cenote.