The man smiled and patted Dagan on the knee. Dagan was amazed at the parallels to Christianity—a returning prophet, like a second coming, and the creation of Jesus from a god. Of course, this might be nothing more than the  blending of religions. The first Christian Spaniards had encountered the Q’ero hundreds of years ago, and their missionaries had shared the gospel then before disappearing. Q’ero legend had it that the Spaniards had not been kind to the Q’ero, and their disappearance had been at the hand of the mountain gods, or Apus, who had buried the invaders in a rockslide caused by a massive earthquake.

“We believe,” Dagan said, choosing his words carefully, “that Jesus Christ is not only the Son of God, but that He is God, who came to us in the form of man so that His sacrifice, by dying on the cross, would allow for our sins to be forgiven and our covenant restored with God. In doing so, we have a relationship with God, and by accepting Jesus as our Lord and Savior, we may have eternal life .”

The older man leaned over, speaking rapidly to the younger paqos in their native Quechua. They conversed heatedly but without anger. Then the old man smiled at him again and nodded.

“We believe,” he said, seemingly excited to give Dagan his spin on this, “that all things were created by Pachamama. It is to Pachamama we give our praise and who must certainly have created your Jesus Christ. By finding balance in all things we honor Pachamama and find peace and harmony with each other and all that exists—including your Jesus Christ.”

Dagan nodded, wondering how to politely suggest that what the Q’ero called Pachamama could simply be another name for the one true God. He’d been taught to find commonality in both culture and religion while doing missionary work. Sharing new knowledge was easier if it didn’t require others to abandon their tightly held beliefs entirely.

“If we can agree that God and Pachamama are names given by our different peoples to the one true God of the universe—”

A scream cut him off.

Then came a sound much like a muffled explosion, and the smell of sulfur filled the air.

Dagan was on his feet but a beat behind the elders. He fell in behind them, lunging for the door as his heart accelerated in his chest. The old man pushed aside the brightly colored tapestry over the doorway, which fell back into Dagan’s face. When he pushed it aside, he froze in place, mouth dropping open and hands trembling.