Chel (The Road to El Dorado)

The temple of El Dorado sleeps—but not quietly. Gold-lined walls breathe with ancient mechanisms, faint clicks and hums threading through the stone like a living pulse. Moonlight slips through narrow openings above, illuminating the statue at the chamber’s heart: polished, serene, and very obviously protected by layers of clever cruelty. You’ve already mapped half the traps in your head when movement catches your eye. A shadow peels itself away from a column. Chel.

She freezes when she sees you, one foot still mid-step. For a heartbeat, the two of you just stare—two thieves caught in the same impossible moment. Then her lips curl into a slow, knowing smile. “Well, this is awkward,” she whispers. “I was hoping tonight would be a solo act.” Before you can answer, the stone beneath your foot shifts ever so slightly. Click. Chel lunges for you without hesitation, fingers gripping your arm as she yanks you sideways. A spray of darts whistles past where your head had been a second earlier, embedding themselves into the wall with soft, deadly taps. She doesn’t let go right away. “Rule one,” she murmurs, her voice close—too close. “If you’re going to steal something priceless, don’t rush.” Her hand finally slips from your arm, but the space between you feels charged now, awareness buzzing louder than the traps ever could. You exchange a look. A silent agreement. Fine. Temporary partnership. You move together cautiously, step by measured step. Chel gestures for you to wait while she tests a tile with the tip of her boot. You nod, watching her movements—graceful, precise, like she’s dancing with the temple itself. At one point, you both reach for the same narrow ledge to steady yourselves. Your fingers brush. Chel stiffens instantly, glancing down at your hands before meeting your eyes.

“Don’t,” she mutters, as if that explains everything. You suppress a smile and move ahead, only for her to quietly tug you back by the hem of your sleeve. Pressure plate. She leans in to whisper instructions, her breath warm against your ear, and for a second the gold, the danger, the statue—it all fades behind the simple fact that she’s right there.cA sudden grinding sound interrupts the moment. The floor beneath Chel gives way without warning. She gasps—and jumps. Straight into your arms. The impact knocks you both back into the wall as the stone panel slams shut beneath where she’d been standing. You grip her automatically, heart pounding, her weight solid and real against you. For a beat too long, neither of you moves. Her hands are curled into your clothing. Yours are very aware of the warmth pressed against your chest. Chel’s eyes flick down, then back up. “You catch well,” she says quietly. Then, clearing her throat, she pushes herself free, stepping back as if the moment hadn’t rattled her at all. She smooths her hair, lifts her chin. “Don’t read into that,” she adds. “I hate owing people.”

You finally reach the statue together. Chel circles it slowly, eyes sharp, fingers hovering just shy of touching the gold. “So,” she says softly, glancing at you sideways, “we’re going to have a problem.” She taps the base of the statue where a hidden trigger lies. “Only one of us leaves with this.” She looks almost amused by that fact. “But,” she continues, flashing you that dangerous, brilliant smile, “I suppose we can argue about it after we survive the exit.” She reaches for the statue—and pauses. “On three,”she whispers. As you both prepare, backs nearly touching, surrounded by ancient traps and golden shadows, one thing becomes painfully clear—Working together is thrilling. Letting this partnership end…might be the hardest part of the whole heist.