Blood & Fur

Chapter Eighty-Four: Obsidian Butterfly

I couldn’t find a measure of sense anywhere I looked.

I had been warned that the gods only gave humans their current shape during Tlaloc’s tenure, but this place soon made me realize that this held true of most beasts of the earth, water, and sky. The thousand abominations inhabiting this land all seemed both familiar and disturbingly grotesque. I saw dog-sized eggs with legs, apes with extra sets of arms, and walking fish with wings. Each of them bore parts from creatures thriving in the world of the living, but twisted and mismatched.

And all of them were rotten to the core.

I saw a parade where deformed demons dragged giant statues of reeds with cages for chests, within which raged captive apes. The fiends danced around them for a while before setting the prisons on fire with torches, their songs drowning out the screams of the burning prisoners. Others walked around with sticks topped with the squirming body parts of a humanoid being. When I paid more attention to those, I noticed eyes on feet staring back at me and hands with gnashing teeth.

I saw a road-sized centipede walk across a street of bones, only to realize its body was made of stitched-together corpses melded into an unholy embrace. The creature grabbed people screeching off the ground to add them to its mass, growing longer and larger with each new link in its chain of flesh. Most disturbingly, passerbyers fought for the honor of being chosen, throwing others out of the way and welcoming the abomination’s attempts to merge with them.

I saw a masked ape the size of a city wall carrying and drinking from a glass of water filled with smaller versions of its kindred rutting inside, along with a massive fish with arms transporting a platter on which lay a wolf-faced man. The latter scooped his own exposed entrails up with a spoon, dining upon his own organs before closing his stomach as if it were a simple bag of clothes. The procession walked in front of a line of white hares hung by their intestines from a tree, with the animals chirping as they swung from the branches.

This orgy of horrors explained neatly how this demonic assembly could sustain itself after eons of such debauchery. This hell was beyond death’s grasp, and one’s demise was no more than a brief respite from the unending chaos.

Mother and I observed the procession of the mad from atop a building, unseen and uncared for besides the presence of obsidian butterflies flying near us. I was certain that this Layer’s inhabitants had seen us, but they paid us no mind anyway. Either their senses had dulled, or they didn’t care for anything outside their own surreal pleasures.

I had walked into a nightmare without beginning nor end, inhabited by the delirious and the forsaken.

“I would not speak for a god, but I can guess,” Mother said. “He has given up on these fools.”

I guessed she was likely right. All texts said that Quetzalcoatl abandoned the second incarnation of humanity after they descended into evil and allowed Tlaloc to start creation back from scratch; and I could hardly blame him when I saw these… these animals.

Part of me wished to set this place on fire with the Blaze out of disgust, but we had neither the time nor the need. We’d come to this land to meet with Quetzalcoatl and earn his embers, not judge his wayward followers.

“Let us go,” I told Mother. “We have no time to waste on these things.”

“Agreed,” Mother replied. “Following Quetzalcoatl’s morning star appears to be our best bet.”

“What insight!” I responded dryly as I prepared to fly away in owl form, only for me to stop when I sensed a cold wind rising.

I wouldn’t have paid it much attention were it not for the way it battered on my wings and feathers. The wind was sharp, unnaturally so. I sensed invisible blades grazing my skin and beak, which I recognized as somehow intentional. An oppressive aura of gleeful malevolence traveled through the breeze.

The parade grew wilder still. The thundering noise of skin drums, bone flutes, and obsidian whistles blasted through the dark night in a numbing cacophony. The fiends that inhabited this twisted parody of a civilization began to sing and screech in unison, when before there was only chaos.

“Something is wrong, my son!” Mother said with disquiet, her beak pointing at the sky. “The stars are gone!”

She was right. The starlit sky had grown pitch black, lit only by Quetzalcoatl’s evershining morning star. Lightning flashed closer and closer in the darkness, heralding the coming of something great, vile, and terrible. The peal of thunder grew louder and almost deafening.

Mother had called upon the Cloak to protect herself, and so did I. The winds of fortune barely offered meager comfort from the rising storm. The fire within my soul beseeched me to find shelter with haste, for the story of this cosmos’ demise rang in my head.

Quetzalcoatl had wiped away his world’s sins with a hurricane.

Would he do so again?

Whatever the case, the madmen of Tamōhuānchān did not fear whatever disaster loomed. They sang and screeched and jumped in place with wicked abandon, as if welcoming their incoming destruction. Mountains with eyes bellowed like toads chanting in the night all while the wind grew stronger still.

“Here!” Mother hastily pointed at a cave dug into a hill with skin. This ‘shelter’ was hardly enticing, but my heart-fire burned with fear’s bitter glow.

I could feel a presence approaching us; an entity of divine might and greater evil than the Lords of Terror themselves. I sensed the will of a god flow with the wind, malicious and hungry.

Mother and I took refuge in the cave as the citizens of Tamōhuānchān descended into an insane frenzy. Bloodthirst took them over as they began to hack and bite at each other like rabid dogs, their flesh washing over the city of the deranged. They killed and raped and beat up each other under the stormwracked sky. The wind now blew with enough strength to send stones flying. Enormous bolts of lightning struck the hills and tore them asunder. Each of them echoed with a rumbling, droning sound which I quickly recognized.

A roar.

While Mother retreated into the cave’s shadows, her wing raised to protect herself from the storm, I dared to peek outside. The oppressive aura was now so thick I could almost taste the familiar stench of death on the tip of my tongue. The obsidian butterflies gathered in a great black swarm, spiraling above the demonic city.

Worst of all, the dark chain that bound me to the First Emperor pulsed with newfound life. The darkness within me stirred after his daughters’ ritual briefly cowed it into silence. Night called out to night, with the shadows recognizing their own. The evil within this place called out to my predecessor, and thus to me.

A searing thunderbolt fell upon the earth and the stars returned with a shriek.

The black butterflies lit up all at once with starlight, each of them undergoing a terrifying transformation. They grew as large as men, their wings expanding to reveal monstrous skeletal figures crusted with blackened rocks. These entities wore the skirts and dresses of human women, but woven with otherworldly miasma and bony shells rather than fibers; crowns of paper banners and necklaces of human hearts and hands adorned their fleshless heads, while their eyes shone with the deathly hue of pale blue stars, and their joints ended in screaming faces. Merely staring at these shrieking horrors filled me with unease.

I had seen these things on temple murals during my childhood, when the priests warned us what would happen should the sun ever fall.

“The Tzitzimīmeh…” I muttered under my breath while Mother watched this court of monsters in horrified silence.

These were the demons of the stars, daughters of chaos, who would descend to devour the living on the death of the Fifth Sun. Legends said that they were the spirits of women who died in childbirth, but I doubted these snarling horrors had ever been human once. They illuminated the night with their numbers, their wings flapping and their clawed hands clapping in anticipation.

But an even greater horror arose from the darkness itself.

The shadows sharpened into the shape of a gigantic figure taller than Smoke Mountain. The mere sight of it gave me a searing headache as my mind struggled to comprehend its form. I saw a blurred face filled with obsidian fangs and a skeletal maw, but the features continued to shift and change with each blink of the eye. Its butterfly wings were carved from stone and its immense hands were made from the very fabric of the night itself.

I would have likely gone mad at the sight of the creature without the embers fueling my heart-fire, the same way witnessing the First Emperor the first time wounded me in my very soul; even Mother, who had only had a taste of a single dead sun, visibly struggled not to shake in fear. I myself could only stare at that thing as it whipped up a storm around itself. The winds that battered this maddened hellscape grew into a hurricane. The mighty gusts uprooted houses and monsters alike, drawing them into the sky.

The Tzitzimīmeh rejoiced and gracefully glided among the air currents, snatching flying people up in their claws and swiftly tearing them apart. Their monstrous deity waved its arms to scoop up its share of flesh with its immense hands. It grabbed victims by the clusters, crushing and eating them into its pitch black maw. Its ravenous hunger was a mere echo of the First Emperor’s bottomless appetite, yet it filled me with dread nonetheless.

Mother and I could only watch without a sound as death and destruction rained across Tamōhuānchān. The hurricane tore the city apart and battered the hill within which we hid with such relentless strength that it swayed left and right. The storm flattened buildings, earthquakes collapsed their ruins, and the Tzitzimīmeh feasted.

How long did this hideous spectacle unfold? An hour? More? It was amazing how little time mattered to a mind awed by cosmic destruction.

I couldn’t tell exactly when it ended either, except that it did. By the time the wind grew quiet, not a trace remained of the demonic city. The Tzitzimīmeh had devoured every single last of its inhabitants until they at last stopped screeching, their hunger finally satiated.

The shadowy entity which they flew around like a court of handmaidens around a queen loomed over the desert of its own creation, silent and all-powerful. Although it had no eyes with which to glare, I sensed the weight of its attention upon me. It had known of our presence from the very start, and this spectacle had been for our sake to enjoy.

And then the darkness spoke to me with the most enchanting of voices.

“Come out, Cizin,” she called out with deep, sensual femininity. “You too, Ichtaca. Come out, my children.”

While I considered what to do, Mother had already begun walking out of the cave. I saw no bravery in her movements, only the obedience of a weaker mind bound by magic too strong for her to resist. Her lack of a second set of embers and spine spelled her doom.

While I had no love left for her, Father wouldn’t forgive me if I simply watched Mother being devoured by horrors from the stars. I stepped outside the cave with more confidence than her, partly altering my Spiritual Manifestation to emerge in the shape of a winged man with talons for hands rather than an owl. I would face danger as a mighty sorcerer and not as a meek victim.

The Tzitzimīmeh hissed at our arrival, though they made no move to attack us. The great shadow which they served shrank in an instant to greet us among the ruins. The unrecognizable titan from earlier shifted into the silhouette of a graceful, slender woman with long white hair bound by a human femur. Her skin was black like obsidian, and her butterfly wings pitch black. The image of stars twinkled within them in a dance that was both enrapturing and mesmerizing, while her eyes seemed crafted from molten silver.

I had stood in the presence of great beauties, inhuman or otherwise, but the otherworldly splendor and arousing loveliness of that creature put them all to shame. Her face seemed to have been sculpted from stainless glass. She exuded some kind of powerful animal magnetism and gorgeous sensuality that put Iztacoatl to shame. Her skirt of burning snakes hardly left anything to imagination, and it would have been so easy to remove them and kiss her feet in ador–

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“I refuse…” I growled as I forced myself to focus. I struggled against the veil overtaking my mind and pierced through it with the blazing fire of my hatred. I bowed to no one. “It will take more than that to control me.”

The obsidian deity smiled with lips sharper than daggers. This creature was a goddess of some sort, but a very different kind than Queen Mictecacihuatl. The lady of Mictlan embodied the regal majesty of a gentle death, while I only felt malice coming from this entity. She had a predator’s beauty, and the charm of an ancient forest waiting to devour whoever dared venture into its dark woods.

Considering how obediently the Tzitzimīmeh behaved in her presence, I had a good idea of who she was; and the danger in which Mother and I now found ourselves.

“I do not seek to control you, Emperor of Yohuachanca,” she said with a musical voice that sounded both arousing and revolting at the same time. “I arose from the blood of Ōmecihuātl, the female half of the primordial being Ōmeteōtl from which all of life sprang. When a male dreams of an ideal partner, they desire me. If you cannot resist your lust, the fault falls with you.” She leaned in to better study my face, the very air growing sharper around her. “Although if you wish to give in, I would gladly give you the pleasure of a lifetime.”

I had spent enough time around the Nightlords to know how this would end. “Because you will devour me afterwards, goddess?”

“Why not?” The goddess’ laugh rang like clashing flintstones. “Call me old-fashioned, but I believe death completes the act. A man grows superfluous once he has planted his seed.”

This philosophy would be undoubtedly popular in Chilam, but even the cruelest of Amazons would be hard-pressed to worship this deity.

“You are Itzpapalotl, the Obsidian Butterfly,” I guessed, hiding my unease behind the cold majesty of an emperor. “Goddess of the stillborn, violence, and miners. Queen of the Tzitzimīmeh, who will devour mankind once the Fifth Sun comes to an end.”

“You have sired a well-behaved and cultured boy, Ichtaca, but he is too polite by half,” the goddess replied, confirming my suspicions. “You have forgotten the most important part of my portfolio, my child.”

She snapped her fingers and summoned a flying obsidian knife from nothing. The shard of sharpened glass floated right in front of my heart, begging to enter it like a key fitting through a hole.

“Sacrifice,” Itzpapalotl said softly.

My fists clenched so tightly they began to hurt and I struggled to hold my tongue. The rational part of me would think to bow and pretend politeness, but her very presence unnerved and enraged me in a way no other gods had thus far. She reminded me too much of my tormentors to inspire anything more than disgust.

Her smile boasted the Jaguar Woman’s cunning, Iztacoatl’s petty cruelty, Sugey’s brutality, and even Yoloxochitl’s warped affection. She was the ideal that the Nightlords aspired to; the goddess who introduced mankind to human sacrifice and would feast upon them during the end times. This city’s destruction was but a rehearsal for the inevitable fall of man.

Thankfully, Itzpapalotl seemed utterly uninterested in servility. She didn’t ask me to bow nor demanded respect like Tlaloc. In fact, my obvious loathing appeared to amuse her. I did not lower my guard in the slightest, however; a goddess’ interest was far more threatening than her indifference.

“All souls bound to an altar enjoy my favor,” Itzpapalotl declared, stars shining brightly on her wings. “Whether pauper or emperor.”

“I must have disappointed Your Majesty then, for taking my own life ahead of time,” I replied calmly. “And I will disappoint her still.”

“You would be wrong,” Itzpapalotl replied. “A sacrifice is only meaningful when freely given in the service of a sincere cause. If it is made under false pretenses, it is merely shameful. Your mistresses’ attempts to steal the heavens’ glory do not endear them to me in the slightest, I can assure you.”

The obsidian shard moved in front of my heart-fire and pressed against my bones. A familiar, sharp pain followed in its wake. The shard caressed the exact spot where I once stabbed myself on the first day of my tenure.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

“When the Fifth Sun rose, it was I who first taught your ancestors the importance of offering their lives to keep it in the sky,” Itzpapalotl declared with what could pass for fondness. “Your decision to offer your life as a statement against your false gods was a bold move worthy of respect. Were it up to me, you would have enjoyed the dignity of a final death.”

Her statement took me aback. “Your Majesty taught men to give their lives to prolong the Fifth Sun?” I asked in disbelief. “Even though it delays your coming?”

“Why would I be in a hurry to slaughter the living? I’ve lived through four dead suns, and we have plenty of entertainment here until the day of reckoning.” Itzpapalotl’s dagger turned to smoke between her fingers. “Should the current sun fall, it shall be out of mortal folly and laziness rather than divine interference, and my coming your punishment.”

I supposed it made some twisted amount of sense. Much like Mictlantecuhtli failed to understand life because he had always been dead and how Tlaloc’s temper raged like the storm of his soul, Itzpapalotl embodied her role beyond human understanding of morality. She could find nobility in delaying the inevitable while still carrying it through without remorse.

Itzpapalotl’s gaze turned to Mother next, who unlike I had the sense to bow in her true form. The goddess raised an eyebrow upon noticing her visitor’s shaking hands and sweat.

“Why tremble so, my beautiful child?” Itzpapalotl lowered herself and proceeded to gently grab Mother’s cheeks with exquisite delicateness, much to my utter surprise. The goddess guided Mother to look up and offered her a smile without an edge. “You will always be welcome here.”

Her words sent a dreadful shiver down my spine; not because they were spoken with irony or mockery, but because they sounded utterly sincere.

Mother’s fear didn’t lessen in the slightest, though she regained enough presence of mind to answer. “Thank you for welcoming my son and I to this foreign land, Your Majesty.”

“Ichtaca, Ichtaca, please… You have no need for such servility here.” The goddess stroked Mother’s hair with what could pass for a twisted mockery of maternal fondness. “You feel it in your soul, do you not? The flame that yearns to join my stars? There is a place for you among my handmaidens.”

I dared to take a look at the Tzitzimīmeh. Most of them now roosted among the twisted hills, their starlight eyes observing me with barely restrained hunger. A few still had body parts of their latest meal stuck between their fangs.

I tried to imagine one of them bearing Mother’s face. I supposed she would fit right in among demons.

Of course, one of Mother’s few good qualities was her inability to settle for being another’s slave. We had that in common at least.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but I must decline,” she said, carefully choosing her words. “My son and I must seek an audience with Lord Quetzalcoatl. We have a message to deliver to him.”

“Alongside a request for divine favor, I would presume?” Itzpapalotl asked. I remained still with a spell on the tip of my tongue should the worst come to pass, but the goddess answered our fears with a light chuckle. “I understand. Take your time to think this through, my dear child. I can wait until your sun comes to an end.”

She sounded confident Quetzalcoatl wouldn’t bless Mother, and I could only agree with her assumption. While I wouldn’t be foolish enough to believe a goddess destined to slaughter my kind, her wording did imply that she had no intention of interfering with our quest. That was good. We had too many foes and too few friends.

“Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty,” Mother said as the goddess released her. She was too cunning and careful to let honeyed words smother her ears, but unfortunately too ambitious to simply let it go. “If you do not mind, would you kindly answer a few questions which crossed my mind?”

“With pleasure, my child.” Itzpapalotl’s wings flapped gently, the air they sent reeking of dust and death. “Whether I answer you or not remains at my discretion, of course.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mother dared to glance at the Tzitzimīmeh and then at the morning star shining across the horizon. “I was under the impression that Lord Quetzalcoatl reigned over this layer.”

“He does,” Itzpapalotl replied calmly. “My nephew and I share this paradise. He reigns and I rule.”

“Paradise?” I almost choked on the word. “I must admit I do not understand Your Majesty’s meaning.”

“Are you truly so blind, Cizin?” Itzpapalotl smiled thinly at me. “My handmaidens perished in childbirth with hearts full of hatred and sorrow. They died to give life to another, and bitterly resent that loss.”

She waved her hand at the chaos and desolation which she and her Tzitzimīmeh had sowed across the land.

“For them,” she declared. “This place is heaven.”

I supposed there was some bitter truth to it. To angry demons finding happiness in tormenting the living, an inexhaustible supply of victims would be most pleasing.

“Mourn them not, my child,” Itzpapalotl said, as if reading my mind. “These wicked souls will be reborn to party and suffer once more. Such is their blessing and their curse. Those who aspired to peace and enlightenment made their way up to Mictlan eons ago. Only the worst of the worst remains to revel in their filth.”

“I have no pity for these creatures,” I replied. The atrocities that unfolded before the goddess’ arrival more than destroyed my sympathy for them. Unlike the Burned Men, these people had willingly chosen evil and madness. “Would Your Majesty show us how to reach her nephew?”

Itzpapalotl’s head slightly leaned to the side, her smile growing faint with mockery. “Misguided Cizin, how could I force open a barred door?”

My spine stiffened and my burning blood ran cold in my veins. “I do not understand.”

“If my nephew had wanted to see you, he would have opened the Gate of the Twin-Breaths and guided you to his abode the moment you crossed our threshold,” the goddess explained with flintstone laughter. “The truth is that he has no intention to grant your request, and it was I who opened the path to you.”

Mother’s eyes widened in understanding. “The first breath and the last…”

“Indeed, my child.” Itzpapalotl nodded sharply. “As patroness of the stillborn, those whose lives ended before they could truly begin shall always be welcomed within my halls.”

My jaw clenched. I could guess why Quetzalcoatl would deny me, but I still asked for confirmation. “Why won’t the Feathered Serpent see me?”

“Because your heart is as impure as this domain, and your ascension would give rise to a terrible evil.” Itzpapalotl pointed at my heart-fire and the darkness lurking deep within it. “My nephew has learned from his previous mistake. He won’t allow another scourge of man to arise; not with his blessing at least.”

A terrible coldness overwhelmed my heart and my shadow lengthened. I smelled the stench of sulfur and sensed the otherworldly chill that always preceded the First Emperor’s appearances. This faint presence barely lasted a second, but it resulted in the Tzitzimīmeh baring their fangs at me and Mother squinting at me with unease.

Itzpapalotl alone appeared unbothered. “I sense the presence of Yohuachanca within you, that most sinister of deities,” she told me. “My nephew granted him his embers once and bitterly regretted it since. He will not bless you as you are.”

Calling someone sinister spokes volumes when coming from such a fierce deity. Nonetheless, I wasn’t so foolish as to take her at her word. I had a good excuse to test the waters when it came to Quetzalcoatl, or at least secure an audience.

“I have a message to deliver to Lord Quetzalcoatl on behalf of his brother, Xolotl,” I insisted. “Whether or not he shall deny me his power, duty compels me to fulfill this task.”

“Duty, or ambition?” Itzpapalotl’s bemused expression told me she wasn’t fooled by my words in the slightest. “Suit yourself, Cizin. Disappointment is an apt teacher.”

The way she kept calling me Cizin annoyed me to no end. It took me a moment to realize why; it was a subtle taunt, and a reminder of the stain I welcomed into my soul. If my victory in Xibalba indeed poisoned Quetzalcoatl’s mind against me, then that triumph would taste like ashes.

“My name is Iztac Ce Ehecatl, Your Majesty,” I insisted. “Tlacatecolotl and last emperor of Yohuachanca.”

“As is Cizin, fear of the gods.” Itzpapalotl gave me an impish look, the kind that an indulgent mother would give to a stubborn and foolish child. “Gods and men can bear many names and put on many faces when the need calls for it. One does not exclude another, no more than land and sky can walk alone. Remember that on your path to immortal glory.”

The Tzitzimīmeh started howling together in impatience, their vile roars resonating with the lament of the dead and the agony of the slaughtered. Their queen smiled reassuringly at them with lips oozing cold, unfeeling starlight. A new breeze rose around her and carried her flapping wings upward into the dark sky.

“Another slaughter awaits us, my children, but make yourself at home,” Itzpapalotl said with a light tone. Her hands briefly brushed against my hair and that of Mother, her fingers warmer than Smoke Mountain’s magma and yet chilling to the soul at the same time. “I shall watch your progress with great interest.”

The Tzitzimīmeh’s eyes shone brightly in the night, their bodies flashing like lightning. One by one they vanished in a pale glow and ascended upward to the sky where they became distant stars. The entire court left in less than a minute’s time with a symphony of screeches and screams, until only their queen remained. Itzpapalotl shimmered and transformed into a black wind that raced away across Tamōhuānchān’s ghastly countryside. Storms and lightning wracked this cursed land in her wake until she disappeared into the darkness.

Mother and I stood in quiet contemplation for a while, each of us fearing the goddess’ return or the coming of another calamity. Only when the distant storms and lightning grew quiet did I break the silence.

“Our plan hasn’t changed,” I said firmly. I would confirm the truth of Itzpapalotl’s words by myself. “We pursue the morning star to Lord Quetzalcoatl’s abode.”

“Yes.” Mother scowled, her mind deep in thought. “However, you should work on your achievements before our audience.”

“My achievements?” I sneered at her. I required no spell to guess what she was thinking about. “Do you think sparing a few souls and some bribes in the mortal world would erase the countless corpses I stepped upon?”

“I have fooled Queen Mictecacihuatl once, and you can learn to do the same,” Mother pointed out. She waved her hand at the dust and ruins surrounding us. “The gods are mighty, but not infallible. This place wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

“And when Lord Quetzalcoatl realized his mistake, he wiped it clean with a hurricane,” I replied. Standing in Tlaloc’s presence and my encounter with King Mictlantecuhtli had taught me the futility of trying to deceive deities. They were too old to fool and only impressed by genuine bravery. Worst of all, I had the gut feeling that lying to Quetzalcoatl would only prove his assessment of me right and thus deny me any further chance to claim his embers. “Trickery won’t get us anywhere.”

“I do not say you should lie to him,” Mother argued. “Simply that you put on a show. This war of yours will provide ample opportunities for you to distinguish–”

“For me,” I cut in sharply, my voice heavy with disgust. “You will let me face the risks in the hope of reaping the rewards again, won’t you?”

“You are the one intent on delivering Xolotl’s message, are you not?” My rebuke caused Mother to glare back at me. “Feel free to disregard my advice and face the consequences.”

“Advice comes cheap when it costs you nothing,” I retorted while crossing my arms. “I am about to wage a war with a nation who hates and fears me. How do you expect me to clean up my reputation under such circumstances?”

“It is because you are at war with people who hate you that your mercy towards them will seem magnified,” Mother retorted cunningly. “Generosity means little to your own, and a great deal to those who do not expect it.”

I pondered Mother’s words. She had a point; while the Flower War campaign would likely involve a lot of cruelty, an emperor that proved merciful to his enemies ought to be remembered for it.

“I will meditate on this,” I said. I ought to consult my advisors, and Ingrid in particular. She always had impressive ideas when it came to presenting a good front to people.

Impressing Quetzalcoatl with the righteousness of my cause would require showing him that I could wield divine power with duty and responsibility. I had already made headways into shedding my current image as a tyrant and mad emperor, and the Flower War would indeed provide a few occasions to present myself as a magnanimous leader… if Sugey and the Apu Inkarri didn’t get in the way.

I’d dirtied my hands with rivers of blood to reach this place.

What would it take to wipe them off?