Blood & Fur

Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Price

My mind was exploding behind a face of stone.

My body froze like a deer sensing a hunter, each of my muscles tensing up tighter than ropes around a hanged man’s neck. My thoughts swirled inside my skull. A thousand worrying possibilities came up, though I had grown experienced enough to hide my concern under a mask of feigned confusion.

My first thought was: How could she have found Mother?

My second was: She’s lying.

But then I wondered if Iztacoatl was telling the truth, and if so, for what purpose; or if it was merely a lie, a tactical move meant to unbalance me, to throw me off my game, to paralyze me with confusion like I was right now, right this instant…

No, Iztac, stay calm. The White Snake was staring at me with her cold, reptilian eyes; scanning my gaze, studying my face, smelling my breath, waiting for a critical misstep. My shocked silence alone told too much. On the off-chance that she’s telling the truth, I have to feign surprise.

“My mother?” I repeated, both to fish for information and buy myself time to anchor myself in the present.

“Your mortal one,” Iztacoatl replied with a condescending look. “I know how close you were to Yoloxochitl, but most men require a mortal woman to give birth to them. You are no exception.”

“My mother abandoned me years ago,” I replied while doing my best to feign indifference. I couldn’t let her see any sign of distress.

“And as I’ve said, we’ve found her.” Iztacoatl laughed at me. “Your feelings are so painfully transparent, my beautiful songbird. ‘Is she lying to me? Is it all a trick to destabilize me?’ Why do you care so much, my dear?”

Damn it, I’d made a mistake. Merely showing surprise and tension already told her too much.

I closed my eyes, gathered my breath long enough to organize my thoughts, and then quickly settled on my strategy.

“Do what you want,” I said, my face shifting into an expression of regal disdain. “If you’re trying to use her against me, you’re wasting your time. I don’t care for a woman who would rather run away than raise me.”

Iztacoatl didn’t buy my lie. I could read it in her mocking eyes.

“Oh, Iztac, what a self-centered boy you make. Not everything is about you.” Iztacoatl tickled my cheek with her cold hand. “We intended to add her to the imperial harem years before we selected you as our puppet emperor. Your feelings towards her are irrelevant.”

I pushed her fingers away, much to her amusement. “Then why tell me?”

“Because I wanted to see your face when I did.” Her smug smirk made me want to punch her teeth out. “You are cute when you care.”

I snorted in disgust. “And what if I wanted to hang her?”

“Now, now, don’t be greedy.” Iztacoatl’s smile grew ever so threatening. “We have other uses in mind for her.”

The Nightlord leaned on the bed, her hands crawling on each side of me. No doubt she expected me to sink into the bed in fear. Instead, I remained resolute and imperturbable.

“You have shown extraordinary gifts beyond that of any emperor before you. You wield the spark of greatness. My sisters wondered if we should…” Her hand grazed my navel. “Focus it.”

I shivered in genuine nausea.

“Maybe we’ll have you breed with your mother to concentrate that unique bloodline of yours into a pure vessel, untainted by your father’s mediocrity,” Iztacoatl suggested. My blood boiled at the insult aimed at my family. “Or perhaps we’ll keep her for your successor’s pleasure. That woman offers so many possibilities.”

I wanted to vomit. “That is disgusting.”

“Come on, I’m sure it would excite you… the thrill of crossing a taboo forbidden to lesser men. Weren’t you practicing for it with your mother-in-law?” Then she went for the throat. “That’s why you are so fond of Nenetl too, isn’t it? It’s like kissing your mirror.”

I knew Iztacoatl was playing me. She was pressing her fingers in an open wound, trying to get a rise out of me. She pushed my boundaries the same way I did when I slapped her; she likely hoped that I would do it again, confirming that I harbored rebellion in my heart. Violence or threats would serve her well.

I had to confuse Iztacoatl. Counterattack in a way that she would never expect and yet still trouble her.

But how? The more time I wasted asking myself that, the less effective my response would be. I stared blankly at her smug face, thinking of any ideas I had to disturb her back.

One crossed my mind in a flash of lightning. Something that would take the wind out of her sails.

I remained silent an instant longer, then glanced around at the guards as if to check if others were listening in. My reaction surprised Iztacoatl, who didn’t react when I leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“I saw it in a dream,” I said, my voice soft like the morning breeze. “How your father will kill you.”

It was her turn to freeze in shock and surprise. She stared at me without a word, and I caught the briefest flash of fear in her gaze. Part of her knew that I was lying through my teeth, but she had seen me command her sire’s slaves, deliver prophecies, and perform miracles. I might be telling the truth, and it frightened her.

She knew that reacting with threats and violence would only showcase her weakness. The confident ruler didn’t let threats get to them; they instead let them slide off like waves on the eternal shore. So instead Iztacoatl quickly regained her composure and answered my warning with fake amusement.

“You forget,” she replied, “Whose property you are, songbird.”

Her lips pressed against mine before I could react.

Her flesh was softer than milk, yet colder than the coldest winter. A terrible chill overtook my body. My own burning Teyolia wavered in my chest, its flame suddenly weakened. Iztacoatl’s mouth was a gaping maw, a pit that sucked the air and warmth out of my lungs. I sensed her power, her hunger, her desire to drain me dry of my life and youth.

I couldn’t move an inch. Iztacoatl could have sucked the soul out of my body as easily as the Nightchildren consumed their victims. I gazed at the darkness inside Eztli whenever we made love, but it couldn’t compare to the pitch-black void festering inside a true Nightlord. A bottomless abyss hungered where her Teyolia should have been and it paralyzed me.

And to my horror, I didn’t want to move. A shiver of unearthly pleasure followed the revulsion. Her lips tasted better than any food and gave greater bliss than the act of sex. My soul fought back against my body, trying to force it to move away from Iztacoatl, but she refused to let me escape her icy grip.

It wasn’t a kiss of pleasure, warped affection, or anything so quaint. It was a serpent’s venomous kiss, which promised only death; the bite of a predator marking its meal. A contemptuous display of power.

Iztacoatl had found a weakness, and it delighted her.

Little warmth remained when her lips broke away. I shivered in the bed, my breath short and my body weaker than before. Iztacoatl licked her lips as if she had just finished a fine meal.

“Interesting,” she said. “Your sweat tastes like the sun.”

Thankfully, I was too disgusted and nauseous to show fear. “Try that again, and you may taste sulfur.”

“You make it sound like I should be afraid of him.” Iztacoatl smiled with all of her overbearing arrogance, though I still sensed the worry beneath it. “Neither of you will escape your respective cages. I shall see to it.”

Iztacoatl lost interest at this point and stepped away from the bed. I wiped away the taste of her lips on mine with my hand, much to her amusement.

“Put on your feather dress, songbird. Your home’s ruins await you.” Iztacoatl contemptuously scratched Itzili’s head on her way out of the room. My pet growled at her with hatred, though the guards kept him from biting the Nightlord as he wanted. “I will be sure to visit you tonight. I cannot wait to see your little family reunion.”

My fists clenched under my coverlet as I considered my options. I needed to visit the Reliquary. Ask my predecessors for advice, assess the situation, formulate a plan–

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Iztacoatl said, her words halting my thoughts. “The Reliquary will be closed to you from now on.”

My head snapped at her in surprise, which proved a terrible mistake. Iztacoatl chuckled in sinister glee.

“You were thinking of going there to lick your wounds, weren’t you?” She asked mockingly. “I’ll deny you that pleasure.”

“Why?” I could only rasp. Did she notice something suspicious back there in spite of all of my efforts?

“Because I’ve noticed something interesting about you humans. Whenever you are threatened by stress or danger, you must retreat to a sanctuary. A hideout where you feel safe from the world. No refuge is perfect, of course, but you need that delusion to feel a measure of peace.”

She sent me one last smile filled with fangs.

“Deep inside your heart, you never forget that you are our prey.”

The guards closed the door behind her, but I heard her laughter long after she left.

The imperial carriage prepared to depart for Acampa within the hour.

As befitting of an emperor’s historical tour of his dominion, I would travel with all of Yohuachanca’s might and splendor behind me. Hundreds of trihorn cavaliers, servants, musicians, priests, and warriors would escort me across my realm, carrying dozens of banners emblazoned with the Nightlords’ four symbols.

Since an emperor shouldn’t rest under a tent on the road, a trio of longnecks would form the core of a moving miniature palace. One of them would bring the imperial palanquin which once brought me to the Blood Pyramid, so that I may wave at my people whenever I visited their cities; the other two carried large, multi-tiers houses of wood that would house my consorts, harem, and guests.

Ingrid and Tayatzin, who had organized most of the expedition, proceeded to give me a brief rundown of these moving facilities; though I barely listened to either of them.

“As you can see, Your Majesty, each of these longneck houses carries two floors, one split on the animal’s sides and one on its back,” Ingrid explained. “These longnecks were specifically bred to carry heavy weights.”

These towering and serene beasts made for quite the impressive sight, and their loads had been intricately designed. The wooden buildings that they carried reminded me of a cross between small rustic mansions and treehouses, with balconies, windows, and staircases. Each of them sported amenities worthy of an emperor according to Ingrid, with bedchambers, drug rooms, and even baths created by clever architecture and plumbery.

Did Iztacoatl hide within one of these buildings? Would she travel deep inside one of these devices, her torpid corpse sealed in a coffin somewhere? My hopes were slim, but the idea of somehow dragging her into the sunlight gave me life.

“Each longneck can house around a dozen guests each,” Ingrid said. “I have taken the liberty of inviting our handmaidens and Lady Necahual to travel with my lord on the first longneck, and set a room apart on the second for Lady Zyanya and her future husband Tlaxcala. The other rooms can welcome any guest which strikes my lord’s fancy on the road.”

“I must remind Your Divine Majesty that the harem’s women are forbidden from associating with any males except your loyal eunuchs,” Tayatzin added. “As such, to avoid any risk of a daring male befitting your properties, your consorts and concubines will travel in a different longneck than the one carrying dignitaries.”

I hardly paid attention to their explanations. Ingrid and Tayatzin did their best to retain my attention, but all of my thoughts focused on my Mother and the danger threatening her.

“Time is the world-killer,” the wind whispered in my ear. “Night heralds the end of yours.”

And that damn breeze’s taunts didn’t help either.

Was Iztacoatl lying? Did she simply invent that story out of thin cloth after investigating my past and reaching the conclusion that my mother’s departure left a gaping hole in my heart? Did she assume that the unresolved nature of her disappearance would provide a method to pressure me?

It could be a trick for all I knew. Maybe Iztacoatl would introduce an impostor to me tonight; a woman with Mother’s face meant to exploit my compassion and then infiltrate my inner circle. I couldn’t put it beyond the White Snake to use such an elaborate trick.

I could be overthinking everything. But if Iztacoatl had indeed told me the truth, then how and why did she find a lead on Mother after failing to find her for years? The answer struck me like a bolt of lightning.

They’d found Mother because of me.

Father mentioned that Mother witnessed Smoke Mountain’s eruption. She saw Eztli and I escaping its flames, which meant that she had to be in the region a few weeks ago. A Nightkin could have seen her, investigated, and then reported her presumed location to Iztacoatl.

The Nightlord’s tale was credible.

But even if they truly knew Mother’s current location, could they capture her? I would have immediately known if they already had, and I descended from a mighty sorceress. No red-eyed priest nor warrior could hope to defeat Mother in battle. She would dismember them with the Doll, trick them with the Veil, and deflect attacks with the Cloak. Only the Nightlords and Nightkin could clip her wings.

Hence Iztacoatl’s mention of tonight. She intended to capture Mother herself come sunset, and she would likely succeed. Mother wouldn’t be so desperate to avoid the Nightlords’ notice if she could take them on.

But why warn me? To feed on my despair? I immediately concluded against it, for it would have been crueler and more effective to show me Mother in chains. The White Snake was too clever to give me the slightest chance of affecting an already decided outcome.

Unless…

Unless she wanted me to try?

She wants me to investigate, I realized. Or to contact Mother.

Mother was ultimately irrelevant to the Nightlords’ plan. Adding her to the harem would strengthen their horrific breeding system, but it would neither secure their ritual’s success nor strengthen their hold on Yohuachanca. They could easily ignore or kill her. It wouldn’t change anything about Iztacoatl’s plans.

I, meanwhile, represented an existential threat to the sisters’ regime. I, who had begun to build a power base and wielded power that they didn’t truly understand. Iztacoatl was too careful to act against me without gathering more information, so she designed this plot to tip my hand.

Did the First Emperor truly whisper prophecies in my ear? How deep did my spy network run? Who worked with me, who could be turned against me? Could I truly speak to animals and use them against my foes?

No matter how I responded to the crisis at hand, Iztacoatl would learn something about me. Even informing Mother in my sleep would tip her off that I had a way of communicating with others that didn’t leave any obvious trace. Depending on what information Iztacoatl had already gathered, this might lead her to uncover the existence of the Underworld.

What should I do?

“My lord?”

Ingrid’s voice drew me out of my thoughts. My head perked up at her, and I realized that both she and Tayatzin stared at me in embarrassment. They must have noticed me dozing off for a while and been too polite to interrupt me.

“I haven’t slept all too well,” I replied without apologizing, as it would show weakness. The lie came easily to me. “You have done well organizing this, Ingrid.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“My lord flatters me, and I am pained to hear of your sleeping troubles,” Ingrid replied with a smile that wasn’t entirely genuine. “I was asking if you wished us to bring any other concubines or pets from your menagerie with us?”

Her question sounded innocent enough, but the glance she sent me made me realize that she wasn’t only talking about our planned tour.

“Are all other preparations completed?” I asked.

Ingrid gave me a sharp, knowing nod. “We are only waiting for you, my lord.”

I immediately understood her hidden message: the stars had aligned when it came to destroying Yoloxochitl’s lab tonight. I only needed to do my part and do it fast.

How long would this window of opportunity remain open? I couldn’t deal with it both and the threat to Mother’s life at once.

I crossed my arms and pretended to think over Ingrid’s question. Iztacoatl would no doubt keep me under close observation today. Any action, no matter how subtle or inane, would be scrutinized. Casting a spell while awake was too risky, and calling upon my allies risked exposing them to danger.

I needed a smokescreen. A catspaw.

I was deep in thought when a priest approached Tayatzin and whispered in his ear. My attendant’s frown immediately worried me.

“What is the matter?” I asked with a scowl.

Tayatzin cleared his throat before answering. “Your Majesty, Lady Ingrid, I bear a message from the goddess herself. She insists that Lady Astrid join us on our journey to Zachilaa.”

Ingrid’s face drained of all colors in an instant. A pallid veil fell upon her, while my heart skipped a beat. My consort stared at me and immediately confirmed our common surprise.

“Why?” Ingrid inquired immediately, her poise and composure briefly shaken by the unspoken threat to her family. She immediately corrected her expression, though her voice lost some of her confidence. “Why would the goddess honor us so?”

“The goddess didn’t see fit to inform us of her reasons,” Tayatzin apologized. “Though she will no doubt find a use for Lady Astrid.”

A vision of Lady Sigrun’s blood staining the temple floor flared in my mind, closely followed by Fjor’s crimson gaze.

A similar thought must have crossed Ingrid’s mind too. She stared at me with a blank expression, searching my gaze for support and reassurance. I immediately grabbed her trembling hands and gripped them tightly.

I could hardly offer her more than warmth. My words would have sounded hollow. How could they not, when I was equally afraid myself?

First Mother and now Astrid. Was that a coincidence? A veiled threat to Ingrid that assisting me would cost her her sister’s life? Another attempt to put pressure on me?

Focus, Iztac. She’s making you overthink everything, and she isn’t even in your presence. My predecessors forewarned me that Iztacoatl would seek to destabilize me until I tripped up and made a fatal mistake. I can’t let her succeed.

A simple plan formed in my mind. Mother spent most of her time in the Underworld nowadays, so she was likely still asleep somewhere. I would pretend to be tired to nap during our trip to Acampa, conquer the fourth house of Xibalba if I had to, and then inform her of the threat.

All the while, I would cover my tracks with a misleading clue. A false hint that would distract Iztacoatl.

“Astrid will travel with us under my personal care,” I declared. Keeping her close might let me protect her from whatever fate Iztacoatl had in store for her. “Ensure that she will want for nothing.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Ingrid replied. My words and support, meager as it was, reassured her a bit.

“Meanwhile, my Necahual and the handmaidens shall satisfy my body’s needs,” I informed Tayatzin. “I will need songbirds to soothe my ears and a set of swift prey. It would be a shame to travel across the fair lands of Yohuachanca and not stain them with blood.”

Tayatzin raised an eyebrow. “Prey, Your Majesty?”

“My Itzili needs to gain a taste for battle, and I must practice trihorn riding,” I explained. “Hunts will both provide practice and entertainment, so you shall bring quarries that we can chase to our heart’s content.”

Iztacoatl already suspected that I could talk to animals and had somehow ordered Tetzon to spy on her on my behalf. Perhaps I could lean on this misinterpretation. That would help sell my Itzili distraction and provide an alternative. I would give Iztacoatl a bone to choke upon.

Once preparations were complete, I ascended to the second longneck’s back house. Its insides were as opulent as an emperor’s carriage would suggest, with thick layers of animal hides insulating its wood walls. A large and well-lit living room with jaguar fur rugs for a floor, a central table, and a separate bath for cleaning formed the upper floor’s core. Four bedrooms belonging to my consorts and their handmaidens surrounded it, and a fifth—the largest—belonged to me and was the one closest to the longneck’s head.

Ingrid and Tenoch arrived first, followed by Chikal and Lahun. The priests transported Eztli inside a closed coffin to protect her from the sun until nightfall, with Atziri taking care of her. The latter was frighteningly pale, though her neck wounds had vanished. Seeing her like this made me uneasy, but I kept my mouth shut. Necahual and Astrid followed closely after them. Nenetl arrived last with her own maid, whom I did not recognize. I truly needed to find her a companion I could make use of.

Thankfully, young Astrid proved quite enthusiastic about enjoying a longneck ride.

“Look, sister!” Astrid rejoiced upon finding a door to a balcony near the longneck’s tail. “We can see the walls from there!”

“Beware, young woman,” Necahual lightly chided her. As the only mother onboard the longneck, she understood how to handle children the best. “Do not move too close to the edge, lest you fall to your death.”

“Listen to Lady Necahual, Astrid,” Ingrid said, though her sister’s enthusiasm lit up her gloomy mood somehow. “You must behave once we leave the palace, so that you do not shame His Majesty.”

Her words were gentle enough, but they immediately turned Astrid’s smile into a gloomy face.

“I… I won’t.” Astrid looked at her feet. “I won’t disappoint him like… like our mother did.”

Ingrid flinched as if she’d been slapped, as did Necahual and I. Being reminded of Lady Sigrun remained a sore spot for all of us.

Of course she was happy to leave the palace, I thought. It stinks of her mother’s blood.

I did my best to lighten the mood.

“If you behave, Astrid, then I shall let you feed the longneck,” I said before patting Astrid’s head with my hand. “I may even allow you to ride my brave Itzili. A mount worthy of an emperor.”

“The feathered tyrant?” My suggestion lit up the flame of joy in Astrid’s heart. “He’s so fluffy.”

The suggestion amused Chikal enough for her to comment on it. “This child will look fearsome atop a feathered tyrant’s back.”

“She will,” Nenetl replied with a giggle as a maid began to serve breakfast in the living room. “Would you like to play tumi with us, Astrid? I could teach you the rules while we eat.”

“Enjoy yourselves,” I declared with a yawn. “I will recover my lost sleep this morning and join you in the afternoon.”

Ingrid joined her hands together. “We should reach Acampa by then, my lord. Will you need a song to help you sleep?”

She wanted to speak with me in private, and I quickly indulged her. “I would appreciate your company, Ingrid.”

I took Ingrid’s hand in mine and gently led her inside my sumptuously appointed bedroom. Though very small compared to my palace’s quarters, it was better polished and adorned than the rest of the longneck house. A bear fur rug lay before a large bed with a cotton coverlet, next to a desk for work and a small space for Itzili the Younger to sleep on. A birdcage holding a great-tailed grackle hung from the ceiling next to an open window. The songbird’s sweet, tinkling notes echoed through the room.

I didn’t see any snake hidden under the rug, but I bet Iztacoatl had means of spying on anything happening within these walls.

“My lord looks very troubled today,” Ingrid said. “What concerns you so much?”

She probably thought that I was worried about tonight’s operation. And I was, in a way. I hoped that I could inform Mother without wasting a precious opportunity to destroy Yoloxochitl’s garden and wipe her twisted legacy off from the face of the earth.

“It has been so long since I left my home village,” I replied upon examining the birdcage. The crackle briefly stopped singing when I approached, but quickly returned to its chatter. It had grown used to the presence of man. “I do not relish the thought of visiting its ruins.”

“I see, though I will not pretend to understand.” Ingrid stared at the palace through the window. “I have never seen the world beyond these walls.”

“Are you afraid of what lies outside?”

“Not at all.” Ingrid crossed her arms and gazed at the sun. “I wanted to see Winland once, a long time ago. Mother said it is covered in ice and snow at this time of the year.”

“We could visit the mountains on our way to Zachilaa, if you’d like,” I suggested. “Some of them are blanketed in snow during the Crocodile Month.”

Ingrid briefly turned to smile at me without a word. Her lips didn’t reach the eyes.

I cursed my lack of wits. Ingrid desperately needed a distraction and I couldn’t even provide her with good small talk.

Small tremors put an end to the awkward silence. The call of battle horns resonated outside alongside the beats of war drums and other instruments. Our longneck began to walk at a steady pace as our convoy finally began its journey west.

I didn’t join Ingrid at the window immediately. I first opened the grackle’s cage and then seized the bird with my hands. The poor animal stopped singing in fear and surprise, though it was too small to escape my grip.

Its feathers were so smooth and clean. All the animals in my menagerie had been pampered since the day of their birth. They never wanted food or care. Yet I wondered… if granted a chance to leave, would this bird take it or would it meekly return to its servitude?

Time to find out.

I whispered nonsense into the bird’s ear, so low none could hear it. If anyone did anyway, they would only listen to strange strings of words without context. The paranoid might mistake it for a code.

Afterward, I joined Ingrid at the window. Our longneck walked past the open gates of my palace. We left behind my own birdcage and entered the streets of the capital, where foolish crowds gathered to catch a glimpse of my imperial person. Their cheers and claps filled the air, generating the winds fueling my Cloak spell. The city’s buildings looked so small from so high above.

Ignoring my citizens, I instead stared at the cloudless sky and gently placed the grackle on the window sill. The bird stood there for an instant in confusion, its eyes darting from my person to the world outside. I wondered if, like Ingrid, it never saw anything outside its cage’s bars. Its simple mind quickly assessed its situation and the unique opportunity I’d offered it.

It turned to face the sun, then flew away without turning back. The grackle’s jet black wings dropped a few feathers as it escaped to the distant skies, carried away by the cheers of thousands.

In spite of all the danger ahead, the simple sight of this bird flying towards the sun filled my heart with hope.

“Why did my lord do that?” Ingrid asked with a look of surprise.

“Because every bird deserves to be free,” I replied. As we will be one day.

“True freedom is never granted,” the wind whispered in my ear. “It must be won by guile or strength for each day of life.”

Ingrid’s gaze trailed the grackle’s flight until it vanished beyond the capital’s walls. I leaned behind my consort and pulled my arms around her waist. She didn’t resist. “Ingrid–”

“Will Astrid survive this trip?” she whispered under her breath. Such was her concern that she didn’t bother with double meanings and hidden messages.

My grip tightened. “I will make sure she does,” I promised her. “One way or another.”

“Swear it.” Ingrid looked over my shoulders, her eyes wet. She was struggling to hold back tears of fear. “Swear it to me.”

My jaw clenched. If I fulfilled her demand, then Iztacoatl would cruelly do everything in her power to see that I broke my oath. She couldn’t resist the temptation. “Ingrid…”

“Swear it.” Her trembling hands gripped my arms, her nails sinking into my skin. “I need it.”

Ingrid had already seen one family member slain by the Nightlords and unknowingly lost another to them in another way. Astrid was the last of her kin, and the mere prospect of losing her sister terrified my consort.

Ingrid knew that my promise wouldn’t be worth much beyond the strength of my commitment; but it was better than nothing.

I didn’t have the strength to deny her wish.

“I swear,” I whispered in her ear, though I knew I would regret it.

I’d already promised I would do my best to defeat the Nightlords and protect her sister. I couldn’t guarantee Astrid’s safety, no matter how much I wanted to; but I would do my best to make that lie true.

“Thank you, Iztac.” Ingrid accepted my promise with a suppressed sob, then wiped the tears forming in her eyes with her finger. “Can I stay with you? For a time?”

“You can stay as long as you wish, Ingrid.” I lightly kissed her on the cheek. Her skin tasted of salt and stillborn tears. “I’m here for you.”

Ingrid’s hand held onto my arms, while her head turned to face mine. Unlike Iztacoatl, her lips were as wet as the kiss was clumsy. It tasted of anxiety, weakness, and of a desperate hunger for human warmth. The same kind that animated me.

We both needed an escape from our fears.

I began to kiss her neckline, her skin shuddering lightly at the contact of my lips. One of her hands seized my hair while the other traveled down my imperial robes in search of my manhood.

“Everything will be fine,” I promised Ingrid as I lured her to the bed. “Don’t worry.”

We both knew it was a lie, but we wished to believe it nonetheless.

I woke up at the crossroads.

Four doors surrounded me, each of them breathing a pale miasma onto Xibalba’s streets. I ignored them and instead called upon the Doll. Talons of darkness tore out the stones under my feet and dug up at lightning speed.

I only found dirt.

The hole that I used to access Mother’s home a few nights ago had disappeared. The path was closed. I expected as much, but it still frustrated me.

I moved on to my next plan: casting the Ride spell on Mother herself. Although my magic would likely fail to affect her, she would likely detect my attempt to possess her and hopefully investigate. If it somehow worked against the odds, then I would write her a message.

I carved Mother’s name on my bones and expanded my consciousness upward into the waking world, searching for her mind and soul in a sea of darkness. My spirit searched a trail to its destination. A few paths opened to me, each pointing to a different Ichtaca. I focused on the unbreakable bonds that bound us together; our kinship in blood and sorcery.

All paths vanished in thick shadows.

The Ride spell had failed.

I returned to the Underworld dejected. Mother was either still sleeping or she had somehow protected herself against possession. This plan wouldn’t work.

With few other options left, I used my dark talons to carve out a brief message on the stone warning Mother of the plot against her.

This is a message from your son: Iztacoatl knows where you are and intends to hunt you down. Run and hide before sunset. I will do my best to delay her.

On the off chance that Mother visited this spot in her sleep, then she should hopefully panic and realize the danger threatening her.

So far so good. I faced the nearest fog gate next. I hope I can complete the trial in time.

I mustered my courage and resolve, then stepped through the mist on my way to the fourth house of Xibalba. Purple vapors coiled and enveloped me, shrouding my sight and overwhelming my mouth with the sick taste of rot. Whatever awaited me, I would beat it. I would win.

I stepped on ancient dirt under a gray sky. The mist slowly cleared, revealing a small plaza of overturned stones and crumbling archways. A simple message was crudely carved on the floor in modern Yohuachancan.

Mine.

No.

No, no, no, that was a trick. I had stepped into a house of lies and been deceived. The Lords of Terror overseeing this trial had to embody the fear of jokes and trickery.

I activated the Gaze spell to pierce through any illusion and found none. I then hastily stepped under the archway to my right, wading through thick fog and fighting the gnawing unease rising inside my heart. My footsteps echoed through the mist and into the crossroads beyond.

My own message now felt like a cruel taunt.

At my wits’ end, I immediately shaped four skulls with the Legion spell and imbued them with my power. I then threw them through a different door each.

All of them rolled back into the crossroads, much to my horror.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, my predecessors?” I asked in disbelief.

“We fear that they do not,” they replied with grim consternation. “The doors are barred.”

The Fourth House was closed to me.

Half expecting the path to have changed, I quickly shapeshifted into an owl and attempted to fly out of this four-faced open prison. I flapped my wings with enough strength to whip up a storm and hardly moved an inch. Xibalba’s magic refused to let me escape this trap.

“Why?” I pondered in disbelief upon landing back on the ground amidst my predecessors’ skulls. “Why can’t I progress?”

The city deigned to answer me. A sinister sound reverberated across its dead gray streets and walls of wicked fog.

A cruel cackle.

I finally figured it out.

Xibalba fed on the fear and nightmares of humanity, including mine. The city denied me entrance to the next house so it could dine on my dread and tension. The path to Mother’s sanctuary would remain closed to me.

“No…” I struck the nearest archway with enough strength to crack its stones. “Stop mocking me!”

The cackle only grew louder.

“Calm down, our successor,” the skulls spoke as one. “We still have time and options.”

“Which ones?” I snapped back. “Which ones?!”

I couldn’t focus. Doubt and paranoia overwhelmed me as I examined various possibilities and rejected each of them.

If I asked the priests where Mother was, not only would Iztacoatl force them into silence, but it would be tantamount to confirming that her capture would indeed help the Nightlords pressure me further.

Should I ask Ingrid and Necahual to investigate on my behalf? I immediately decided against it. Not only did I doubt that they would discover much now that we’d left the palace and most of our spy network behind, but it would also alert Iztacoatl. She would mark anyone caught helping us for death and Astrid’s head would roll first.

What other options did I have? Seidr would let me assess Mother’s location, but not contact her. She might hole up in a coffin in the middle of nowhere for all I knew. Should I cast the Augury instead? No, no, what if Iztacoatl used magic to observe me? What if she picked the slightest hint of sorcery?

If only Mother’s disastrous first impression had convinced my predecessors to leave a skull in her house, then they could have warned her. But no, she couldn’t make things easy for us!

If only I’d had time… time to plan and figure things out…

“Will you let the White Snake’s whispers torment you so easily?” the Parliament of Skulls asked sternly. “This is unlike you, Iztac Ce Ehecatl.”

Yes, it was. I hadn’t reacted this way since the Jaguar Woman forced me to choose whom between Sigrun and Necahual would perish. I tried to tell myself that I only felt that way because Mother was my main supporter in the Underworld, but the concern overwhelming me ran deeper. It was instinctual.

Could part of me possibly care for her safety?

Now I understand how Eztli and Ingrid felt when they brought their mothers to the altar. It was a disquieting thing to see one’s family threatened with death and worse. Father will never forgive me if I let the Nightlords capture her either.

What would happen to him and Mother’s other captured souls if anything happened to her? Would Xibalba let them go? Somehow I found it more likely that they would suffer at the Lords of Terror’s cruel whims without protection.

“What about the Cloak?” my predecessors suggested. “If the Ehecatl is the wind that protects, then you may call upon it to shield Lady Ichtaca from incoming danger.”

I had little to lose, so I decided to try it out. The Ehecatl answered the call of my Cloak spell in an instant. The praises of my citizens swirled around me in a mighty current stronger than Xibalba’s malicious air.

“Oh great Ehecatl, can you warn my mother of Iztacoatl’s threat?” I pleaded with the wind. “Do so, and I shall bless a hundred souls in need.”

A chorus of voices answered my plea.

“Glory to our emperor!” They sang. “Please protect us, oh Godspeaker!” “May thou be blessed for bringing the dawn!”

My plea fell on deaf ears, and I quickly understood why.

The Cloak summoned words of gratitude into a mighty shield of air. Mother harnessed general prayers without a specific target in mind, while I gathered the praise of millions. And there lay its weakness.

The spell only worked one way. It brought the wind to the spellcaster, but wouldn’t allow them to send a message outward. Unless Mother cast the Cloak spell on her own, any word I sent her way would never find its way to her.

But there was another wind I could call upon. One with malicious intelligence and that would easily blow in this den of nightmares. A force born of curses that kept intruding upon my thoughts without my authorization.

What did it cost to question it?

I canceled the Cloak and bit my hand until my burning blood dropped onto Xibalba’s floor. I cast the Augury, dedicating my blood to the darkest of winds.

“Yaotzin,” I whispered. “Should you warn my Mother of the danger that threatens her before sundown and help her avoid it, then I shall reveal to you Yohuachanca’s most sinister secret: the fate of the emperors’ sons.”

A grim gust answered my declaration: one that did not banish the miasma-ridden air of Xibalba, but instead fed on it. It swirled around me like a black whirlpool and answered my offer in my own voice.

“Secrets alone cannot purchase a life,” the wind replied. “A greater price you must pay for this service.”

I shuddered in anticipation. A cruel merchant always extracted a heavy toll from desperate souls. “State your terms.”

“The last breaths of a hundred human beings, delivered before the Wind Month’s first dawn.”

The Yaotzin had heard my proposal to the Ehecatl wind and twisted it to its needs.

I pondered the offer before glancing at my predecessors’ skulls. The previous emperors stayed true to their promise of treating me as an equal by remaining silent as ancient stones. The decision would be mine alone.

Once upon a time, my first instinct was to refuse the proposal outright, for I had shed enough innocent blood as it was.

Months of trials and cruelty had beaten that naivety out of me.

I instead assessed the proposal with the cold rationality of my current situation. I put in the balance the odds of a hundred souls perishing now against the tragedies that would befall millions if I failed to destroy the Nightlords; an objective that Mother’s support would make easier to achieve.

I recalled the Jaguar Woman’s ‘lesson’ back in my palace’s temple: human life had value, but it was up to the emperor to determine it.

“I refuse.”

My words echoed at the crossroads, followed by a deep inspiration as I carefully chose my next words.

“That’s not enough,” I declared. “I want more for this price.”

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