Blood & Fur

Chapter Forty-Six: The Land of Beasts

I entered Nenetl’s quarters well and truly exhausted.

Between my intense training, the promenade with Ingrid, and fulfilling my promise to Chikal, I wanted nothing more than to sit down somewhere and fade away into a deep sleep. Even the Underworld would prove a relief from my body’s tiredness. I just came straight out of a bath and I wanted nothing more than to go back into it.

At least the smell of incense and homely chocolate coming from Nenetl’s chambers warmed my heart. It had been weeks since the tablet incident, but her apartment hadn’t changed much since. It was still the same chaotic mess of a hall filled with board games, food shelves, and a wealth of bizarre trinkets gathered from all corners of the known world. I suppressed a brief wave of shame when I looked at the spot where the Sapa tablet used to stand. The palace staff had done a fine job repairing the damage I had caused back then and removed any trace of the artifact. It was as if it had never been there at all.

I noticed a few changes from my last visit, however. A new shelf creaked under the weight of scrolls and other official documents bearing the imperial seal. Half a dozen turquoise amulets and obsidian statuettes representing various animals were spread across the room; I counted jaguars, feathered-serpents, and winged wolves among them. The hall’s brasero burned herbs and incense so powerful that their scent almost covered the smell of chocolate coming from the kitchen.

Something about them bothered me. The acrid odor made me slightly nauseous.

“Greeting, Iztac,” Nenetl welcomed me while wearing an elegant blue quechquemitl garment and a white shawl. She walked out of the kitchen with a platter of chocolate delights and a warm smile on her face. “I hope your training went well.”

“I am,” I replied while sitting at her table. A pile of paper covered it, alongside a Patolli board. “Thank you for asking.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I, uh…” Nenetl looked at me with worry in her eyes. “I heard you were attacked by a snake this afternoon.”

“It was nothing,” I reassured her. News traveled so quickly in the palace. “My good guards defended me before it could try to bite Ingrid.”

I had half-considered having Iztacoatl’s snake spy turned into a sash or a bag as an additional insult, but I doubted the Nightlord would take it well. Moreover, she was likely to visit her wrath on Ingrid rather than myself.

No matter. I was slowly making progress in widening my conspiracy; my life would become much easier with Ingrid’s support. Only Nenetl remained oblivious to it among my consorts.

Should I tell her? I studied Nenetl for a moment before quickly deciding otherwise. She seems incapable of keeping a secret, and the more people I welcome into my inner circle, the harder it will be to stay beneath the Nightlords’ notice.

Chikal and Ingrid were both talented politicians and Eztli was naturally cunning, while Nenetl was both innocent and terribly naïve. She had no appetite for plotting nor the skills required for long-term deceit.

And maybe that explained why I appreciated her company so much. A candid friend’s company felt deeply refreshing when surrounded by spies and enemies. She let me enjoy moments of normalcy.

“That is great,” Nenetl replied with a gentle smile. She sat next to me and offered me a chocolate cake, alongside a warm honeyed cup of llama milk. “I’ve tried a new seasoning. I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” I replied kindly. “I do wonder why you serve me yourself. I understand that you might enjoy cooking your own meals, but I haven’t seen you with any maids.”

“I have a few handmaidens, but…” Nenetl bit her lower lip. “I don’t like having them around.”

“Do you want me to replace them?” That would prove a good opportunity to select a handmaiden intermediary.

“No, no, it’s… it’s not like that, they’re all nice, but…” Nenetl cleared her throat. “I feel like they all want something from me, and it puts me ill at ease.”

“You are my consort, of course they want to earn your favor.” I sipped from my cup and then found myself unable to stop. What a delightful blend of spice and milk. “But I can understand how it would bother you. All their smiles and flattery must feel awfully fake.”

“Yes. Yes, they do.” Nenetl joined her hands together and looked at the food plate. “How do you deal with it, Iztac?”

By exploiting my would-be sycophants. “I try to look for the best in people,” I replied with a shrug. “Even if someone starts being nice to me because they want a favor, they might become a genuine friend over time.”

“Like Ingrid?” Nenetl asked with surprising insight.

I noded back. How sharp of her to notice. “Like Ingrid. No matter how our relationship started, I feel like we have grown closer since.”

“You are,” Nenetl confirmed, her cheeks turning pinkish. “I think she is in love with you.”

Love?

Such a heavy word. I loved Eztli, or I believed so at least. I would gladly die if it meant saving her. Did Ingrid feel that way for me? Somehow I doubted it. She might consider me a friend, but if she had to choose between her sister and me, I knew which one she would choose. And I wouldn’t blame her for putting her family first either.

I suddenly realized that I hadn’t answered Nenetl yet. I must have pondered her words for too long.

“Anyway,” I said, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “What is the purpose of all these amulets?”

“They, uh, they ward away evil spirits,” Nenetl explained shyly. “The incense too. It’s made from sacred copal resin.”

Oh? Did the owl inside me dislike them? Neither the amulets nor incense bothered me enough to leave, so I might simply dislike the smell. In any case, I was less bothered by either of these measures than the reason why Nenetl chose to use them at all.

“You wish to avoid another Sapa attack, don’t you?” I guessed.

Her small, anxious nod filled my heart with shame and guilt. I knew her worries were unwarranted—having planned the attack myself—but the incident had clearly left scars; both in her mind and her flesh.

Worse, I came to worsen the latter. This conversation had given me the perfect opportunity to pursue my true objective without arousing suspicion.

“I’m sorry,” Nenetl apologized. “I know you came to discuss the eruption and the repair efforts, and here I distract you with–”

I interrupted her. “If you don’t mind, Nenetl, then I would like to see your back.”

She froze in place. “My back?”

“Yes.” I powered through my distaste and tried to ask gently. “I wish to examine your tattoo, if you will allow me.”

Nenetl’s skin turned even paler somehow, all colors drained from her cheeks. I was about to change my mind when her hands weakly moved to remove her shawl and the skirt underneath.

I began to regret my demand halfway through. “You don’t have to show me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It is fine,” Nenetl lied, poorly. “I… I don’t mind. You already saw it, after all.”

She turned her back on me, and the painted wolf on her skin glared back at me.

No matter how many times I looked at it, I would never get used to Nenetl’s horrible tattoo. The Jaguar Woman had outdone herself in her cruelty. Her creation was so vivid, so lifelike, that the sight of it filled me with nausea. The painted beast representing Nenetl’s soul struggled against black chains ripping its spirit apart.

I briefly imagined a black owl in the silver wolf’s place, bound and broken. I would likely bear the same markings should the Nightlords ever discover my true nature. They had already put chains around my soul, scaring my flesh wouldn’t bother them.

“Can I…” I cleared my throat. My reluctance wasn’t feigned in the slightest. “Can I touch it?”

Nenetl’s cheeks turned scarlet. “If… if you want…”

After a moment’s hesitation, I put a hand on her back. Nenetl’s skin was as warm as Eztli’s was cold, and smoother than Chikal’s or even Ingrid’s. My consort gasped softly at my touch, but didn’t pull away from it. I traced a line along the painted wolf’s chains. If only I could snap them with a twitch of my fingers.

Instead, I intended to strengthen them.

Subtly activating my Bonecraft spell, I proceeded to have my fingerbone imperceptibly pierce my thumb’s skin from below; just enough to draw a tiny drop of my burning blood. I then used the Veil to hide it from sight.

Nenetl let out a startled sound when my blood touched her tattoo. I sensed a few gazes sent our way from inside the walls thanks to my Veil, but thankfully none with a direct view of Nenetl’s back.

“Is something wrong?” I asked while feigning surprise. I hated myself for lying to her.

“No, no, don’t worry,” Nenetl apologized as if it was her fault. “Your fingers are so warm, that’s all. I’m… I’m not used to it.”

“I am sorry,” I replied. For so many things. “It won’t be long.”

I loathed what I was doing. My work tonight was no different than what the Jaguar Woman had put Nenetl through after the tablet incident. I was marking another human being—and worst of all, a fellow Nahualli—as my property.

Don’t think about it, Iztac. I suppressed my shame and focused on the task. It will be over before you know it.

I followed the Parliament of Skulls’ instructions by gently applying my blood at specific points in the tattoo; namely, its chains. The droplets merged with Nenetl’s skin without leaving a trace, and the blood mixed with the ink in an instant. I immediately sensed the invisible connection forming between my heart and the tattoo. The chains binding us resonated like instruments attuned to the same song.

To an outsider, it would seem as if I simply caressed my consort’s tattoo. In truth, I had subtly corrupted it with my Teyolia. The spell woven in its fabric allowed the Jaguar Woman to control Nenetl’s totem at will. Unknown to all, she now shared that power with me.

I could trigger Nenetl’s bestial transformation any time I wished with a simple thought. She was a bow whose arrow I could fire when most appropriate.

An overwhelming feeling of shame washed over me when that thought crossed my mind. I tried to tell myself that having already become a murderer, adding the crime of slavery wouldn’t change much. I failed to lie to myself.

I had done worse than exploit Nenetl’s pain. I betrayed her trust and turned her into an unknowing tool. I told myself that I would never have to activate this contingency if we proved lucky enough, and that I would remove it once I destroyed the Nightlords… but I supposed many slavers convinced themselves that they would eventually free their slaves. It helped soothe their guilty conscience.

Even if I fully intended to wipe away the tattoo in due time, it didn’t change the fact that I had become ruthless enough to contribute to its design. What did that say about me?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered under my breath.

Nenetl heard me and looked over her shoulder in confusion. “W-Why?”

“You carry this mark because of me.” In more ways than one. “If I hadn’t insisted on bringing in that tablet to our gaming night, you would never have been attacked. The goddesses wouldn’t have put this mark on you.”

“No, no, you… you don’t have to feel sorry. I don’t see this mark as a symbol of shame. I’m…” Nenetl fidgeted in place. “I’m… I’m proud of it.”

Her words took me aback. A surge of anger followed, quick and raw.

“Proud?” I repeated, gobsmacked. Proud of being branded like an animal? Proud of having her skin defiled against her will and her soul bound by chains forcing her into obedience? Proud of being enslaved?

“I…” Once pale pink, Nenetl’s cheeks now turned bright red. “I received this mark because I defended you from a monster. I know that sounds silly, but for me…”

Her embarrassed smile quelled the flames of my anger.

“It’s a sign I could protect you, Iztac,” she said with a small, anxious giggle. “Like a, um, like a war scar.”

She believed it from the bottom of her heart too. I could tell. Nenetl didn’t have an insincere bone in her body. For her, the pain and suffering of bearing this mark paled before the pride and joy of ‘rescuing’ me.

That I had never been in danger—and in fact plotted the attack—was beside the point. Nenetl had awakened her totem trying to protect me, and the cruelty the Nightlords rewarded her with didn’t make her regret it. From the way Nenetl spoke, she would have done it again if given the chance.

She doesn’t deserve to be here. I cursed the Jaguar Woman a thousand times for selecting such an innocent and kind-hearted girl as a consort. I have to get her out of this palace somehow.

Nenetl took my silence for distaste. “I sound ridiculous, don’t I?”

“No, not at all,” I reassured her. If anything, my respect for her had only grown. “Few warriors would have dared to fight a demon without weapons, yet you did. You are a brave girl, Nenetl.”

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“You make me blush,” Nenetl replied with a slight sigh. “But I’m relieved.”

“I’m sorry I forced you to show me this mark,” I apologized. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity. You can put your shawl back on.”

Nenetl’s hands moved to grab her clothes, but stopped halfway through the motion. Nenetl bit her lower lip without saying a word.

I frowned. “Nenetl?”

“I…” Nenetl clenched her fists and put them on her knees. She lowered her head to avoid my gaze, her breath short. “I…”

I had spent enough time around her to tell that she was mustering all of her courage to ask me something. I had a good idea of what was on her mind, but I waited for her to say it out loud out of respect. I didn’t wish to pressure or insult her with a misunderstanding.

“I wouldn’t mind if… if you…” Nenetl gulped and then let out a deep exhalation. “If you… if you… continued.”

She said the last word so quietly that I barely heard it, but hear it I did.

I wished she had asked me anything else. I was sorely tempted to indulge her, but I couldn’t. I struggled to look at her back without feeling shame.

“I can’t do that, Nenetl,” I said, pulling back my hands to my knees to avoid touching her skin. I might falter otherwise. “I’m sorry.”

Nenetl’s spine bent forward like a crumbling mountain. “You don’t like me,” she whispered, crestfallen. “It’s because of my hair and eyes… I remind you of our curse.”

“No, no, I didn’t say that,” I protested, before cursing myself for my foolishness. She had gathered all of her courage to ask me for something so intimate, pushing through a lifetime of insults and rejection to find the strength to, and I was snuffing out her hopes. “Do not put words in my mouth. You are beautiful, Nenetl.”

“Then… why?” Nenetl held back tears. “Why me and not the others?”

Because I betrayed you. Because I harmed you. Because I tightened your chains instead of loosening them.

I couldn’t bear to exploit her for my own pleasure after this.

“You are beautiful,” I repeated myself. “It is I who is ugly.”

“That’s wrong,” Nenetl protested with surprising vehemence. Of course she would defend another better than her own person. “I find you quite handsome.”

“On the inside,” I replied gloomily. “I am ugly on the inside.”

I looked at my fingers. The tiny hole through which my blood dripped had closed, but my hands still felt soiled. I had killed thousands, whether through the eruption and impressed an incarnation of human cruelty enough to skip her trial.

These blood-soaked hands could hold vampires and plotters easily enough, but not a flower as pure as Nenetl. I would be soiling the both of us.

Nenetl peeked over her shoulder to stare at me. Her pale eyes studied my expression, and I found it so unbearable that I started looking away. After a long, awkward silence, Nenetl wiped away her tears and put her shawl back on.

I was about to rise from my seat and leave the room when warm fingers closed on mine. When I dared to look at Nenetl again, I found her fully clothed and sitting in front of me. She stared straight into my eyes and forbade me to run away.

“Iztac,” she said, clutching my hands. “What torments you so much?”

How could she ask such a heavy question so innocently?

“When I see you… I see pain. A deep and terrible pain.” Nenetl gathered her soft breath. “I would like to soothe it, but I… I don’t know how, and I hate it.”

She radiated a warmth more soothing than a hearth’s fire. Her genuine concern melted away the barriers I had raised around my heart. I couldn’t explain it. Part of me knew that whatever I said, Nenetl would accept it without judgment. She would forgive anything I said and grant me absolution.

But I couldn’t be honest with her. I couldn’t confess my crimes in this hateful place. There were too many spies observing, and even if I covered up the truth somehow, Nenetl would be unable to keep it to herself.

Maybe I could do both? Lighten my burden in a way that would both deflect suspicions and throw Iztacoatl off her game? It sickened me to answer Nenetl’s honest concern with half-truths and manipulations, but it was the best I could give her.

“Smoke Mountain erupted because of me,” I confessed, phrasing my words carefully. “The goddesses asked me to create a Sulfur Sun. I did as they asked, but when we tried to raise the flame on Smoke Mountain, it didn’t ascend. I failed to light the new year.”

“Because of sabotage,” Nenetl said gently. If only she knew how right she was. “Like the tablet… the fault lies on the Sapa, not on your shoulders.”

“I should have noticed,” I replied. Or rather, I should have found another way. I wished the gods had been so merciful. “The First Emperor’s wrath fell upon us all because of my negligence and thousands paid the price. I planted the seed from which this disaster grew.”

“No, no, don’t say that.” Nenetl’s kind voice turned firm. “Not to others, and especially not to yourself.”

“You heard the First Emperor speak through me at the Blood Pyramid. He will speak through me again, I can tell.” Whether because I let him or because I would pretend to. “An age of disasters awaits us.”

“You cannot order the gods to change their mind, Iztac. All you can do is speak for them.” Her hands squeezed me more tightly. “Do not ever say that it is your fault. It is not your fault if the sun rises or the rain falls. It simply happens.”

Nenetl fidgeted in place as she sought her words. “We didn’t choose to be born the way we were,” she finally said. “The gods decided for us. The best we can do is… it is to bear our misfortune and make the best use of the few gifts they gave us.”

The gifts that the gods gave us?

I knew she meant our ‘curse’ about being born as Nahualli. I didn’t choose to be born a Tlacatecolotl, no more than Nenetl decided to transform into a wolf when necessity called for it. Our fate was decided the moment we came into this cruel world. The Nightlords had chosen me as their sacrificial emperor based on the stars, and I had gone against the destiny that they had decided for me with the spells I learned from true deities.

Could I truly blame myself for the death I had sown in my wake? I was simply making use of the gifts and tools that fate handed to me. If the true gods had been kinder, they would have given me the strength to strike down the Nightlords without harming anyone else. Instead, they perished to light the Fifth Sun and left us to fend off for ourselves in the world that they had created.

Perhaps I was being too hard on myself. I played the best game I could with the weapons granted to me. If the heavens found it abhorrent, they would have given me better ones.

“You are beautiful, Nenetl; inside and out,” I told her with utmost sincerity. I felt lighter than before and my mind cleared of clouds. “I’m grateful for your kindness, more than you can imagine.”

Nenetl didn’t answer me, not with words. She didn’t need to. She simply smiled at me, without judgment or condemnation.

“I am not ready for… Not yet,” I said, unable to finish my sentence. Maybe not ever. “I can’t give you that.”

“It is all right,” Nenetl said with immense kindness. “We could… we could snuggle. Hold each other.” Her cheeks turned pink again. “If you want.”

“Yes,” I smiled at her. “I would like that.”

We ended up in bed soon after. Nenetl’s room proved as chaotic a place as the rest of her quarters, with a wealth of books by both bedsides. I completely forgot about the reconstruction projects, and I no longer cared by the time we slipped under the bed sheet.

“This, uh…” Nenetl exhaled as she nestled herself against my chest. “It’s my first time sharing a bed with a boy.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I reassured her. After a moment’s hesitation, I pulled my arms around her back and brought her closer to me. Nenetl put her head against my chest and leaned against me, her warm feet touching mine under the cotton blanket. “Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Nenetl giggled a bit. “It feels… nice.”

My heartbeat quickened. I sensed my heart-fire burning brighter in my chest. I briefly closed my eyes to better focus on it, and I found myself sensing another flame close to me.

My blood tainted Nenetl’s tattoo. Somehow, the link I had established let our Teyolias resonate; not with the depth of Seidr, but enough to give me a glimpse into her soul.

Nenetl held nothing back. She raised no defenses and needed no emotional coaxing to align her heart-fire to mine. She simply gave all of herself to me without reservations. Were we to practice Seidr tonight, I could have consumed her soul in the blink of an eye.

Nenetl trusted me unconditionally.

I sensed something warm on my cheeks.

Nenetl immediately noticed it. “Iztac, are you… are you crying?”

Yes, I was. I couldn’t hold back. It was stronger than me.

“I’m sorry,” I said while trying to wipe the tears away. Why? Why was I crying now, of all times? “I don’t know what has gotten into me.”

“It is all right to cry, Iztac.” Nenetl’s hand brought my head closer to her shoulder. She held me tightly, enveloping me with her warmth. “I’m here. You are safe. No one will hurt you.”

It was a lie, but one that I wanted to believe. I closed my eyes and let the sound of her soft heartbeat lull me into a deep slumber.

I woke up in a peaceful dream.

My eyes snapped open to the sight of a group of jackrabbits. The brown-furred hares looked at me with puzzled expressions and tilted heads, before fleeing when I chose to rise up. I found myself back in the same verdant land I had left last night: a vast expanse of trees and grass under a clear blue sky.

“How appropriate,” I muttered to myself upon rising to my feet. A deer grazing on the grass turned its head at me, and then returned to its meal soon after. “Such a nice and pleasant dream.”

One too good to be true.

Nenetl was killing me with kindness without her knowledge. Her gentleness addled my mind and poisoned my heart with weakness. She had deftly unlocked the chest where I buried all my fears and sorrow until they ran wild.

In another life, I would have been glad for it. But not tonight. I couldn’t lower my guard like this again. No matter how good it felt, or how much I enjoyed her company, the Nightlords would exploit any weakness on my part.

Still, I felt gratitude for Nenetl’s kindness. She was a gentle girl who deserved the best. I would repay her affection a thousand times over once I destroyed the Nightlords, and I wouldn’t let anyone harm her.

What happened in the daylight does not matter now, I told myself in an attempt to focus on the trial. The owl inside me remained eerily tense. My totem sensed something vile crawling under this paradise’s surface. This place is no sanctuary. It only looks like one.

My gut told me that I had entered another house of trials. Worse, Chamiaholom warned me that her fellow Lord of Terrors would show me no mercy. I couldn’t lower my guard.

I shapeshifted into an owl and took flight. A gentle breeze rolled over my feathers as my wings carried me above lush grasslands, and the noise of chittering birds filled my ears.

I failed to reach the clouds.

No matter how high I tried to fly, I could never rise a stone’s throw above the tallest trees. The same effect that prevented me from escaping Xibalba’s narrow streets applied to this strange domain. An invisible, impenetrable barrier kept me pinned down.

Flying did provide me with a clear view of the sky. I quickly realized that no sun shone upon this realm. Light came from above through the clouds, but I couldn’t identify its source. Very odd. Moreover, the landscape stretched as far as my eyes could see.

I landed on a tree’s branch and pondered what to do next. I could spend months looking for an exit without a map, if this place had borders at all. The Lords of Terror could control time and space within their domain. This land might go on forever for all I knew.

I haven’t been attacked yet either. That bothered me. Nothing about this place screamed terror to me. The previous two houses welcomed me with horrors lurking in the dark and a frost so chilling it cost me a toe. This one offered me peace and critters. Maybe this land truly represents my fear of happiness? It would be so appropriate after the time I spent with Nenetl.

I glanced at the land below me. A group of baby longnecks ate leaves near me without a care in the world. Their parent, a giant whose head towered above the trees the same way a mountain oversaw the hills, rested a hundred feet away. The sight took me aback. Didn’t that longneck fear predators preying on its young?

Predators.

The word rang in my head like a bell. I took a good look around me to confirm my suspicions. I saw squirrels in the trees and hares on the ground, alongside deers, trihorns, longnecks, and other critters. The few birds flying among the branches ignored insects and butterflies to gorge themselves on lush fruits.

All these animals were plant-eaters. I was surrounded by prey big and small, who happily enjoyed their life with no predator to hunt them.

I had spent most of my life in a village of farmers and hunters. I understood how the cycle of life worked. The grass-eaters were slain by predators so they wouldn’t grow too numerous, and when they perished, flesh-hunters became food for the earth. All creatures formed a chain of life and death.

So many herbivores would have scourged this land dry in days with no one to cull the herd. Yet this land overflowed with plants, trees, and flowers.

What kept their population in check?

The thought filled me with unease. There was something wrong with this place. A hidden danger that lurked beyond my sight and that might strike at any time.

I heard a thump sound below me, startling me. I glanced down at a bed of flowers on which a black bird had fallen. The poor animal let out a wheezing sound as it wriggled on the ground and spat out blood on nearby grass. None of the other animals appeared to pay it any mind.

What an ominous sign.

I took flight again and searched for any other landmarks. It took me a while, but I eventually noticed an anomaly in the landscape: an obsidian statue of a jaguar standing in the middle of a clearing and looking west. It was the only predator I had seen yet, and it didn’t seem in any hurry to move. I half-expected the jaguar to come to life and found myself disappointed when it didn’t.

Could it be an indicator of some sort? Following the jaguar’s gaze, I flew westward and quickly saw my intuition confirmed. Another jaguar statue awaited me, its eyes looking north. I wondered where this trail would lead me. What can catch a stone predator’s eyes?

I was flying towards my next destination when I heard a rattle in the wind.

“Rah… rah…”

I briefly stop to glance at its source: a stag wheezing under the shadow of a tree. The animal coughed blood on the grass while struggling to breathe. Its mate and its two fawns watched the animal’s agony, yelping and crying in fear. They knew their kindred suffered, but they didn’t understand why or how.

I did. The stag suffered from the same symptoms as the bird earlier. I quickly suspected its likely source and shivered at the thought.

A disease.

A plague.

No wonder the owl inside me grew tense the moment I entered this place. The enemy was all around me, invisible and undetectable. My Gaze spell revealed nothing special about the stag, even as it began convulsing on the ground in atrocious pain. I was tempted to grant it a quick death and free it from its agony, but I dared not approach any closer lest I catch whatever was killing it.

Could a disease affect a Tlacatecolotl? I felt no pain nor urge to spit blood for now, so I might resist whatever plague had infected these animals. That, or I hadn’t been exposed to its source. Maybe the beasts of this land contracted it when they consumed foul water or ate poisoned fruits?

The more I tried to reassure myself, the less I succeeded. I had seen what horrific plague Yoloxochitl could brew on the surface, and the Lords of Terror possessed dreadful magic. If they could command space and time, raise mountains of ice, or summon living animals in the depths of the Underworld, then they could easily create a disease that could infect a Tlacatecolotl.

The plague might already be taking hold of my flesh. The very thought filled me with nausea.

Worse, the Lords of Terror worked in pairs. If one represented the fear of disease and pestilence, what did its partner embody?

I decided to continue my journey before I learned that answer. Any second wasted might be one keeping the infection away.

I left the stag and its family behind me to travel north. I followed a narrow dirt path in between boughs of trees. The animal calls slowly softened as I advanced. I didn’t wonder why for long.

Their corpses littered the ground.

Birds, squirrels, insects, monkeys… countless small creatures lay inert on the ground, their teeth and beaks reddened by their own blood. A few continued to writhe and convulse, their eyes a dark shade of crimson, their veins bloating under their skin. I heard a strident fawn’s death cry resonate behind me, but it proved nearly as terrible as the sudden silence that followed. The blue sky was slowly taking a deep red shade and the clouds transformed into foul crimson blots.

The heavens were bleeding.

I flew until I finally reached a sinister clearing: a barren land devoid of grass and bordered by gnarled trees. In stark contrast with the rest of this beautiful land, an almost preternatural silence reigned over this place.

An otherworldly totem stood in the barren clearing’s center, a dark sovereign of old wood and fur surrounded by a grim court of skulls. Its silhouette reminded me of a macabre scarecrow, with its extended branches covered in a motley cloak of animal skins and scales. Bone ribs formed its chest, and a crown of horns made its head. An immense congregation of skulls greater than my predecessors gathered at its feet. I recognized the heads of men among them, alongside those of trihorns, hares, salamanders, birds, and all the animals of the earth and sky.

This figure exuded evil. The stench of death surrounded it like a cloud of smoke. I hesitated to approach it until I saw the letters carved into the skulls. Gathering my courage, I flew towards the totem and landed at its feet. A sentence was written in Yohuachanca’s language on the bones, clear and raw.

“Life is war, death is peace.”

I pondered those grim words when I sensed eyes watching my back. I slowly looked over my shoulder.

The stag from before had followed me, his mouth and hooves drenched in blood. It shocked me since I last saw him agonizing on the ground, but true terror struck me when I looked up at his horns.

The bisected corpse of a slaughtered fawn was impaled on them.

The father had killed the child.

I knew from hunters that deer could be dangerous, but never murderous. They killed to protect their young, or when mating season made them territorial. Otherwise, they avoided men like the plague. They were prey, not predators.

The creature in front of me was no longer a stag. A deer wouldn’t have pieces of flesh stuck between its teeth, nor bloodshot eyes full of rabid madness. It wanted to beat me, to shatter my skull under its hooves, to impale me the way it slew its own family, and then tear me to pieces. The beast wanted me dead with all of its heart, not because I was threatening it nor intruding upon its territory. It wanted me dead because I existed.

The stag let out a roar full of rage and the forest answered.

A vicious chorus filled the grim silence. A thousand beasts shrieked all at once. Trihorns, birds, hares, and countless creatures I did not recognize. An army of maddened, plagued animals shrieked in shared bloodlust.

The forest was coming for me.

I finally understood what other fear this place represented. The primal terror that haunted my ancestors when they lived in the wild and those who ventured into dark forests; the overwhelming horror that we humans tried to stave off through the safety our cities and numbers provided, but that returned whenever we found ourselves alone.

The fear of being hunted.

And in this house of killers, guests were the quarry.

I flew away with all of my strength, and the legions of madness chased after me.

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