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Blood & Fur Chapter 22: The Sulfur Sun
🕑 Added 2023-09-09 07:40:46 +0000 UTCPrevious Chapter
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The palace’s temple reeked of blood and tar.
I had come to expect the former from all the vampires’ creations, but the latter had come to surprise me. From the Nightlords’ dark abode at the center of my palace to their secret altars, every place of significance to these parasites’ false religion included at least one pool of the black, viscous substance.
A moat’s worth of that filth filled the palace’s temple, surrounding a hill of ashes standing tall under a black dome of obsidian. A large hole in the ceiling let the moon illuminate the room with its ephemeral light. Murals representing cosmic phenomena, from the dance of constellations to the rise of an eclipsed sun, adorned the sturdy wall. Rows after rows of stone benches filled the hall, with no one to sit upon them.
The temple’s true masters looked down on me from above. I felt their crimson eyes gaze upon me the moment I stepped alone into this unhallowed sanctuary. I looked up to match their glares.
A flock of Nightkin hung upside down from the ceiling, their talons sinking into the obsidian to lock them in place, their jet-black wings furled like mantles of darkness. I could hardly distinguish their numbers in the darkness. Dozens, maybe hundreds of them? Whatever the case, a court full of vampires had gathered to witness this ceremony.
“Come, Iztac,” an oh-so-familiar voice called out to me.
Yoloxochitl’s kindly whispers never failed to inspire dread.
I crossed a bridge of stone over the moat of tar and walked into the moonlight. Yoloxochitl awaited me at the ashen hill’s bottom alongside Eztli. I couldn’t tell how I managed to keep a blank expression when I saw them.
Yoloxochitl had lowered her robes just enough to reveal her naked chest. Eztli knelt in front of the Nightlord, her fangs biting into her left breast and suckling her vampiric progenitor’s sick black blood.
The scene might have seemed titillating to some, but not to me. Eztli’s sharp fangs pierced through her mistress’ skin deep enough to reach the swelling veins below, yet not a single drop trickled down. My consort’s eyes were lost in an expression of ultimate pleasure and satiation. She didn’t even notice my presence. Her hands tightly gripped Yoloxochitl’s breast, squeezing it, holding on to it. The more Eztli tasted the Nightlord’s blood, the thirstier she became. I almost thought she would chew out her flesh to make the process faster.
The thirst had overtaken her mind.
Yoloxochitl appeared to share in her brood’s pleasure too. She moaned and chuckled with each suction, her eyes closed, her tongue sticking out of her cursed mouth.
“Yes,” I heard her whisper, her hand gently caressing the back of Eztli’s head. “Yes, my daughter, feed on… If thou be thirsty, then drink…”
Another man might have found the scene arousing. I personally struggled not to vomit.
A lifetime ago, I had witnessed women breastfeeding their infant children on Acampa’s riverbank. The beautiful miracle of a mother nourishing the new life they had helped bring into this cruel world. The scene before my eyes was a mockery of this sacred human moment, a twisted reflection of reality cast on a cursed obsidian mirror. An ancient parasite feeding its ill-gotten blood to a stolen daughter. Necahual’s usurpation as a living mother, a reminder that Eztli’s life now belonged to another.
The fact I knew exactly how the Nightlord looked beneath her beautiful human mask only heightened my disgust.
“Mother Yoloxochitl,” I said, hoping reminding them of my presence would end this twisted union.
Thankfully, it did. Yoloxochitl smiled at me sweetly, then gently shooed Eztli away from her breast. My friend and consort whined like an animal denied its meal, but did not resist the Nightlord’s command. The bite marks she had left on Yoloxochitl’s breast closed instantaneously.
“Greet your husband properly, my daughter,” she commanded.
Sanity instantly returned to Eztli’s gaze. She blinked a few times, as if awakening from a pleasurable dream, then noticed my presence at last. The blissful smile on her lips swiftly faded, a flash of shame crossing her dilated eyes.
“Iztac,” she said, black blood dripping down her chin. “Sorry for the mess.”
She doesn’t like me seeing her like this, but vampires are compelled to obey their progenitor’s orders, I remembered to my own disgust. One night I shall free you.
“How does it feel?” I asked her, slightly afraid of the answer.
“Wonderful, Iztac. Like drinking the heavens themselves.” Eztli forced herself to smile for Yoloxochitl’s sake and licked the blackened blood on her face, consuming every last drop. “You should try it too.”
I know she only meant it to stay in the Nightlord’s good graces, but the very idea of sucking Yoloxochitl’s blood, of inviting any part of her into my body, repulsed me to my core. I loathed the thought of that parasite strengthening her already unbearable hold over my soul and body.
Yoloxochitl smiled kindly at Eztli before covering her breasts with her robes. “He cannot,” she said before turning her attention to me. “You cannot, Iztac.”
“Why is that?” I wondered while doing my best to hide my relief. Come to think of it, wouldn’t it have been easier for them to bind me this way the Nightlords bound their red-eyed priests?
“Your blood must stay pure,” the Nightlord replied calmly. “My sisters and I share a bond with you deeper than any familial tie. However, our union requires balance. The north cannot encroach on the south, nor the west on the east.”
The truth became clear to me. Beneath all the esoterism, the Nightlords simply didn’t want either of them to gain more power over whatever ritual bound my soul to their altar. They had ruled so long by sharing power and not vying over it.
I was almost tempted to drink Yoloxochitl’s blood and sow chaos between the sisters, but a mere glance at Eztli’s ecstatic, addled expression convinced me otherwise. To partake in a vampire’s blood would mean tightening my own chains.
“Moreover, while our blood would preserve you from time’s sway, it would also wither your loins,” Yoloxochitl said. “Your divine blood must keep flowing, my son.”
As always, I was nothing more than a breeding turkey. I was almost tempted to ask Yoloxochitl what happened to the previous emperors’ sons, to lift the veil of that particular mystery from my mind.
No, not yet, I told myself. Patience. I needed to build more trust beforehand, lest I arouse suspicion.
“What of my blood?” I asked cautiously, hiding my malice behind a mask of generosity. The very thought of letting a vampire feed on me disgusted me, but the Parliament of Skulls promised me that the fire in my veins would hurt them. “Would you partake in my blood if I offered it, Mother Yoloxochitl?”
Will you let my burning blood incinerate your veins from within? I thought. Will you bite my neck and partake in this poisoned meal?
“You are very kind, my child, but I must refuse,” Yoloxochitl replied, albeit with a hint of reluctance. I caught a brief flash of thirst and desire when she stared at my neck. “I am forbidden to taste your blood until the Scarlet Moon. There are laws that even I must obey.”
I had expected that answer, and did not push the subject further. Even if she decided to feed on my blood—a prospect that frightened me as much as I relished the thought of poisoning her—I lacked the strength to overpower her afterward. Feeding her my blood would weaken the Nightlord, but it would not destroy her.
I too would be patient. Yoloxochitl felt the thirst and fought back the hunger. She wanted to drink my blood, only holding herself back from fear of punishment; and when there was a will, there was a way. Forbidden pleasures possessed an allure that made them difficult to resist, and Yoloxochitl had proved herself to be deeply impulsive; enough to upset her sisters’ plans and go against their will by claiming Eztli as a Nightkin. She lacked the Jaguar Woman’s self-control. She would give in if properly pushed.
The Parliament of Skulls asked me to cultivate my relationship with Yoloxochitl until I could learn more about her fatal weapon. And I could go farther. I could lay the groundwork for her demise. Be the snake in the grass closing in for the fatal bite.
Vampirism had unbalanced Yoloxochitl’s mind and filled it with dark obsessions. Her madness followed a logic of its own. I had to play into it. To put a Veil on her deeper than any illusion, to slowly lower her mental defenses until she finally gave in. A seduction of a sort.
“Now, my son, give your mother a kiss,” the Nightlord said.
I dutifully obeyed, my lips touching her cold, lifeless cheek. Think of victory, I told myself, blocking the horrific memories of vines and claws erupting from under that pristine skin. Everything is permitted in the pursuit of victory.
“How was your training today?” Yoloxochitl asked as if she cared.
“We were told you performed admirably,” Eztli mused with a mischievous, malicious smirk. “Much to our dear Chikal’s appreciation.”
“I have heard that your amazon consort proved…” A flash of anger passed in Yoloxochitl’s eyes. “Rough.”
“She is a harsh teacher, but a fair one,” I argued, hoping to spare Chikal a deadly visit. “No man has become a great warrior from being coddled.”
“That is true, Iztac,” Yoloxochitl confirmed. “However, much like an eagle looks down upon turkeys struggling on the ground, an emperor stands above the petty indignities of battle. Your spear is an army, and your shield is a thousand protectors ready to die for you.”
“That may be so, Mother, but I remember you saying that our poor soldiers deserved comfort.” That was how she had justified trying to enslave Necahual not so long ago. “Seeing their emperor share their struggles will be like balm to their wounded hearts.”
“It is one thing to be bold, Iztac, and another to be wise,” Yoloxochitl declared with what could pass for wisdom. “Promise me not to endanger yourself, child. It wounds me to see you threatened.”
Then you should spare me the altar. Her terrible actions spoke louder than her empty words. “I have no doubt your benediction shall grant me victory,” I said, baiting her. “Though if I may ask… what is this great weapon that will turn the tide against the Sapa?”
“Patience, Iztac.” Yoloxochitl lightly stroked my cheek, as if to reprimand an overeager child. “Miracles must be seen, not heard. This flower shall bloom in due time. An emperor’s duties to his subjects pale before those he owes the heavens, and for now, a greater task awaits you.”
I nodded dutifully, suppressing a flash of anger. The time hadn’t come yet. “As Mother wishes.”
“Worry not, all your prayers shall eventually be answered.” Yoloxochitl waved a hand at the hill of ash, inviting me to look upon it. “The year cometh to an end, Iztac. As emperor, it is your duty to see that past afflictions and sins do not carry into the new cycle of the world.”
I looked up at the hill’s summit and caught a glimpse of a figure kneeling at its top, hands joined in prayer. A shiver went down my spine as I realized what ‘sin’ I would purge from this world.
A headless, desiccated corpse with a perfectly carved hole at the center of its chest towered high above me. Though its mummification had made him thinner, I immediately recognized to whom this husk once belonged to. Even in death and desecration, the Nightlords had clothed him like an emperor, with rich finery and golden filigranes.
I stared at the beheaded corpse of Nochtli the Fourteenth, whose skull had joined my reliquary.
I had witnessed my predecessor’s murder alongside the rest of the empire, watching in silent dread as the Nightlords carved his chest open and fed his heart to their sinister sire. Should I fail to defeat the sisters, my remains would one night stand atop this altar in silent desecration.
“These are the past emperors’ ashes.” Yoloxochitl’s hands settled on my shoulders, her nails sharp as an eagle’s talons. She loomed behind me like death’s shadow. “Much like my father before them, they too have suffered the penance of fire. While their skulls rest in the reliquary, their remains shall fuel the flames of a new year free of sins.”
I ought to throw you into the fire then, I thought. “I see no flame yet.”
“For you must light it with your own hands,” Yoloxochitl explained. “For the next four nights, you shall tend to it from sunset to sunrise. Feed it. Cherish it. Then, on the fifth day, you shall ascend to the top of the world and herald the dawn of a new year.”
“Sunset to sunrise?” My heart stopped. “I… forgive me, but I had planned for Ingrid and her mother to visit me tonight.”
And moreover, I had promised the Yaotzin a payment for the night. If I failed to deliver in time, I dreaded to imagine the resulting penalty.
“They shall await until dawn,” Eztli whispered into my ear. “Do not worry. I shall keep you company until then.”
“These next few days shall be trying, my child,” Yoloxochitl said, her tone gentle but firm. “But the cosmos demands it.”
I hadn’t expected this, nor been informed. Moreover, it would disrupt my journey to the Underworld. While I could catch up on some hours of sleep in the morning, my imperial agenda would force me to awaken early.
“Is this year different?” I asked, hiding my frustration behind a veil of curiosity. “I was not told that the ritual would take all night.”
“Every fifty-two years mark the beginning of a new celestial cycle,” Yoloxochitl replied. “This requires more effort on your part, for you do not inaugurate a new year alone. You shall shepherd in a new era for our empire.”
The last one, I hoped.
With few options left, I removed my sandals and began to ascend the mountain of ashes. Eztli followed behind me as my shadow. Whereas my feet soon turned gray from the remains of my burned predecessors, her own skin remained untouched.
A vampire climbing a dead mountain with none of their malice staining them, I thought. They felt terribly cold on my skin, without any warmth. How terribly appropriate for the current situation.
“Do you truly think there are only six hundred corpses beneath us?” Eztli sinisterly whispered into my ear. “Seems too few if you ask me.”
“Only the emperors are remembered,” I guessed as we continued our ascent. I had witnessed enough cremations that even the tallest of men hardly left a handful of ashes after death. To raise a hill would take countless thousands.
“I always wondered what happened to the flesh and bones of my dinners after I fulfilled my thirst.” Eztli dusted some of the ashes from her robes. Her skin might be spared from their clutches, but her clothes were not. “Do you think some of them are father’s?”
I stopped briefly and peeked at her from over my shoulder. Eztli returned my gaze with cold sad eyes. “I am serious,” she said. “I do not know what they did with his remains.”
While I was relieved she still showed some concern for Guatemoc’s corpse after killing him herself, I didn’t expect her to discuss the matter with such eerie calmness.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “And between us, I hope he’s not here. He deserves better than being trampled upon.”
Eztli looked away, hiding her thoughts from me. “I suppose…”
Once again, I found myself wondering how much of my old friend remained inside the vampire she had become… and if that spark of humanity would survive the allure of her undead sire’s blood.
Eztli smiled back at me. She knew me well enough to guess what was on my mind.
“Her blood does not affect me more than pulque does, Iztac. Though it does taste far better than any drink.” Eztli lightly kissed me on the neck, her lips still warm from the recent feast. “Unless you want me to breastfeed you mine?”
A chill traveled down my spine. “No, I don’t.”
“I’m joking, Iztac. You have mothers as it is.” Eztli’s smile faded. “I don’t like it.”
I snorted. “The breastfeeding?”
“The way you look at me,” she replied. “I would rather see you laugh with me than be sad for me.”
An awkward silence settled between us, and we continued our ascent without a word.
I struggled to understand Eztli’s behavior. I had the feeling she attempted to hide her pain and sorrow under a veil of wit and cruel humor, but no matter what she said I was certain these breastfeeding sessions ate away at her humanity. Pulque and alcohol drove men to madness if abused. A Nightlord’s blood drove their priests into slavish devotion. If Eztli consumed too much… she might completely fall under Yoloxochitl’s sway and reveal our treachery.
I had to find a way to break or subvert their budding blood bond. Perhaps I should feed Eztli the blood of the other Nightlords. This might dilute her particular enthrallment to Yoloxochitl… no, that would probably worsen things.
The First Emperor’s codices had to provide insight on the matter. He had sired the curse after all.
At long last we reached the top under the pale moonlight. I stood before Nochtli’s mummified remains in silent contemplation. A bundle of dry reeds lay within the open chest cavity, alongside a wood spindle and small bow meant to trigger a fire. I counted fifty-two of the former, one for each year of a solar cycle.
You stood in my place once, my predecessor, I thought. Was this the moment you decided to rebel? It did you no good, but I swear to the true gods, I shall avenge you and all of those who helped me climb to you.
With Eztli watching over my shoulder I aligned the spindle to the middle of the reeds, tied the bowstring around it, and then moved the small bow left and right. I knew the motions by heart. No man could reach adulthood without learning how to start a fire. The thought of burning the Nightlords to death gave me the strength to carry on with the task.
My resolve swiftly paid off. A spark ignited among the dry reeds, feeble yet alive. A flame grew within Nochtli the Fourteenth’s chest cavity, slowly consuming the reeds to grow in strength. Smoke arose from the beheaded corpse’s severed neck and moved up towards the hole in the ceiling.
“This takes me back,” Eztli mused. She raised her hands towards the newborn flame, her fingers touching it so close I worried she might catch fire herself. “I miss the warmth.”
“What’s next?” I asked. The reeds wouldn’t last all night.
“You will stay here to tend the fire, give it prayers, curses, confess your crimes, whatever you want.” Eztli shrugged. “Meanwhile, I shall come back and forth with old things to burn. Yours is the easy part.”
In short, she would resupply me while I wasted my time watching over the flame until sunrise. “Who will take over during the day?”
“Priests, I suppose?” Eztli shrugged. “This is all for show.”
The Parliament of Skulls thought the same. My predecessors never found what magical purpose, if any, this ritual served beyond its symbolism. Was this truly a trick of the mind meant to add weight to a false religion, or did it serve a higher purpose?
I meant to check for myself.
I peeked over my shoulder, the eyes of the Nightkin upon me while Yoloxochitl watched me from the hill’s feet. I cloaked myself in the Veil and felt the weight of their attention upon me. Thankfully, as Huehuecoyotl taught me, I gave them an illusion of what they expected of me: me staring at a small fire in silent contemplation. No tide of disbelief came to wash my magic away. The vampires had witnessed this scene play out time and time again for more than six hundred years.
So long as I did not turn the Gaze spell directly at them, they would not sense its radiance. Henceforth, I knelt before my predecessor’s remains and moved my face close to the budding fire.
Reveal your secrets to me, I thought as I activated my Gaze spell and stared into the newborn flame. If you keep any.
The sunlight of my heart poured through my eyes and illuminated the small flame my hands had brought into the world.
I saw nothing out of the ordinary. The light of my soul revealed no secret my own eyes couldn’t perceive before. This fire carried no magical power whatsoever.
This is all a fraud, I thought, unsurprised and yet still disappointed. Another lie atop a pyramid of falsehood.
I took a deep breath and I mentally prepared myself for the tiresome, pointless task ahead of me. The smoke filled my nostrils, followed by a terrible stench. I coughed in surprise and nausea, much to Eztli’s confusion.
“Are you well, Iztac?” she asked me softly.
“Do you smell that?” I asked her.
“Smell what?”
That terrible stench of rotten eggs and the smell of burning corpses. I could hardly inhale a whiff of smoke without wanting to vomit. It felt oh so familiar, though it took me a while to recognize it.
Sulfur.
Necahual and other women often used it in our village to chase away vermin after the harvest season. I had always disliked the smell of it. However, nothing could compare to the odious smoke rising from this flame.
Did the Nightlords put sulfur in with the reeds? I wondered, observing the blaze with renewed attention. I detected no such fuel. Does it come from the flame itself?
I gazed once more into the fire, searching with my eyes… until I saw it.
A black spot in the center. A blot of darkness in the light’s very heart. A small point no larger than a needle’s head, unchanging and unwavering.
The longer I stared at it, the stronger my heart pounded in my chest. Its beat echoed like a war drum in my head, a searing heat growing in my chest. The longer I stared at the blot, the harder it became to look away. Eztli’s words became distant whispers that my mind could no longer comprehend.
The nauseating stench of sulfur overwhelmed me like a tide. The fumes addled my mind and overwhelmed my senses in a nauseous flood of confusing sensations. The blot grew to encompass it, the seed of darkness blooming into an all-consuming night. Thick shadows as warm as blood swallowed the light of my Gaze spell, leaving me alone in the endless black.
A new flame arose from nothing when I thought myself bereft of radiance… yet this fire offered no comfort. It was blue and streaked with yellow, the poisonous inferno rising from the sulfur pits.
Something stared back at me. Something great and terrible.
A pressure as overwhelming as King Mictlantecuhtli’s judgment fell upon my soul; not the cosmic weight of death’s unfeeling gaze and the burden of eons past, but the primal fear of an endless night and the agony of bottomless hunger. I felt my lungs drowning in an ocean of blood and the piercing bites of a million screeching bats. I shared a thirst that no sea could ever hope to satiate, heard the call of a final feast of murdered stars, looked upon a crown of terror, and listened to the scream of a mountain of seared flesh burning in a boiling sulfur pit. I felt its terrible gaze flay my mortal skin and peek at the feeble fire within my chest, at the four leashes coiling around my soul and the withered hands holding them.
Great fangs sharper than obsidian towers flashed in the flame with indescribable fury and a tongue uttered a curse carrying the venom of transcendental hatred. A single word with the power to shatter stone, a fatal accusation, and a deadly prophecy of retribution to come.
T̸̟̩̪̳͍̰̮̈́̃̑͌̑̑͐͋͋̑̒͜ŕ̵̨̨̛̠͕̭̩̮̞̬̤̠͎̲̥͙̤͈̮̲̖̘͖͎̘̯̘̺̘͍̫̘͓͉̙̋͒̊͊͒́͂̾̃̐̾͂̄̅̈́̔̎͋̄̀͆͆͌̋̓̽̑͐̾̋͊̔̃́͗͘͜͜͜͠͝ͅà̸̡̨̬̜̱̞̤͓̥̼̰͕̗̜̘̹̻͕̪̗̐̈̌̾̒̃͗̇͂́͝͝i̷̧̧͚̰̩͖͕͕͔̱̞͓̤͚̥̗͕̝̬̞̻̲̺̺͂͆͆͑́̓̇̓͊̏̋̈́̋̃̉̈́̿̈́̕̕͠ͅt̸̨̨̛̖͇͍̯̜̲͙͔̗̫̰͇̼̟͗̀̾̔̔̎̐͂̾̏͜͠͝ͅơ̴̡̨͎͓̙̻̝͇̞̯̻͉̞̰̝͌͂̎̄̈́̓̄̏̅̌͑͌̓͆̇͗̅͐͐̃͌͆͋͋̈́͂̕͜͠r̸̞̱̖͇̯͚̹̼̼̫̱͍̼͕̭̳̂̊͆̈̒̒̀́̐̎́̽͑̾̑͛̇̕̕͝s̷̲̻̥̮̗̬̞͓̺̤̿̀͊̊͐͗̈́̔̅̓͗̂̕̚̕͘͝͠͠ͅ
By the time I canceled my Gaze spell and pulled back to reality, a concert of screeches and flapping wings filled the hall. A mighty wind blew on my face, sending a cloud of ashes flying in all directions; the cinders suddenly as hot as if they had been extracted from a freshly made fire.
The temple had descended into chaos. The Nightkin flock screamed above me. They flew through the hole in the ceiling like the bat swarm that they were. Eztli had gone still at my side, her skin paler than snow, her crimson eyes staring at Nochtli’s flaming heart with utter dread. She had frozen in place the way a rabbit froze when facing a jaguar’s presence.
The flame had turned blue.
Not the azure from Tlaloc’s sun, no, but the yellow-tainted blue flame born of sulfur pits. It had consumed the reeds and now glowed within the chest cavity without spreading further. No smoke rose from it, though its nauseating smell remained all-consuming.
“It finally happened,” Yoloxochitl’s voice whispered behind me. How did she climb the hill so silently? “After so many centuries… it has finally happened.”
Her cold hands coiled around me like snakes, one hand touching my chest, the other my belly. I felt the Nightlord lean against me, holding and fondling me like a prized pet. I thanked my instinct for canceling my spells in alarm before she could catch sight of them.
“Oh Iztac, you are wonderful.” She kissed me on the cheek and the neck, half like a mother happy with their child’s performance, half like a favored lover. It raised shivers on my skin all the same. “You are a blessed child, the holiest of rulers.”
I held my breath in silence. A terrible cold followed her proclamations, and three winged shadows descended from the ceiling from the same hole through which the Nightkins escaped. I could hardly distinguish them through the clouds of ash, and when they landed on the hill they had all taken back human forms. Eztli, having finally regained her senses, knelt instantly as three hooded, masked figures surrounded us.
They’re here, I thought, my blood running cold. They’ve answered the call.
The other Nightlords had joined their sisters to witness this strange miracle. They formed a circle around Nochtli’s remains, as if ready to tear him limb from limb again.
“I thought the chains broke, but this…” Sugey, the Bird of War, crossed her arms. Was that dread or joy that I saw in her trembling fingers? “This is it…”
Iztacoatl nodded in excitement. “The flame burns with smokeless sulfur. A sacred hunger that requires no sustenance.” She raised a hand, feverishly approaching the flame. “All the power we can drain from this…”
The Jaguar Woman angrily slapped her sister’s hand away from the fire.
“Restrain yourself,” she chided her sibling. “Those are favorable auspices, but fraught with peril.”
Chains? I wondered. Did they mean the chains around my soul? A few of their words drew my attention too. Drain? Not gain?
“I do not understand,” I whispered, fishing for information.
“Our Dark Father has blessed your divine rule, Iztac,” Yoloxochitl replied with motherly pride. “This age, your age, shall be one of blessed darkness and glory. Fifty-two years of terror await our enemies.”
“Our sister speaks true, Iztac Ce Ehecatl,” the Jaguar Woman said. The blue flame’s hue reflected in her exposed eyes. “Your term will be the most important since our empire’s foundation. Feed the flame, child. Feed it.”
“With what?” I rasped.
“Blood.” The Jaguar Woman turned to Eztli, her tone hasty and imperious. “Fetch him blood!”
—--------
I spent the night trying to douse that cursed flame.
If the Nightlords wanted it to burn, then it made sense for me to smother it in return. I had little luck with that.
First of all, the four sisters stood watch over their twisted prize. They observed my work with the zeal of taskmasters. I was only allowed to pour the cups of blood Eztli climbed the ashen mountain back and forth with.
The longer the night went on, the more I started to doubt that anything could extinguish this unnatural fire. It consumed blood and wood alike without leaving any waste. The fluids did not boil or turn to steam at its contact. They simply vanished into the blue fire.
The flame neither grew larger nor hotter no matter how much blood I fed it. I was filling a bottomless hole from which nothing escaped. My task appeared as pointless as it was mind-numbing.
“The dawn approaches,” Yoloxochitl said after many hours. “Go rest, my child. You have earned it.”
“We shall meet again at sundown,” the Jaguar Woman added. “Do not delay.”
I considered disobeying, but her tone implied that they would drag me to this place if I did. Whatever purpose this ritual served, the Nightlords considered it important enough to oversee personally.
I climbed down the ashen mountain with Eztli’s help. She had helped me transport bloody cups all night long without ever uttering a word. Her hollow gaze was empty of its usual mischief and bravery.
“Eztli?” I asked once we finally left the temple. I admit I found myself relieved to escape this place, though it was short-lived. My silent guards dutifully flanked me the moment I walked into the next corridor. “Eztli, are you well?”
My friend and consort suddenly seemed to remember my presence. “Do you remember that time we found a snake in the river, two years back?”
“Of course I do.” It had given her quite the scare then.
“That flame… It frightens me the same way, Iztac.” Eztli rubbed her arms with her hands. I had never seen her so scared since… since she had turned. “It wants to eat me. I can tell.”
“I won’t let it harm you,” I promised her.
At this moment, she gave me the strangest of looks. Despair, sorrow, and something I couldn’t quite understand. Something unbelievably sad.
“You are sweet, Iztac,” Eztli said softly, “But what makes you think I want you to?”
She vanished into the shadows before I could ask her what she meant.
“Eztli?” I called out to her, shaken by her response. “Eztli?”
Only my silent guards’ steps answered me. I was surrounded by armed men, and yet alone once again. Somehow, Eztli’s words frightened me as much as whatever terror the Nightlords brewed in that flame of theirs.
Tired as I was, I did not return to my chambers immediately. Instead, I went to the reliquary, officially to meditate, unofficially to consult with my predecessors.
The previous emperors’ skulls were already awake when I arrived, their empty shining with an eldritch glow. I took it as a dire warning. They had witnessed tonight’s events through our link, and found it concerning.
“What happened?” I asked immediately. “What was that?”
“Something that’s never happened before.” Six hundred skulls marked a short pause, their minds clearly struggling to understand what they had witnessed. “The flame has never turned blue since the New Fire Ceremony started, nor did the Nightlords show so much interest in its upkeep. This is unprecedented.”
A word that did not warm my heart. As for the creature I had witnessed in the fire… that glimpse into an abyss of absolute evil and hunger…
“That thing in the flame…” Remembering it alone caused my heartbeat to quicken. “Could it be…?”
“Mayhaps,” the Parliament replied. They had guessed the likely source of the power within. “Or maybe not. We cannot be certain yet.”
The previous emperors spoke with wisdom, but I sensed their fear beneath the caution. The four sisters were feeble shadows compared to that entity’s power and malice.
“There is another detail you should know, our successor,” the skulls said. “When the sulfur flame lit up, we sensed a surge of power rising from deep below the Blood Pyramid.”
“The Blood Pyramid?” I immediately thought of whatever horror took place there; something so terrible the Parliament would not speak of it. “Why?”
“It’s unclear as of now, but we can warrant a guess,” the Parliament said. “The ritual sacrifice of emperors to their progenitor imbues the Nightlords with magic. The New Fire Ceremony and the Scarlet Moon probably feed into each other somehow. A threshold of some kind has been crossed, whether from the weight of six hundred years of sorrow or because of some cosmic alignment.”
I supposed their mountain of ashes had grown big enough. “The Nightlords hope that this sulfur flame will strengthen them.”
“All the more reason to douse it, our successor. The quicker the better.”
“Douse it with what, water?” I replied dryly. “It consumes all that comes in contact with it. Neither will the Nightlords let me out of their sight.”
The skulls fell into the silent gloom. They had no more solutions to offer than I did.
For perhaps the first time since we formed an alliance, they were at a loss at what to do next. We had ventured into unknown territory where old wisdom could not help us.
I replayed tonight’s events in my mind, trying to grasp their significance. I was certain important details, if not overlooked, would prove key to our future victory.
The First Emperor still existed. The Nightlords feared his wrath, my soul was bound to his altar, and the vampire curse endured. Tales said he had become the new sun in the sky in a great act of benevolence and that without blood to sustain him, he would cast the universe into eternal darkness.
If… if the entity I had received a glimpse of was indeed the First Emperor, then he was indeed burning. Not in a sun’s heart though. I had witnessed a dead sun and tasted their embers. The flames consuming the First Emperor were of a different sort, their smell unmistakable.
A sulfur cage.
Neither did I feel any kindness or martyrdom coming from this dreadful vampire progenitor. I only tasted a sip of endless hate and bottomless hunger. No fire burned half as hot as that monster’s wrath. As for that final curse he uttered, not at me, but at the four parasites claiming to be his daughters and heirs…
Traitors. The word echoed in my head, sharp and clear. Traitors.
“What if…” I cleared my throat, a risky idea forming in my mind. “What if we didn’t douse the flame?”
The old emperors wisely listened. “Explain yourself.”
“I caught a glimpse of what fuels the fire,” I reminded them. “Whether it was the First Emperor or something else, it resents the Nigthlords with a hate that surpasses even ours. That, and the sisters… they said they would drain power from the flame.”
“You believe that this power is not granted willingly,” the Parliament guessed. “It is stolen.”
“I think so,” I confirmed. “What if instead of canceling the Nightlords’ ritual, we could cause it to backfire on them? Let the entity reap its revenge against them?”
For the second time since I had met them, the skulls making up the Parliament started silently debating between themselves. Such was the gravity of my suggestion.
“We presume that you understand the risks at hand,” they said upon reaching a consensus. “Sorcery of this magnitude is like wielding an obsidian dagger without a hilt. A single mistake might spell your destruction.”
“We have all perished once before,” I replied with determination. I had stabbed my own heart to spite the sisters on the very first night of my rule. I could do it again if needed. “While I would rather live to see Yohuachanca crumble, I will gladly offer my life to drag the Nightlords down into the Underworld’s depths.”
“Your resolve does you credit, our successor.” The dead emperors rattled in approval. “We must ponder this further and gather more information. Until then, you should rest and think, our successor. We can discuss our options with a clearer mind afterward.”
I excused myself with a final bow, so tired that I relished the thought of going to bed. Yet my mind remained worried. If the First Emperor truly fueled that sinister ritual, then it made it all the more imperative to study his codices.
I needed to obtain those books by whatever means necessary.
Only then could I cut the vampire curse off at its source.
Comments
Void Herald
More like a candle being suddenly surrounded by night ;)
Hussar L
“Thick shadows as warm as blood swallowed the light of my Gaze spell” if First Emperor was dog, Iztac’s light of embers was peanut butter, I imagined it was like First Emperor licking up peanut butter Iztac smeared on the opening lol
Void Herald
Thanks :) well I think a story needs an end in mind, or at least a plan where the heroes 'win' (for a certain definition of it) at the start; if there's no central goal the plot just meaders around XD
Stultus
I was just pondering on your stories in general, and I'd like to compliment you on your "planning". Your books don't overstay their welcome or ever drag on. Blood & Fur has a set timeline - one year and things will end one way or another. Vainqueur had the level 100 cap, The Perfect Run had the defeat of Lightning Zeus. You keep your plots within a timeline, and I find I much prefer them over rambling long stories that are so common on RoyalRoad. While long stories do have their upsides, i can count on one hand the number of books I've read on RoyalRoad that were actually finished. Cheers to you. :)
