Resurrection

From the beginning of knowledge I have been by them.  My hand plucked them from Mictlantecuhtle's halls and guided them on the path to life, baptizing them in my own blood.  When at last I was forced to leave their midst, a solemn promise was given that I would some day return, to bring light and guidance again.

They are my people.

I have guarded and guided them as best I can.  I have given them fire, given them food, given them water, wind, the dogs at their feet, the drums and the flutes and the dances with which to celebrate, to mourn, to call.  I gave them hope in times of hopelessness, unity to persevere.

They have repaid me with blood, my blood returned to me, the sweeter for the sharing.  The children laugh and dance to hide the fear and the pain as they take the needle and run it swiftly through ears, tongue, nose, the crimson liquid my nourishment and my right.  The warriors call to me as they willingly allow the priest to cut through flesh and bone, revealing the throbbing pulse of life below.

They call me by blood.  They thank me by blood.  We are bound by blood.

He has stolen their blood.  He claims my name and my place, though his tongue stumbles over the word.  He is not mine.  He was given long ago to the Single in Three, the god across the great waters.  Yet he claimed my name, and out of love for me the priests did nothing 'til the time for action had long passed away to dust.

Mictlantecuhtle's halls drip crimson.  There are no shortages of bones for my twin and I to steal now.

They are my people.

It is my blood.

He swore to stop the slaughter in return for the lifeless metal.  They gave it.

The blood still drips and pools in Mictlantecuhtle's halls.

Coyolxauhqui shall aid me in my quest for vengeance.  What thinks itself real, wills itself life, coats itself in belief beneath the harsh gaze of Huitzilopochtli shall have those precious dreams ripped asunder by her gentlest touch, her softest caress.  Humanity will shudder at the truth that she reveals.

Each drop of blood, my people's blood, my blood, each precious drop that is shed by his blasphemous mouth or impious hand shall add to the power of my wrath.

I am Quetzalcoatl.

I am the bringer of resurrection.

He shall beg for Mictlantecuhtle's touch ere I am through with him.