"Our Prophecy"
Fandom : Maya and the Three / Mesoamericans, Aztec, Mayan, Mythological Cultures AU
Declaimer : All rights reserved to Gorge Gutiérrez. This FanFiction and it's OCs belong to me. No copies are authorised unless given specific approval; this includes OC characters and plot development, unless properly given credit to. No money is being made with this. Reviews are welcomed, and positive criticism is
encouraged.
Warnings : (16) Gods, magic, mythology, worship, romance, angst, character death, sexual and mature themes, gore, torture, explicit content, mentions of non-con/rape, fluff, mental breakdown, anxiety n/or panic attacks, mental abuse, enemies to friends to lovers.
Main pairing: Princess Maya/Zatz Prince of Bats
Language: English and Spanish
Summary : Her Coronation Day ruined, all Maya can do is hold her anger, let it fester and grow, as her Father and Brothers march with the Teca Army towards their certain doom...
A single choice to make or break. Maya's decision changes the course of history and diverges from her fated path.
Warning : child abuse, torture, gore, mention of non-con/rape, mental abuse.
What has been, has been done
~~~~~~~~~~
While it was not unknown for Gods to mingle with mortals, their pogeny's lives were either a blessing or curse. Some turned into valiant heroes, rising above the clouds and reaching the stars, others hid from death as it chased them from the slums, their mortal parents more often than not leaving their offspring with a cruel fate only few could escape.
For the Gods, life was not the same. A thousand years could pass, but for them it was in the blink of an eye. Mortal issues could never be understood; from nature to wanting to curse their neighbor, the demands were too multitudinous, so the Gods found a quick easy solution to limit them. Sacrifices. Although not something that would deter the mortals, it served as a limit. The celestial beings choosing specific champions that would represent them and thus leaving all the work save for their gody responsibilities in their hands.
It continued in this manner for thousands of years, with the changing of times came the evolution of improvement in lifestyle. Where once the Goddess Cihuacoatl would help birth the young, now her priestesses did. When the God Itzamná had once led the people to understand the stars and learn to navigate and predict their meanings, mortals could now do so on their own. The purpose of the Gods changed to that of an overseer, leaving the humans to learn without completely being dependent on them. But with these freedoms came a number of negativities, the worst of them being the perception Gods had one what they could do. The ancient rules once forged all but forgotten.
The story begins with a village high atop the mountains frozen in winter. Their warriors battled monsters in the borderlands not far from their settlement. It was a constant war they had to face, their young raised away just to return to fight and die. It was during one of the bloodiest massacres occurring that a sorcerer passed through, covered by a dark cloak and voice raspy with misuse, their words speaking of a travesty that was to occur. Unfortunately the Kingdom did not listen, turning away the stranger that had staggered in their lands.
Years passed and the words were forgotten to time, only the last of the elders weary.
It was during a simple night that fear gripped them. In one of the outer villages, mortals screamed as monsters thought gone suddenly invaded, ripping the flesh of all that crossed them and eating the promising warriors that courageously tried to stop them.
Only one survived.
The Kingdom's army arrived to see a young woman holding a crying babe. The little one's bright silver-white hair and glowing red eyes, a sign of the woman's misdeeds, the child was a halfling, it's father God or monster still meant a curse upon their lands.
So they chased her, followed her as far as their boundary line permitted, trapping her between the promise of death by humans and monsters. It was at this time that a mighty screech sounded above. A large horrifying being flew overhead to land between them, taking the woman into its arms as he took her away. That creature was Camazotz, the God of Bats, and the woman at his side was called Zyanya, his mortal wife. They're story, although tragic, held within it a beautiful love, short in its flame, it burned the brightest out of all the loves Lord Tezcatlipoca the God of Destiny had ever seen.
The unfortunate lovers had to separate on multiple occasions, but unfortunately, during one of these, Zyanya lost her life. Leaving husband and son alone.
This is where his story began. That fateful night.
Zatz lived a sheltered life. Happy as it was, dwelling in a cave where his only friends were bats left the young boy in boredom. His father's rules stifling for a child his age. But Zatz did not let that deter him.
The godling had a wonderful few years. Learning as much as he could while hidden away in a cave. It was a life he would come to treasure in his memories at an older age, when his eyes did not sparkle nor held within them hope.
Regrettably, as all good things come to an end, so did this one. The God of Bats had three simple rules for his child; never make light, meet no-one, and the most important of all... not to leave the caves.
Alas, like all young children, he got too curious. One day with his father away, the godling left the safety of his home, egear to know what was beyond the walls he lived in. Leading to his unfortunate discovery by an unforgiving being.
At the tender age of five, Zatz the prince of bats was no more. Taken from his home to the deepest part of hell, where he will either learn to survive or die.
A little boy no more than six walked to the front of a group of children. He was pushed before a large grey man who raised his shirt, soldiers taking hold of the struggling boy as the man struck a branding rod on the side of his abdomen. The child held his screams as it was pressed harder, the smell of burnt flesh under his nose. He was pushed away towards a building not far as another child took his place, their screams not silent, but an echo that chilled him to the bones.
Their life was not pretty nor safe -someone was always dying either during training or for the simple pleasure of the guards-, being trained in the art of servitude and war. The boy had been there for only two years, shorter than the rest who were brought as babes or bred inside the halls.
It was a school of sorts where they were. Divided all by age to compete in a fair way. From hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, and strategy. Their overseer even assuring -if it could even be called that- them that they make sure they don't die during experiments, as Lord Mictlan wanted many servants to his kingdom of the 9th domain of the Underworld. A bleak reality it was.
They were lined before a door, this time a red skinned woman waiting at the front, paper in her hands as she checked each passing child. Walking to her, the little boy stood stiff, hands straight at his side as she clicked her tongue. "Number 50Z82, you will go through the green door and join the yohualli group." She pointed her scaly red finger towards a dark hall, a single fluorescent green light leading the path, before calling out "next".
The interior was nothing noteworthy, dark long walls and stone floor, no windows seen. He walked towards the central table, wooden boxes on it with numbers, their names. His was on the left -a shiny silver 50Z82- and he took it, standing next to the other children that were already lined up as more entered the large room and took their own boxes.
It was only after all one hundred of them were standing ready, that the door on the far left slammed open, a creature larger than the frame stepping out. The first thing the child could see were teeth, half his face covered by it, only some hidden by a pair of horns. His blue-green skin helped make his eyes shine, a bright yellow surrounded by smoking red that held a promise of death. This was their new master. "I am Buluc, a God of War serving under Lord Mictlan, you will all call me Master Buluc," he stared at them, eyeing one of the children near the edge fidgeting. "Should you not do so, I will eat you." The last words sent a chill through the children, their tiny forms shivering in the rags they wore. They were sent to the pits not long after, where they would live -'if being shoved inside is a small hole could be called a home, honestly a downgrade from his cell'- and serve to become warriors.
It was a year later that something changed in his otherwise dull routine life. Number 50Z82 was miserable. From waking up and getting fed a small piece of glob -'it was small, his own hand bigger than the portion'- for the day to enduring training -'if it could be called that'- till he ended up unconscious, repeating it all after waking up again. Until one day. It was three years after his arrival to the yohualli that there was a change, unlike the others from his unit, he had never been taken towards the modification chamber, where they experiment and change the children taken. But that day... that day he was moved into the deepest part of the school. They smacked his head until he fell, carrying him though parts unknown where he woke to monsters poking and prodigy his skin, their sharp tools digging into his flesh, red blood flowing out like his screams did. It was agonizing for the little boy. They cut open his stomach, belly parted in two, and he could see his insides -'organs he was told it was called. They were going to fix him from his imperfections, he was to be strong. Stronger than them all.' No matter how many times his eyes rolled up and faded to the darkness, they would wake him to follow up more procedures.
The most painful one, the one where they took out his spine to "just melt the bonds to forge stronger ones" they said, "you should be grateful half-breed, the blood of bats protecting you from dying easily" they hissed like a curse. That one he fought, he struggled and screamed, kicking anywhere he could reach. Under normal circumstances, this would suffice to an extent, but these were gods, they were monsters with strength mortals could only imagine. So the efforts of a small child -a small, malnourished and already weakened and bloody child- meant nothing to them, instead... instead they delivered a punishment for his behaviour. They pushed him into a cell filled with the stench of death, the mutilated corpses of others his own age and older laid discarded on a corner. "You should have listened, number 50Z82. Do try not to die before I'm done with you" the only one in the room beside him was an elder looking being, lower form slithering like a snake. Yellow and scaly, it was one of the most horrible sights he had seen, nevermind the horrors he had experienced in his so far short life.
"I will begin by opening up your mind, you will experience the fate all those before you had as if it were your own", the snake said as it started by making incisions on his scalp. The boy screamed so loud he thought his ears would bleed, his tourture hissing a chuckle. "Perhaps to encourage better ... behaviour, I will take my payment from you now" the boy's torutre said before slowly taking his left eyeball.
Even if Number 50Z82 was not a stranger to pain, it was different from the sting or burns he's experienced, or flesh being cut off, or even the sizzle of fire and salt being poured on to close his wounds could not relieve him of his consciousness. The boy's tourture did not stop there though. It dug it's long nailed fingers into his head, crushing the back of his skull -it chuckled as it did, "I will fix that after finishing up, if you break, it would cost me more"- blood flowed out, gushing as the fingers were dug even more, breaking apart his skull and taking piece by piece out of his head. "Let's begin now shall we? Next time you open your eyes, you will be completed at last!". The shrill laugh of it was the last sound number 50Z82 could remember as he finally closed his eyes.
Because of those horrible weeks he spent in the correctional chamber, -as he later found out it was called- number 50Z82 was immediately sent to Master Buluc, who then sent him back after continuous macuahuitl training, and back again, and back again. His only rest being the seven days between each procedure. Number 50Z82 treasured those sleepless moments, where he could just curl into himself and be in complete utter silence.
It continued like this for two years, only counted by the rituals they made them do each on the day they were born. Each year since he had first walked through the green hall and into the yohualli, he was taken into the open grounds behind the school, and even outside, everything was darken and warm -'scorchingly warm really'- , they took all divided groups, where only then the children are able to see colours -the blues, reds, greens, yellows, purples, and oranges- to be moved towards fire rings burning at all times -the only source of light inside the school coincidentally- where they were instructed to fight. It was always a bloody messy affair, since all children living in the school knew, was cruelty. Breaking another's neck to show superior power a normal occurrence.
These instances were a little bit worse; punishment for failure, immediate death. Punishment for not being brutal enough meant weeks inside the correctional chamber, punishment for not killing at all... that one meant becoming the grub they fed them. Number 50Z82's fear -besides all those others- was that when the time came to leave the horrible place they all lived in, he would still be alive.
So far it hadn't been an ideal life, the boy had already killed and he knew from the little memories that he had, it wasn't an honorable thing to do. Surrounded by death gods, monsters that riped apart his fellow tlacotin -slaves just like him- and constantly undergoing the torture with the snake, the boy had all but given up hope for the pain to stop.
Unlike the other times where at the start of the new year -this one he was turning eleven- they would be led to the soldiers field, his yohualli group went to the top floor, where the gate to the Mictlan Palace was located.
The Palace was an enormous upside down fiery pyramid, with its dark snakes adorning the exterior and long rows of jumbies -souls- roaming the outside, it was protected by a wide abyss surrounding the ocean of lava it was situated over, its swirls a transportation to a different dimension worse than the 9th layer. A world where the worst of all Gods and monsters from the Earth went, no matter their pantheon.
So while crossing the bridge to the palace, it was understandable that the more cunning of children violently pushed over the weaker ones, laughing as some tried to fight back but ended up losing limbs that were eaten by the victor before being shoved. Number 50Z82 was lucky that with the number of visits to the correctional chamber meant the others were more leery of going near him. Not that they didn't try, but he proved the extra strength was enough, covered completely with blood and remains from crushing some smaller skulls when they arrived at the entrance.
Master Buluc only watched in disinterest as they weeded out one another, his eyes landing on the most obedient he had ever had the pleasure of training. Number 50Z82. The boy was an anomaly, he stubbornly kept living -an irony if nothing else- no matter how many times he tried to kill himself. For someone so young, he was strong. Stronger than even the prodigy of their school was so proud of breaking. The daughter of Ah-Kat had no will left after they were done. She had been such fun to train. Buluc could still remember her cries and shrill screams of pain as she was ripped apart from the inside out, his best work next to the boy. He learned to silence himself after the first time with the crazed chaman -the thing had once been a mortal, but by making a deal with a lower demon turned into a horrible monster.
The thing was known for always breaking too much of the young slaves, but fortunatly Number 50Z82 kept surviving even after the many times Buluc sent him back. The boy was the reason for the impromptu trip. Buluc smiled a sharp thing, egear for what was to come to the unsuspecting things. The promise of only three survivors for the thousands of them such a thrilling thing.
Number 50Z82 looked around. The arena he was standing in was completely filled completely, a dome so infinite the end wasn't visible. They were moved towards a stank filled room to wait for their numbers to be called, until then having to sit on the filthy ground full of excretion. Many were called before him one by one, some returning with missing bits, others missing from their numbers. So when he walked past the archway separating the room they were held and the open space of where he was to fight. Other children smirked at him as he passed by, but he ignored them. His calm and controlled gait hid the nervousness he felt. This was new. New was bad. New meant pain and strain and promised worse things than he had experienced.
Reaching the center, the cheer of beings more powerful than he shaked the ground he was in, the gravel bouncing. A door on the other side opened and out came a large boy, he was wearing a red loincloth, -the color belonging to the omitl (bones) group- and black armour around his torso. His opponent was standing tall and showed his sharp teeth yellow like his eyes. A cournch blew and they began their fight. The omitl started impatiently by rushing at him, daggers gleaming as they slashed, the boy ducking and slamming a hand to his midriff, pushing the larger boy who banged with the wall, the impact so strong that it cracked. Number 50Z82 was unphased as his opponent fell, the hole his hand made gushing. He knew that he needed to conserve energy as that was his first fight. Better end it quickly than to extend it just to show off. Flaunting most of the time ended with death. Like most things really.
Number 50Z82 stood still as they called out his number, Master Buluc who stood next to another -the other's master snarled as she looked at the fallen omitl, bringing pleasure to the boy. He would show them- threw half of a dark ichcahuipilli armour at him. That was his reward for an efficient kill. Number 50Z82 raised it and gave a victor's cry, howls and cheers answering from the beings betting on their wins. The boy looked towards the fallen form of his opponent, he could hear how his heartbeat slowed. Still alive, but not for long. He took an arm and dragged the omitl boy towards the waiting room. Laughs and calls for blood following.
He looked around at the waiting room, his fellow yohualli blank stares and some snarls his way the only acknowledgement. Sitting down on the far corner, farther from the guards surrounding them and the children, dragging the other boy closer as he started to cut him open, the screams loud in the room. The omitl's body would nourish him until the next time he was called.
Stated, Number 50Z82 licked the blood from his fingers, eyes narrowed as other children gazed hungrily at the remains. He considered giving it to them but decided against it. It would do no good to simply give it to them, they had to wait until he was called again. 'Lucky for them, it would soon be his turn' he thought. And as predicted, the conch shell blew once more with his number. As the boy walked he glanced to see all the others scramble to get a piece of what was left of the omitl boy he ate.
The arena was empty once again, his opponent having walked out yet, and he took the time to see who was next to his Master for a clue. This time, a mortal man with rotting flesh and dead eyes was next to him. A zonbi was a type of ghoul that had no special abilities like the rest, only their memories remaining from the mortal world, and that particular zonbi was a detestable one. Master Buluc always complaining about how the upstart Master of the inemauhtil -the black fear- was too rash and impatient, often times playing too rough with the slaves and ending with almost none save the few strong enough to. The rattle of metal bars caught his attention, his next opponent coming out. It was an older girl with a short black skirt and a piece of cloth around her chest, the number on her stomach different from those he knew. 23W19.
She was older than him.
Number 50Z82 carefully eyed her, she was comfortable. That was not good.
The horn blew again and she stayed where she was. If one of them did not start, they would both be punished afterwards. The boy looked at her, seeing her spear dipping a clear liquid. She planned to poison him. He angled the macuahuitl he had chosen before closing in and slashing at her legs. She blocked it and stabbed at his side, nicking at the edge. She took first blood. He needed to end it fast, the more hits she landed the more slow he would become. The inemauhtil girl kept attacking, her hits heavy and swift. It was until she raised her spear as he fell that he saw his chance. Swiping her legs he jumped over her and landed his macuahuitl on her right hand, cutting it in half as he quickly took her spear and smashed the tip in her eye.
The arena shaked as the crowd cheered. Number 50Z82 looked at his master again, the god glanced at the fallen girl and the boy understood. He was to take her winnings for himself. The pouch of poison under his armour and spear at his side, he stood.
There was a sudden hush around that had him still. Lord Mictlan had raised a hand calling for attention. "Bring them all out. Let each fight until only the strongest ones are left" the War God said with a hissed crackle.
The arena doors opened and every child left gathered. There were a few thousands all together, but that is not what Number 50Z82 focused on. No, he was frozen as slaves much, much older steped out. The oldest he could see with their 15R90. Nine years his senior. The boy gritted his teeth as he thought on how to proceed. Some of them already mastered their magics while he hasn't even begun training on it, too busy being cut open to fully understand what he was given.
The older ones were sure to target them, young and inexperienced an easy target. He stepped closer to the wall, hand touching the shade and ready to enter the shadow. The conch blew and the ones near the middle started to fall, the older children making quick work of their small stature to continue. He entered the shade and moved to the opposite side, stabbing with the poisoned dipped spear those standing too close to the wall.
Every single child either dead or battling the numbers of others were too busy to notice the small child hiding in their shadows, pulling them when distracted to their deaths. Number 50Z82 took advantage of their fights, cutting off heads and toros in half. He was covered in blood and entrails, which at least protected him from being identified. They were all thought to target opposites before their own, and while some did not follow the advice, most did.
His musings cut by a stray arrow, he looked up. Some had wings and had finally noticed him. Their attacks rained in a downpour striking many, but that did not mean they were safe. So clearly flying above meant easy picking. The boy moved from the shade of his last kill to under the shadow of wings of the biggest one overhead, stabbing his shoulder blades and ripping the skin of his neck with his sharp colmillos -his teeth. His victim screamed and tried shaking him off, but the poison was already in his blood, weakening him. Number 50Z82 quickly took his arrows and the rope around the waist of the other and jumped to another, as his previous support crumbled a-top others from his fall. The boy did quick work, finding it easier to rip off the wings of the flying boys and breaking the spleen of those that had none.
The battle lasted for so long, the boy had no idea if it were hours or days, but he felt something changing within the air as only a few were left. The large arena full of bodies, Number 50Z82 laid down next to a larger girl, hiding behind her form as he took note of those still standing. There were seven left now, an older girl in purple having taken out the rest. The boy entered the dead girl's shade and moved under one of the closer children. He thrusted the spear upward and impaled the boy, his scream getting the others' attention, Number 50Z82 launched himself, throwing the arrowheads he still had left. Three were hit and now only the purple girl were left. The blow of a shell halted their strikes. The crowd roared and stood as they threw coins at their heads. Lord Mictlan standing as he laughed a horrid sound.
"The winners" The imposing form of Lord Mictlan flew over the childrens head as he raised his arms, addressing the still cheering crowd. "Should they be rewarded?", his question was met with some laughing and others agreeing.
As the War God looked at them, his eyes held Number 50Z82's a little longer and he grinned. "They shall be part of nuestros guerreros! Our warriors! For this entertaining display". The gods and monsters stomped in the stands, the ground vibrating from the force as the children were led out.
Master Buluc was waiting beside a hooded figure with bright purple swirls on their robe, both holding dark jade bracelets. The boy stepped closer to his master as the older girl besides him gowled, her magenta eyes hazy. "Smile niño, you have been... promoted." His Master tells him as he shoves the bracelet up his arm, the burn of the jade stinging his skin as it melts to his flesh.
A few years passed since that moment, and the boy grew stronger each day. Rising from the ranks of a lowly soldier to becoming the General of Lord Mictlan's warrior army. He had reached the ultimate rank a half-blood like him could. And wasn't that a shock to know. Number 50Z82 was rewarded with finally meeting his sire, Camazotz the God of Bats.
His father had taken him to the protected Cavern side his domain laid in and hugged him, tenderly healing what little could be healed with his magic, eyes dark as they landed on his missing left one. The young man had even learned the name his deceased moral mother had chosen for him. He was Zatz, the Prince of Bats. and Zatz loved it.
The God's domain was incredibly beautiful -and perhaps Zatz was biased as this was his father's kingdom. It was the land of caverns and caves and coves, hiding many wonderful things and beings inside. Holding so many secrets but open only to the blood of the God and his progeny. The land of Bats was filled with flowers of many kinds, although in darkness they still shined so luminecently. The creatures living inside rejoicing at their Prince's return, flying and running in circles around him, dancing to music only the creatures of his father's doman could hear as they welcomed him home. Zatz was engulfed in a cocoon of tender care. A glowing silver bat landed on his shoulder, its small webbed hands touching around his missing eye, cooed as it left silver dust on the open skin, the once always infected wound, frizzling as it closed and turned to a soft pink instead of the angry red and purple it had been. Zatz smiled at the small creature, petting the little head as it hugged him.
Father and son had spent the day getting to know one another, with the God listening closely to his words, snarling in anger during his tales. Both spent many hours talking after that, and then his father told him he was planning to somehow dethrone Lord Mictlan with the help of a powerful ally, that Lord Mictlan was slipping. As Dark Gods, they had the responsibilities of their domains, but that did not make them evil, it did not make them into what the War God was turning. Zatz's kidnapping the last straw for the God of Bats, his father told him.
It was while returning that Zatz -'he is for the first time he thinks, happy to have something only his and his alone'- was met with someone he had not seen since he had turned 10 all those years ago. Acat, Goddess of Tattoos.
While like most slaves, Zatz were half-bloods -had a mortal parent and a celestial one-, she was not. As the youngest of all Ah-Kat heirs and the most unstable, the old Deity had sold her to the Master before his death, she was one of the few with complete godly blood in the school.
Just as he had won, so had she, and both were rewarded with ranks of lower tier soldiers in Lord Mictlan's army. Fortunately separating due to their positions. Zatz rose fast for his wits and strength while she suffered at the hands of her superiors, oftentimes pleasing their whims to survive if what he heard was true. Zatz felt no pity for the woman, she was ruthless and cunning, with enough power to have a better position, but her disdain for listening to someone other than the Master that trained her led to her lower rank. Zatz knew she suffered worse punishments than what he experienced for that, the young goddess turning to madness that none save their King could control.
Nowadays he knew she was off to the mortal realm on assignments from their Lord.
But there she was. Walking with that mad glint in her eyes and horrible smile. She approaches him. "General, Lord Mictlan calls you to the throne room" she tries touching his arm, but he glares at her. Zatz knows of her tricks, he knows how if she touches skin with another she can imprint her ink on them like a tag. The reason the King still had his use for her, otherwise she would have been replaced, as it was, he had been ordered to get closer to her since she did tend to listen to him.
Acat giggled as she moved away. Zatz sighed as he changed directions to where he was called. Having to tolerate the crazed woman made him wish he could have perhaps found a way to permanently replace her. Zatz had felt pity initially, once thinking of her as the same to him, but it was quickly proven a mistake as she had killed all her garrison for refusing to touch her. Zatz grimaced remembering that particular incident.
The throne room was big, bigger than most as it was where the most powerful Gods, the Rulers of the 9th Layer of the Underworld joined together before returning to their respective domains. A long stone table filled with things he had never seen was in the center of the room, Lord Mictlan sitting at the very center in his throne in a dais above the rest, his wife and the Queen Goddess of Death, Lady Micte next to him, her yellow eyes landing on him.
Zatz knelt and looked downwards, not daring to hold her or anyone else's stare. He stayed that way until his father approached the King and spoke with him.
"Ah si! The little godling has arrived" the King's voice boomed and others laughed. "Rise Zatz, Prince of Bats. You have a task to do". Zatz for his part froze as he heard his words. The King knew. Zatz had hoped that perhaps he had not, but he did. It had been at the Lord's orders that he was taken. He knew who he was and still ordered for the school to take him from his father's domain.
He stood and hid his balling fists. It would do no good to show his uneasiness.
"You have risen through my army to become the leading General, so I will reward you with this task child." the Lord's head split into two snakes, a red and purple that stared intently at his still form. "You will be my emissary to the mortal Kingdom of Teca" the God looked at his wife, caressing her face gently before taking it in a tight grip, nails digging into her skeletal form as she hissed with a dark laugh. "You will tell them to hand over their Princess as she will be a sacrifice" he told him, hand pulling his wife's face closer as he held a dagger in the other and laid it at her neck. "My wife's half-breed daughter, Princesa Maya". The King let her go as he chuckled, eyes bright with malice returned to Zatz. Lady Micte crooned and snapped her sharp teeth in a smile, blood red lips holding promise. "She will be a delicious sacrifice for you, miamor" her voice softly said. The War God spoke to Zatz, before dismissing him "Inform them that Lord Mictlan is merciful, I will let their pathetic selves live if they let the half-breed go with, should they refuse, they will all die." Zatz bowed, hand in chest as he closed his eye.
"It will be done Lord Mictlan"
Zatz left the palace, his faithful companion Colmillo, a dead puma waiting for him. Colmillo had been a surprise for the young man. The beast had been a feral feline that none of the taming masters could control. Its unique talent for spitting acid and melting to the shadows aiding it in evading anyones touch. It had been accidental the bonding they had, Zatz coming across his cell once while lost leaving the correctional chambers the first time. Colmillo had immediately bonded their souls with a familial pledge he could not understand.
Thankfully the bond meant Zatz retained some of his memories from before, and no matter the times they messed with his mind the countless tortures he endures he would not die, the tie to divinity stronger with a celestial beast. A secret he has told no one -not even his father. Zatz's blood was no longer red, it was tinted golden, and he was careful to spell it otherwise if injured.
Colmillo purred as he scratched behind where his ears should be. "We will be going to the mortal realm Millo" the puma pushed its head into his hand nodding. Zatz smiled as he mounted him, excited at finally stepping foot into the world of humans.
The first thing that greeted him was colours. The world of mortals was the most colourful and beautiful he had seen. There were many plants of different shapes and colours, animals of different breeds that looked so wonderful and small. Even the air was a gift. Many unknown smells invaded his nose as he breathed. The air was so clean it surprised him. Whereas every time he breathed in the underworld the stench of decay and rotting flesh as well as the sting of burning sulfur assaulted his senses, earth was soft. It lulled him to peace. Another anomaly was the sky, an amazing thing that changed colors and had things float in it, a bright big ball of light moving slower than most. The 9th Layer had no sky, it only had rocks. Rocks that would sometimes fall and impale and crush.
Zatz felt free. Freedom of everything he knew and didn't as he rode Colmillo to the Teca Kingdom, his map directing him through different places. He passed mountains that sometimes had melted ice falling in a cascade of blue, or they were so tall they had soft ice hugging them. There was also terrain he could somewhat recognize, the scorching heat over flat plains with death in it. Then there was the complete unknown, such as "rain" as he heard a passing human call it while he and Colmillo hid in the shadows. The melted ice falling from the sky, with electric strikes going up as it moved with the soft floating white things above. Everything was bewilderingly stunning and Zatz hoped to explore more.
There were sounds of tambores and many others he didn't recognize as he approached a large palace. It was beautiful and colourful as well. Nearing it as they hid, Zatz saw the mortals dance and cheer. There were many dressed with similar colours but there were also three other large groups standing, each together with their own, one -dressed in all purple- separated more than the rest. A hush fell and the people looked up at the pyramid, where at the top was a platform, in it only a few mortals.
The King and Queen most recognisable by their attire, three men dressed in the skin of jaguares -warriors then- at their side as the mortal woman pointed at the large archway behind them. Zatz was too far to understand what she was saying, but he got the gist of it as a petite girl adorned with so many things that it appeared she would be swallowed by them stepped forward. He stared as she walked only to trip, the three men hesitating at her side as she stood gracefully and continued forward.
Zatz contemplated before sighing, clicking at Colmillo to leave the safety of the shadows. His familiar's steps halted the celebrations and Zatz breathed before dismounting and placing the flag of Lord Mictlan's emissary on the floor, leaving the burning thing there as he slowly walked closer to the mortals.
The Kingdoms army formed three lines between him and their people -Zatz commended their speed and courage- yelling "For Teca" as they smacked spears on shields twice. He addressed the royals -perhaps if he smiled they would see he was there only to relay a message and not attack."Great King and Queen of Teca! Allow me to introduce myself" he removed his helmet and smiled a smile he had practiced while journeying to the Teca Kingdom. "I am Zatz! The Prince of Bats. I am but a humble emissary for Lord Mictlan" he bowed as he had been taught during schooling -Zatz scowled internally as he pushed those horrid memories away- before looking at the royals above.
"Porque estás aquí? Why are you here? We have done nothing but honour the Gods!" the Queen inquired, voice strong.
Zatz walked forward again, trying a consoling smile this time -Colmillo had laughed at him while he tried it looking at his reflection in the strange lake of melted ice. "Please allow me the honour to escort the beloved Princess Maya to her rightful Kingdom, The Underworld. Where she will be sacrificed". Zatz winced mentally as he said those words out loud. He really should've rehearsed what he was going to say, but he got distracted by the sights the mortal realm had. "Never fear, Princess Maya shall be welcomed to the endless Death by her true mother, Lady Micte", even his placetating words did not stop people from crying.
The Princess herself was moved behind the Queen, the Teca King signalling his three warriors beside him, "At my signal Jaguares!". It seemed Zatz had unknowingly escalated the situation. He shook his head as he tried one last time to make them see sense, "Allow me to escort the honourable Princess Maya, I promise no harm will befall anyone, but should you resist, all will die. Eso se los juró that I promise". Unfortunately the King did not listen. "Enel nombre de Teca! In the name of Teca! Attack!" The King and his clearly trusted three jumped down the platform they stood -that was really high up, he thought mortals had a fear of that- and ran through column and stone towards him.
Zatz pulled out his conch shell and blew, calling for the two golems he had at his disposal. The heads rolled from the pocket of darkness he had placed before on the forest floor, pulling rocks and standing tall at his side. "You have left me no choice" he told the monarch and his three in front of him. "Know that the Kingdom of Teca fears no dark Gods!!" the King told him loudly as the others started to rush at him, their strikes weaker than he expected. Zatz tried to humour them, a pride of a warrior was often their weakness, so he tried to instill instead a lesson. It was while observing their skill that he wondered, was this their strongest? Were these four their mightiest?
He could not continue their battle -a term he loosely used- in good mind. It was not honorable to fight them when he was stronger than them and they were clearly putting much effort.
"This ends now", he quickly knocked his three opponents down with one of their shields and turned to the other side. The King was standing atop his golems and missing an arm. Zatz sighed -he has been doing that for some time now he noticed- and lowered his weapon and threw the others to his feet. "I will not fight you, King Teca, it is clear you are hurt". The man swayed as he glared at him, but Zatz motioned for his familiar, mounting him annoyed at the stubborn human man who simply growled at him. "tell your Gods niño, that if they want my daughter, they have to rip her from my. Cold. Dead. Arms... Am I understood?". He stared at the King for a moment before acknowledging with a head bow to his words, "the God of War will not be pleased".
He looked at where the princess was, her face frozen -it was possible she had not known of her status of a halfling before then- Colmillo roared a farewell as both he and his familiar bowed to her. "Be well Princess Maya, as we will see each other soon" he smiled at her hoping to come across as friendly -he was unsuccessful if her expression was anything to go by- and urged Colmillo away. Already dreading speaking to his Lord. The 9th Layer's King unpredictable reactions feared through the lands and beyond.
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