As the Tlawecoli and his men made it deeper through the city, rumors murmured through its flooded alleys.

“TLAWECOLI!”

"Tla-we-we-coli..."

“Zinican!”

“The Beast..”

They recited his names, even the chronically stoic patrols gushed with infantile gossip.

It was not unusual for Mezans to admire a warrior’s prestige, whether their preceding reputation be hostile or amicable, by Imperial ideals warriors of all broods were champions.

The main passage, still composed of the same feather-shaped tiles that built the main road continued its path onward, leading the prince’s bounty across the busy walkways.

As the prince’s caravan plowed through the hordes.

Guiding them through the impertinent crowd.

Onlookers, merchants, and patrons alike gawked at the parading cavalcade of his triumphant battle.

Courts of solid grey granite and rectangular mounds of grassy knolls tenanted the city grounds.

An amalgamation of delectable fragrances peppered the temple floors and market plazas, where vendors splayed their wares for the hustling crowds.

They scurried past ball courts, schools, and sanctums.

Marching on, until finally reaching the monumental altar at the center of the city.

Carved emerald boulders sprouted from the vegetation, guiding the convoy along its path, steering them unto the solar court of Xiupotec.

There an ascending pyramid rose into the setting sky, cleaving the engorged sunset with its towering silhouette, its dying light mingling with the flaring pyres that ranged across the countryside.

Much to Cuatemoc’s evident disdain and obvious expectations, his rivals’ platoons had already reached assembly ahead of the empire’s prodigious son.

The ceremonial grounds pervaded with adversarial allies and loyal peers alike, as the rest of its plazas lay aswarm with passionate citizens of Mezax.

"Achauti!"

One of the younger men among the court hailed Cuatemoc’s return.

His wide smile extended from ear to ear, where his black locks draped over.

He waved with enthusiasm at the arriving troop.

Tlawecoli raised his quivering neck at the prattling uproar of the audience.

In the plaza, all the other squadrons lined across the pyramids courtyard.

"ACHATUI!!"

It was the teenage Prince, Nezahalco, who had just completed his inauguration as squad leader.

Even his inexperience had managed to outpace his belated elder brother.

Cautemoc stood as the head of his carriage neared his compatriot’s lined ranks.

Awaiting praise and applause from the citizenry, only mutters and whispers greeted his arrival.

Except of course for the cheers and admiration of his little Iccauti.

The adoration of his subjects on the other hand remained possessed by the haunting sight of Tlawecoli, man-bat of the east; also referred to as Bloodthirsty Zinican by parents of disobedient children.

Although these embellishments were simply campfire fables.

The spectators, both curious and hesitant remained firmly fascinated by the monumental catch.

A victory sure to ennoble the Mezax Empire for generations to come.

Prince Cuatemoc’s colleagues groaned with disgust and growled their disfavor.

With disapproving glances fixed on the blasphemous and disgraceful condition, his grand prize found himself in.

Tlawecoli’s right leg was partially immobile.

As for the young cadet, well his body hung over the carts reel, his neck limp, lifeless.

Injuring a captive so severely, well there was rarely a sin as abhorred by Mezans as mutilating an opponent, let alone one who was subdued and captured.

This had been a test of capability, maturity, and leadership.

And much like the citizens of Ometeotican, the emperor’s eyes failed to mask his disgrace and dismay.

Emperor Moctezoma inspected the unusually muffled crowd, with confounded brows, he leered at the meandering citizens.

An insurmountable pit filled Prince Cuatemoc’s stomach.

Looking back at his captain, all Axalco could do was bury his head in embarrassment.

High atop the altars perch, the prince gazed at the statuesque shadow that stood against the departing sun.

Its brawny torso was wrapped in an imperial cloak, its head hidden beneath the royal headdress.

The patterns and colors of his magnificent mantle overshadowed those of generals, priests, and even those of his own progeny.

Every refined stroke and line converged upon the knot which draped over the emperor’s shoulder, its thick and dense fibers weighted the flowing mantle.

Next to the thirsting shrine, the high shaman was silent and unnerving.

A golden mask replaced his face with that of the Xiupotec gates.

Behind his head, a ring of macaw quills formed a scarlet sun.

The helmet’s singular and oversized feather danced with the flames of the altar, as he presented his liege with the sacred tepactl.

“We had been waiting for the young Prince.”

Emperor Moctezoma raised his arms, parting the vast cape which blanketed him from the neck down.

Heavy gold bangles decorated his wrists and ankles, his gilt staff clad with turquoise inlays.

“We can finally breathe as he’s returned triumphant, Exorcised the rebels from the east.”

The emperor stepped before the descending stairway, lifting his golden staff.

Signaling the young prince.

“Prince Cuatemoc arise with your offering, bestow your oblation upon Xiupotec so he may continue to nourish our sun”

Pointing his scepter, bestowing the climbing prince his graceful blessing.

As the prince lumbered to reach the summit, the sweat stung his soaking eyes.

Tlawecoli weighted down on the prince’s lean frame, stifling his legs.

With each step burdened with the exertion of the last, his thighs began to give.

Although somewhat hazy, with his eyelids irritated from the toil, he could clearly make out the iridescent sheen of teal and turquoise from the massive headdress emerging over the end of the rising steps.

The thin but dense plumage fanned atop a series of jade scales.

Each stone, shaved and assembled in intricately crosshatched rows across the band’s surface.

Like a deadly constrictor around its prey, the embroidered strap swathed the emperor’s head.

Below the diamond scales, a thick gold plate lined the leader’s brow.

Shards of rubies and emeralds beaded the square grooves etched upon its surface.

A solid emblem of Xiupotec embellished his father’s neck, its screaming mouth lined with carved pearls.

A few more steps and he could now see the burning fumes erupting from the green chalices, their roaring fires framed an exquisite obsidian panther, its flat wide back forming the sacrificial bed.

The statue sculpted from an immaculate ore of carbonado.

Its polished feline body glistened with the ambient torches, like copper halos, rings danced upon its ebony coat, the black crystal inlaid with an intricate web of prisms.

Emperor Moctezoma’s smile could not mask his disillusion, his eyes avoided the young prince, in an attempt to manage the rage.

“The legends are true then. The beast of Laxcal is not just a wives’ tale after all.”

His disappointment was as evident as the mangled leg on the legendary Tlawecoli.

“The Laxcal head-splitter, The insatiable Zinican, The beast of the east villagers cry! brouhahahaha!!!”

Moctezoma exploded with jubilant laughter as he paced toward Tlawecoli.

“I must admit I found the tales just as fascinating as my grandchildren. The tales of how you trounced my men, had me like a toddler eager at the next fable from the ‘beast of the east’.” The warmth of compassion filled the boisterous emperor.

He patted Tlawecoli on the shoulder.

Awkward clemency stirred within.

The amity in his eyes and the fleeting chuckles from his people were inconceivable on such an occasion.

“As real as the ‘beast’ might be, he is simply a boy.”

Emperor Moctezoma placed his palm out.

“A young Mezan no older than my foolish son.”

Without a single utterance, he ordered his priest to relieve him of the resting dagger.

Gasps spread throughout the courtyards.

“A young Mezan who has attained more glory than most my men. Sowed prestige of such voracity, that Mezax finest cowered at the chance to prove their courage.”

Reluctant chuckles sprouted amongst the spectators.

“This will not do. Mezans revere such valiance. We reward champions. Honor their service.”

He turned to his subjects, his cape swung back, and once again lifted his arms.

“To kill such a legend. Such a prodigal son of our empire.”

The emperor glanced back for a moment, smiling at the exhausted Tlawecoli.

“To sacrifice such a Magnificent fierce Mezan would be blasphemy to our father and giver.”

The emperor turned back once more.

Swiftly he lifted his scepter, and the emperor’s bulging arms readied their swing.

His staff’s feather-shaped gems refracted the flaming glow, their razor-sharp edges disguised between their facets.

Emperor Moctezoma’s stroke came down upon Tlawecoli.

He did not flinch.

His proud chin never wavered from its lofty height.

One stroke and the dense binds slumped to the floor.

A wave of reluctant cheers bubbled between the churning crowds.

“This barbaric practice.”

The emperor turned back to his people. His voice from the summit of the temple resonated over his people.

“We will no longer abide by…”

The shaman near the altar stiffened at the announcement.

Turning to look at the prince.

Cuatemoc panicked stare turned back to his father.

“From today on we will honor our soldiers.”

Moctezoma’s gleeful smile continued.

“Starting today we will only worship as the sacred mother chooses.”

Extending his arm palm upwards, directing his gentry to bring forth what he wished.

The rows of guards parted along the trail leading to the steps of the pyramid.

A small girl with shoulder-length hair, its jet color highlighting her tanned skin

In her arms was a pink salamander half her size, its whiskers fluffed with feelers along their length.

Spectators stood in shock, others in excitement; both in disbelief.

“Majesty…but centuries of tradi-”

The shaman warned.

“I am not your majesty…paleface.”

Moctezoma corrected the insolent underling.

“I am a speaker of the people, and they have chosen.”

“Come forth Atlanantzin, Child of Teoeztli”

Her lightweight eased her quick steps up the pyramid.

Once reaching the top, she joined the patient emperor.

“Hwey Tat-wani.”

Her tiny voice sang.

The emperor’s eyes widened in embarrassment.

“No no, my child, that is not your obligation. "

He swiftly stood her up half into her curtsying.

“Please child, heal this brave soldier wounded by my careless son.”

The girl walked up to Tlawecoli as he leaned into the panther’s statue.

At under four feet, Atlanantzin could barely reach his forearm.

Tugging at his arm.

“He too tall to pet.”

She looked back at Moctezoma.

“Kneel before her Zini- I mean Tlawecoli”

The emperor corrected his mistake.

As the wounded man leaned to the floor, bowing his head into Atlanantzin's reach, the prince’s rage vomited forth.

“But…but fath- this…this was MY AAAAASCENSION!!!”

Prince Cuatemoc swung Tlawecoli against the ritual table.

"AAARGH!"

His leg struck the panther shrine.

Causing the dowsed bandages to splatter across the altar grounds.

Each of his breaths marinated with the taste of iron.

“HE is my reward!”

The prince pounded his chest.

“MY prize, MY VICTORY!”

In an attempt to snatch the imperial tepactl, Cuatemoc clawed towards the priest, his startled hands fumbling the knife.

“GIVE IT TO ME!”

He shouted as he shoved him away.

The mask of the witch doctor flew off, revealing his white face.

His green eyes, framed by his blond hair.

As the prince’s hand raced for the catch, Emperor Moctezoma seized his child’s wrist, yanking him face to face.

Although a man half a century old, his physique was as prime as any adolescent of the great imperial guard.

Even more so.

To lead is to be an example, he believed.

His muscular frame dominated the prince of half his experience.

The sun now half sunk in the edge of the world.

Skies as bloody as the ceremonies of the night they illuminated.

“These are my men, and so is every victory they manage to win.”

The emperor’s voice deepened.

His tone was stern and commanding.

“You didn’t catch him.

I did.

OUR citizens did.

THE KINGDOM did.

Not an insolent BOY.”

The king swung his son’s arm away.

“Not a deplorable excuse for a soldier, one who taints the throne of our father with a half-slaughtered lamb expecting TITLE AND CROWN!”

Silence swallowed the audience.

Only the purling of trickling streams and songs of flourishing animals warbled over the city.

"WHEEEeeeze…wheeze.”

Tlawecoli lifted his weight against his wailing injuries, as he scrambled up the panther’s back.

His arm shook, holding up the dagger he managed to swindle during the commotion.

The sun had completely submerged, Gone.

Absolute darkness would have swallowed the land if not for the raging fires that cluttered the temple’s reaches.

With the blazing pyres illuminating the summit in a hellish glow.

“Even Xiupotec has granted me divine providence.”

Cuatemoc’s hand was directed at the empty horizon, as he preached with spectacle.

“The Zinican's heart must feed his fire OR we die as the ashes burn into the night.”

He unsheathed his bow, as he reached for his arrows.

In a flash, he lined up Tlawecoli to his sights.

“YOU have broken the edict of Xiupotec with your hubris and heresy. Our giver does not desire such pittance.”

The emperor stepped between the warriors.

Tlawecoli shook, his body exhausted, his mind delirious.

The prince’s anxiety rattled his core, his hands unsteady at the prospects of his father’s demise at his hands, but also at his own end at the tip of the guard’s spears.

Crowds roared, some with vindication, others with condemnation.

"Cuatemo-"

PFOOOOOM

A blinding flash fulminated the black sky.

Bleaching everything into complete whiteness.

The loud yet inaudible explosion perturbed the land.

Every building quaked with the aftershock of the heavens.

Whether beast or man, from civilian to soldier, every being felt the berth of Quetzulkankotl.

"AAAAAAAAAH!!!"

"Nanzine!"

Around the entire camp of people, random children began screaming, holding their heads tightly between their palms.

Slowly it seemed to spread to most of the other younglings.

Over the sky blinding missiles of light struck the land.

Around the city, a massive force field erected, as the explosions rushed toward the city.

The enormous explosions razed everything beyond the safety of the capitol grounds.

over the distance of the dessert, flashing even in the mountain ranges across the north.

That is how the story of the savage age came to an end.

Slain by the rise of Quetzulkankotl and with it the deliverance of the sixth sun.