The night was young and the moon was about to rise. Quetzalcoatl was, for the past week, planning everything he needed to do. The time for his death was near. He knew exactly what he was doing. He prepared for everything in advance months before it would take place. Quetzalcoatl could foresee the future since he was the god of time. Ironic how he was running out of what he should have been able to control. But everything must come to end, no matter how much you try to escape. By asking the snakes and the rats to keep word for him, he knew that his followers would be able to rely on the animals for information and details regarding the fate of the people. He had to leave; he had to. The new god had to rise and take his place; for if the new god doesn’t, every surviving mortal will be enslaved.

Yet, no one knew exactly why he was asking them for such a big favor. What was he going to plan to do with the sacrificial stone and a thousand obsidian blades with red bloodstains spilled on top of it? Quetzalcoatl couldn’t tell them. He could tell and rely on no one. The solar eclipse had to occur and Quetzalcoatl had to leave at the beginning of the eclipse.

With every passing moment, Quetzalcoatl could feel his heart rate accelerate as his veins pumped throughout his entire body. As a god, one figures that death shouldn’t be this ominous. But in the face of death, every man is the same regardless of class, social status, or opinions.

“Quetzalcoatl, the eclipse is about to occur.” Said the servant in front of him.

“Thank you.” He turned around to leave but as he did Quetzalcoatl noticed his chosen warrior was standing proudly in front of his lord. The warrior was doing a good job trying to hide his sorrow. He was responsible for retrieving the new god. He, Quetzalcoatl, didn’t matter now. He was about to go and his already chosen god will arise when the people would be at their lowest point.

The warrior escorted Quetzalcoatl all the way to the alter where the heavenly court was waiting; waiting to witness the death. He gathered all of his strength to send his memories and his mistakes to the future god who would not receive the information until their transformation was complete. That god had to survive for humanity to thrive and survive.

Take care of them, he whispered. The court came to a verdict. Quetzalcoatl would die for treason of the people sown on earth. All the other gods were watching.

He was then brought to a stand where the sacrificial tube awaited him. His soul would rest in Xibalba, the underworld, but his body would dissolve into ash. The warrior raised the sword and struck the heart. Quetzalcoatl was never to be a god again.