Quetzalcoatl

The ancient prophecy will come true he will return the morning and evening star raise steps up to the heavens he returns from across the impossible sea king and prince creator of the universe the union of sky and land where the divine meets the physical the feathered serpent god we must sacrifice to the undying god

Zuhixtli looked down upon the prisoners, brought back by the latest Garland War. He watched them file, defeated, up the steps of the Pyramid of the Quetzalcoatl, stripped of their feathers and armour. The priests continued the ceremony with great solemnity, opening their chests and removing the pulsing hearts with serene elegance. The screams of the dying fell gently over the watching populace, and blood soaked down the temple's plastered steps.

He handled his macana proudly, glad to be a warrior of the temple. Under his gaze, the prisoners were cowed and accepting of their fate. But it was a good fate- they died so the world would live. Only constant sacrifice would keep the sun in the sky and the primordial in the dark, deep places of the universe. For a moment, he contemplated failure- and shuddered. There was no horror in sacrifice, but in annihilation, reduction to chaos, only the madman could find hope.

The sacrifices no longer filled the streets- the priests always managed this with the greatest efficiency. The last few waited patiently on the temple's front, chains around the necks, despairing and empty.

Perhaps these warriors had wives, children, parents that depended upon them. But the community could look after them- always, they would leave enough men to care for the population. They culled the weak, strengthening the peoples from which sacrifices were drawn. They would need good warriors, as despite the offerings, the end would come- it was just postponed by their efforts.

Auehmoc came up behind him.

"Brother, the ceremony is almost over. But dark portents have been seen in the city."

"What has been seen, brother Auehmoc?"

"They say a fire spread over the great lake Texcoco, and a blazing shape was seen in the sky like a head of corn, that outshone the evening star as it travelled through the heavens. A two-faced man stood by the temple and a woman could be heard weeping in the streets, though there was no-one there."

Zuhixtli's eyes widened in alarm. "Then it is true. The year is One Reed- this is that year in which he said he would return. It is the year when Xochitl reminds us that life, like the flower, is beautiful but quickly fades. Quetzalcoatl is coming."