Blood & Fur

Chapter Fifty: The Legion of the Dead

Riding on a trihorn’s back proved to be an interesting experience.

Namely, my mount tried to throw me off its back thrice, attempted to impale me twice, and then nearly ran away from the training grounds. I had to wrestle with it for a good hour before it lost the will to fight and finally accepted me as its rider.

After my trial in the House of Jaguars, I found it almost cathartic.

I blamed Itzili’s presence for my mount’s behavior. As it turned out, herbivores tended to panic in the presence of their usual predator.

“I warned our Lord Emperor against this,” Chikal said as she rode by my side across the imperial gardens. Unlike my own mount, her own trihorn behaved with disciplined obedience. “It would have been easier to keep Itzili away from the trihorns. Tamed or not, prey never ceases to fear its predator.”

The House of Jaguars begged to differ. “All beasts are welcome to fear Itzili,” I replied as my trihorn trampled the grass under its feet. “So long as they serve me.”

Ingrid, who graciously rode her own mount to my left, immediately came to my rescue. “My lord is wise to teach his army’s beasts of battle not to flee in his feathered tyrant’s presence,” she said. “It would be quite the shame if they panicked and trampled our own troops.”

“True,” Chikal conceded her point. “Though I would suggest against our Lord Emperor letting a wild animal run around without supervision.”

“Itzili does not need any,” I replied, though I did take a good look at him. My feathered tyrant was finally starting to realize that being too close to the trihorns spooked them, so he followed us from a distance. If anything, that somehow made him seem more intimidating. My pet possessed the lean, frightful frame of a predator on the prowl.

I pity the servant who will cross his path at night. I had granted Itzili special permission to wander outside his pen; a situation that frightened both my other pets and staff alike. I half-expected my feathered tyrant to make a scene, such as by breaking into another animal’s pen to eat them, but he proved surprisingly discreet. He’s about as cautious as I am.

“The pet shares the master’s hatred,” the wind whispered ominously in my ear. “Many will fall to and fear his jaws. Can you hear it? The gnashing of teeth on human flesh…”

I could live with that, so long as that flesh belonged to red-eyed priests.

“The hunter’s mouth does not discriminate,” the wind replied. “A giant’s feet will trample the houses of the damned and the innocent alike.”

“Don’t your people tame predators?” Ingrid asked Chikal. “I remember that an amazon queen famously fed her lifelong rival to her pet jaguar.”

“We often tame panthers and jaguars for hunts, but we always keep them on a short leash,” Chikal replied. “The wise do not invite into their home a guest that they cannot put down. Why would a giant take orders from an ant?”

“Because the giant is wise enough to listen,” I said.

My answer amused Ingrid and caused Chikal to raise an eyebrow at me. I could tell that they both understood I was up to something with Itzili, though they couldn’t tell what yet. Chikal already asked me early during combat training if my pet’s presence was meant to ‘bring me luck,’ so she probably expected a supernatural explanation.

I wished I could tell them my plan, but if I hoped to convince Iztacoatl of my act then I couldn’t break character at any point. Feigning an irrational attachment to my feathered tyrant was an exhausting job, but one to which I had to stay true to.

I temporarily banished Itzili from my thoughts to focus on my posture. While Itzili wasn’t yet large enough to support my weight on his back, Chikal decided I would need training if I ever hoped to ride him without embarrassing myself. Her training proved her right. Riding on an animal’s back was hard enough, let alone with weapons.

For today’s lesson, I rode my trihorn with a hardwood shield in one hand and an obsidian-tipped spear in the other. I struggled a bit to manage and balance their weight. The spear’s tip kept pointing down, so I had to put extra effort into keeping it wieldy. I dared not imagine the effort a full charge would require.

Ingrid smiled at my struggle. “My lord shouldn’t be too hard on himself. Few manage to ride a trihorn on their first try. I would say you’re doing very well.”

“Less than you, Ingrid,” I replied. My consort rode her own trihorn with utmost grace, to the point that Chikal had her fire arrows at targets while sitting on her beast’s back. “Perhaps we should ride together. I would command our allies, and you would strike down our foes with your arrows.”

“I would love to ride at my lord’s back, if he wishes,” Ingrid replied.

Chikal immediately shot down the idea. “A good commander learns to fight by himself so he can lead by example. Our Lord Emperor must ride perfectly first before he can entertain a companion.”

“Fair enough,” I replied before glancing at my surroundings. I didn’t see any snakes in my gardens’ grass, and I expected Itzili to trample any who dared to sneak up on us underfoot. My guards followed us on foot and remained out of earshot.

I considered casting an Augury and having the wind cover our discussion as it did once with Chikal, but I decided against it. What if Iztacoatl had spies who could read my lips? A sorceress of her caliber might intercept our whispers too. Better be safe than sorry.

“I have a question for you, Chikal,” I said. “How would you tell a foe wearing a friend’s face from the real one?”

Chikal raised an eyebrow. “How would I identify a skinwalker?”

“A skinwalker?” I didn’t recognize the term, though it sounded vaguely familiar. “What’s that?”

“A cursed shapeshifter and thief of faces. They are vile shamans who consume human flesh to strengthen their power, and bind themselves to half-lives of fear and evil in the process.” Chikal’s expression darkened. “They are more common in the Three-Rivers Federation to the north, but a few haunt our jungle’s darkest woods.”

Her wary tone surprised me. “Are you frightened, Chikal?”

“Only a fool does not fear the skinwalkers, my Lord Emperor,” Chikal replied with a dark look. Something in her tone informed me that she spoke from experience. “They are demons who steal the skin of friends to commit heinous deeds. They possess the strength of savage beasts and a man’s cunning.”

“Why is my lord so concerned?” Ingrid asked me.

“I’ve had a nightmare where a beast came to me under the guise of a friend.” It wasn’t a lie. Meeting Sigrun’s shambling corpse had been a horror straight out of a dark dream. “I fear it will happen in the waking world too.”

Chikal quickly caught on to my warning. “Our Lord Emperor has already ridden by an enemy’s side once,” she said, subtly referencing the false Eztli. “To identify a Skinwalker is no different. They know their victim’s flesh, but not their soul.”

“Some say that a person’s soul is shaped by their deeds,” Ingrid replied evasively. “A fisherman is a fisherman because they hunt fish for a living. No imposter can tie a net better than them.”

I could read her message between the lines: we should establish telltale signs for each of us. A subtle routine that no observer could easily pick up on and that we could use as a way to trick a body double.

“What makes you Ingrid, Ingrid?” I asked her.

“My lord already knows,” she replied sharply. Such things weren’t said out loud, but shown. “I will be sure to remind you and Chikal.”

Chikal’s stare traveled from Ingrid to me. I considered her the sharpest among my consorts, so I had no doubt that she already figured out our plan. However, she wisely decided to focus the discussion back on its false subject rather than risk being overheard.

“My younger cousin, Lahun, would tell you more about Skinwalkers, if Your Majesty wishes it,” Chikal said. “She is a storyteller and shaman well-versed in the lore of our people. Our Lord Emperor will appreciate her company.”

“I have heard of this Lahun,” Ingrid said. “She is a pretty young woman. I would say my lord would find her most agreeable.”

Chikal snorted. “Our Lord Emperor will find her lacking after satisfying my needs. She is wise though, and I regularly consult her for advice.”

Excellent. I would soon make a concubine of this Lahun and use her as an intermediary to communicate with Chikal when needed. This only left Nenetl as a consort in need of a handmaiden representative, but we would find someone.

By the time we reached the gardens’ edge, the sun was slowly starting to vanish behind the horizon. Seeing the incoming twilight filled me with a dreadful sensation of unease. The Parliament of Skulls warned me earlier that the First Emperor’s power would sow terror tonight. I could feel his dark touch in the air.

“Do you hear the starved dead rattling in their tombs?” the wind whispered to me. “Bloodstarved worms wriggle in dead flesh. Soon they will rise to satiate their hunger.”

I had a good idea of what disaster would befall the empire tonight. I considered my options. Yohuachanca had already brought the corpses of the bats’ victims to their temples, so an undead outbreak would harm their priests, bleeding my foes’ resources; on the other hand, warning them ahead of time would reinforce my prophet image. It would lull the likes of the Jaguar Woman into believing that they could control me. Not warning them would have the opposite effect and perhaps reawaken her suspicions.

Considering my last interaction with Iztacoatl, I decided to play it safe and muddle the waters by sending conflicting messages.

“Argh…” I pretended to suddenly grunt in pain, my hand dropping my spear. “Argh…”

“My lord?” Ingrid’s eyes widened in sudden and genuine concern. Chikal alone observed me with these calculating eyes.

“Argh!” Pretending to suffer came easily to me after all I went through. I dropped my shield and reached for my head with both hands, my nails sinking into my flesh. “Argh!”

Then I fell off my trihorn.

I would have loved to say that part was an act, but no; my scream of pain simply spooked my mount until it threw me off its back and onto a bed of flowers. Itzili let out a roar that alerted the guards. Ingrid immediately climbed off her mount while calling my name, but Chikal was quicker. She grabbed me in her strong hands and immediately helped me on my feet.

“Are you having a seizure?” she asked, snapping her fingers in front of me. I wondered if this happened often enough among amazons for them to develop a procedure. “Take a deep breath. Can you stand at all?”

“It’s… fine…” I replied, my breath heavy from the sudden fall. The pain from being thrown off a trihorn was nothing compared to what I had already gone through, but it did leave me winded enough. “I saw… when I looked at the sun… I saw something…”

Chikal’s gaze sharpened. “A vision?”

“I… I think so,” I replied. Itzili immediately reached my side and nuzzled my hand, as if to check on me. I gently pat him on the head for his trouble. “It was… awful.”

Ingrid scowled in worry. After seeing the First Emperor possess me earlier, she didn’t dare question me. “What did my lord see?”

“I witnessed the dead devour the living and silencing our towns. The bloodstarved corpses of the faithless emerged from their graves at sunset to feast.” I pushed Chikal back, a hand holding my forehead. “I fear a great darkness will soon be upon us.”

I had no guarantee that my false vision would unfold. The wind could have lied to me and the Parliament’s hunch could be incorrect, yet I believed otherwise. The aura of malice in the air reminded me of the ambient doom that preceded Smoke Mountain’s eruption.

If the dead did not rise, I would simply lie and take the credit; saying that my emergency measures and the faith we showed appeased the heavens’ wrath.

A prophet could never be wrong, only misinterpreted.

It said something about the Nightlords’ fear of their Dark Father that they immediately dispatched Tayatzin to interrogate me.

The red-eyed priest arrived within five minutes of my fall alongside a scribe to record my vision, without either Ingrid or Chikal informing them of it. This only confirmed that Iztacoatl had a way to overhear us at any time within the palace. Itzili found no snake spy, so she had to use a different method to monitor my actions. Could it be a spell or something more mundane?

I had no way of telling yet, though at least I’d forced her to tip her hand.

“This is a most grievous omen, Your Majesty,” Tayatzin said after his scribe finished recording my lies. “The corpses of the faithless fools who did follow imperial traditions during the eruption have been safely stored, but we will keep a closer eye on them.”

“I pray for all of our sake that my vision was only metaphorical,” I replied without meaning any of it. This would give me plausible deniability. “My head still hurts a bit.”

“Would Your Majesty request a physician?”

“My Necahual will do,” I replied. “I will go visit her.”

“As befitting of her new rank, Lady Necahual was granted her own quarters,” Tayatzin replied. “However, Lady Eztli asked that we transfer her to her own private chambers.”

I raised an eyebrow. It made sense that Eztli would invite Necahual to her quarters now that Yoloxochitl no longer stood between them. Sigrun did share her jail with the rest of her family.

However, I had never visited Eztli’s quarters in the palace. I half-expected a crypt befitting of her vampiric nature, but somehow I doubted Necahual would feel at ease in such a place.

“I will visit them both then,” I replied. “Keep me informed about the… other matter."

“We will take care of everything,” Tayatzin promised with a short bow. “If I may, Your Majesty, would you kindly offer me a private audience tomorrow morning?”

A private audience? That was new. None of my red-eyed advisors ever asked me for one. “On what matter?”

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“Your wise decision to have Tlaxcala and Lady Zyanya marry has inspired an idea for a reform,” Tayatzin replied, while being very careful to avoid offending me. “One which I hope you shall find grace in your eyes.”

Interesting. Sigrun warned me that Tayatzin was more ambitious and forward-minded than other priests. I wondered what kind of plan had crossed his mind. It wouldn’t hurt to listen.

“Very well,” I decided. “You will share a breakfast with me before the general meeting.”

“Your Divine Majesty’s generosity honors me.” Tayatzin knelt before me, a small smile forming at the edge of his lips. “I swear that I shall not waste your time.”

I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and then moved to visit Eztli’s quarters in the palace’s eastern wing; an interesting location, considering that Iztacoatl occupied the western one. My consort already started to hold sway over Yoloxochitl’s old cardinal direction.

As it turned out, Eztli enjoyed divine levels of luxury too.

I left the guards at the door and entered a breathtakingly beautiful antechamber. Jeweled statues, cotton curtains, and countless precious rugs covered most of the gleaming floorboards. Wood statues of masked soldiers stood with spears along the walls, each of them crowned with a shining brasero providing light.

“Come in, Iztac,” Eztli’s voice called from deeper inside the quarters. “I was just about to finish watering my new plants.”

Plants? I took in a deep breath and inhaled the sweet aroma of a dozen different flowers. Eztli loved to tend to her garden. She and her mother had that in common.

I walked ahead and found Eztli in a majestic circular hall of gold pillars carved with leaf-shaped inscriptions. Three layers of terraced flower gardens formed a circle around the room. Beds of orchids and poinsettias joined with bouquets of marigolds into a colorful display. Other areas housed the kind of medical plants that Necahual used to gather in Acampa’s forests for her potions.

The southern corner led to another chamber housing an enormous bed draped with cotton coverlets and adorned with emeralds. To the north, another room housed what appeared to be an apothecary’s laboratory filled with glass bottles, poultice bowls, and cauldrons. Necahual was busy mixing an herbal potion on a wooden counter. She didn’t pay me any mind.

“What do you think of the floral composition, Iztac?” Eztli asked me as she watered the flowers with a clay vase. “Should I put more orchids with the marigold?”

“I would prefer more red,” I replied after examining the flowers more closely. A few of them appeared to have been plucked from my gardens, but I didn’t recognize a few others. “When did you start building up such a collection?”

“Since I arrived. This palace has too many dead stones and not enough life in it, if you ask me.”

Her words caused me to look around and notice a certain detail: namely, Eztli’s quarters lacked windows. I couldn’t see even a single obsidian panel that would allow even a vampire to gaze at the world outside without fearing the sun. These chambers might as well have been an underground crypt.

I supposed it made sense for a vampire’s home… but then I thought back to that moment when I caught Ezt looking at the coming sun with immense despair.

Did Yoloxochitl assign her these quarters to avoid an… incident?

Eztli set her clay vase aside and put her arms around my neck. “You didn’t bring Itzili with you?”

“My staff is feeding him as we speak.” I wondered if I should start giving him my own table scraps, or even let him join me during breakfast alongside my consorts. I decided against putting on such a show for now. The mummery would be too obvious. “He is almost as ravenous as a hundred men put together.”

“So am I,” Eztli replied before briefly kissing me on the neck. “I love the taste of human flesh too.”

Her grim wording both amused and unsettled me all at once. I knew she was merely joking, but still…

“I believe His Majesty came for me, Eztli,” Necahual said upon joining us, a cup of herbal potion in her hand. “This should ease the aches of your training.”

“Does it ease the pain of the mind too?” I asked upon seizing the cup. The liquid was steamingly hot and bitter to the taste.

“It should,” Necahual replied with a quizzical look. “Does something trouble you?”

“He has sensed it too, Mother,” Eztli explained, her fair face twisting into a frown. “Tonight will be dark and full of terrors.”

It didn’t surprise me that Eztli would notice it too. She had witnessed the ritual on Smoke Mountain and was bound to the First Emperor by the vampiric curse.

“I’ve had a dreadful vision,” I said. “Of the dead devouring the living.”

“Well, I don’t see any corpses in here,” Eztli replied with a dismissive shrug. Either she knew I was lying through my teeth or she simply didn’t care what disaster the Nightlords’ arrogance unleashed on Yohuachanca. “How about we speak of lighter things? Do you have new training scars to show us?”

I scoffed. Chikal didn’t coddle me, but she wasn’t too brutal of a trainer either. “Not yet. I have bruises though.”

“Good thing that you come to visit a healer then,” Eztli mused, while Necahual looked away. She knew very well that my headache and training fatigue were a mere excuse to come practice Seidr with her. “If you would kindly lay on the bed and remove those heavy clothes of yours.”

A few minutes later, I found myself sitting naked on Eztli’s bed with the daughter and mother on each side. It was quite a comfortable mattress; if anything, it felt slightly underused. I guessed that Eztli didn’t sleep here often, if at all.

Did vampires even need to rest? They cowered from the sun during the day, but the gift of dreaming might be beyond their undead reach.

“My, my…” Eztli muttered to herself upon applying a poultice to my bruised abs. They were small and only started to develop recently, but it astonished me to have any at all after spending so many years of life being frail and scrawny. Good nutrition and constant exercise did wonders for the human body. “I like what I see… you are nicely coming into shape, Iztac.”

“Battle fills me with energy,” I replied. The House of Jaguars had taught me that. “I have much left to give.”

“Do you hear that, Mother?” Eztli turned in Necahual’s direction. “He needs another private lesson.”

Necahual looked away. “It would be best if you left us, Eztli.”

“Why would I?” Eztli gave her mother a puzzled look. “We’ve both shared his bed. I could assist you.”

Necahual winced at her daughter’s answer. “I do not feel comfortable serving the emperor in my daughter’s presence,” she said, shifting in place. “It fills me with unease.”

Eztli raised an eyebrow. She appeared genuinely surprised by her mother’s reluctance.

“Strange,” Eztli muttered to herself. “I thought it would make it easier.”

Her answer and unnatural reaction reminded me of how much the curse had diminished her. It had robbed Eztli of part of her humanity. She cared for her mother, but she struggled to understand her.

“Take your time then,” Eztli said upon hopping out of the bed. “I will keep myself busy in the meantime.”

Necahual watched Eztli exit the bedroom with a heavy gaze. I pitied her a bit. Her daughter had finally returned to her, but changed in ways big and small.

“Are you well?” I asked her with some concern.

Necahual met my gaze, her expression softening. “I am glad that she returned to me. That is all that matters to me.”

Was that gratitude I saw in her gaze? She couldn’t thank me openly in case a spy overheard us, but Necahual clearly felt that she owed me for reuniting her with Eztli. Something that probably drove her mad.

Nonetheless, she showed no frustration nor regrets when she removed her robes and let them drop to the floor. My gaze lingered on her bosom and naked hips. My mother-in-law was fleshier than her daughter for certain, albeit with little of Eztli’s own confidence.

“Is something wrong?” I inquired.

“This is my daughter’s bed,” Necahual replied.

I scoffed. “Good,” I said, pointing at my lap. “Get over there.”

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Necahual glared at me, but obeyed my order nonetheless. She reluctantly climbed on my lap, her knees on each of my sides.

Shameful as it sounded, I found it arousing to see her submit to me while knowing that I would likely bed Eztli next. She had spent the years I spent in her household throwing stones at me whenever I grew too close to Eztli for her comfort, and now I would take her bed. Sick as it sounded, I never grew tired of these small humiliations.

Necahual glared at my erect manhood, her gratitude replaced with annoyance. “You find this funny?”

“Yes, I do.” I solidly grabbed her hips with my hands, which drew a startled cry from her. “Get used to it.”

Necahual clenched her jaw, her hands settling on my shoulders as I pulled her down. She moaned when I penetrated her. I tightened my grip on her hips, laying claim to her flesh and body.

“Did you like the flowers I sent you?” I asked her after letting out a breath of pleasure.

Necahual scoffed in disdain. “You think you can buy me?”

“Why would I?” I leaned in to kiss her. “When I already own you?”

I forced my lips on her own and began to thrust at the same time. The bed bounced under us as we settled on a steady rhythm. Necahual began to match me, pushing my lips back to regain a measure of control and adjusting her position to better ride me. She let out cries of pain and pleasure when I bit her breast and kissed her sweating neck.

She was getting used to this.

No matter how much she pretended otherwise, her body and kisses told me that she enjoyed our Seidr unions as much as she loathed them; or perhaps she hated them because it gave her pleasure. Only through me could she caress the power she envied Mother for.

I enjoyed it too. Owning her, embracing her, filling her. I would do it even without Seidr involved.

Should I let her go one day? Chikal asked me what I would do once I destroyed the Nightlords. I had only a vague idea yet. I would likely marry Eztli properly, but I hadn’t given too much thought to her mother yet. She promised me her body and soul if I returned her daughter to me and taught her magic… I’ve already fulfilled my part…

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Our heart-fires aligned together in a perverse thrill.

The Seidr vision came to me in a flash; the sight of winding tunnels connecting underground mushroom caves to a hospice’s offices and quarantined halls. The information filling our minds was blurry enough, but I managed to gain a rough sense of the place’s layout.

I gasped upon returning to reality in Necahual’s arms. My mother-in-law was sweating, her breath heavy from our lovemaking. She felt heavy on my lap, a stain of seed dripping down her hole.

“Up for one more, Iztac?” Eztli called out to us from outside the bedroom. “I am growing thirsty.”

She was indeed ravenous.

I faded to sleep in Eztli’s arms. To add insult to Necahual’s injury, I did so in the latter’s bed.

At least our Seidr session worked well enough. I had obtained a rough mental map of Yoloxochitl’s underground facility. I could begin to carry out my plans to destroy the garden once Ingrid provided me with the public area’s layout and the necessary supplies.

But that would wait for another day. Another task would occupy my attention tonight.

I was used to the sight of Xibalba’s crossroads by now. Four, mist-filled archways stood in each of the four cardinal directions under a gloomy gray sky. Had I not known I had just triumphed over the House of Jaguars, I would have thought I hadn’t progressed an inch.

The sight of Xibalba’s dark pyramid looming in the distance attested otherwise, since it appeared closer to my position than on my last visit. I was halfway through the city’s trials. Three more houses awaited me.

Yet I did not move an inch towards any of the gates.

I stood in their midst for a moment, my eyes closed and my power turned inward. I had spent the last few days upstairs slowly building up my bone reserves. I harvested everything I could from my palace’s precious food and stored it in my ribs. I believed I had enough for my purpose.

I cast Bonecraft and opened my palm. I drew upon my ribs and cannibalized them to grow new bones from between my fingers: a tiny skull with empty eyes and crooked teeth.

I hope that this spell does not include a size requirement. I lacked the resources to create too many adult skulls, so I settled on creating a baby-sized one as an experiment. It easily fit between my fingers. Only one way to find out.

“Iztac Ce Ehecatl,” I whispered my name into the skull as the spell demanded. “Lost souls, I offer you this empty vessel crafted from my own bones to join your Legion of skulls. I beckon thee from the depths of the Underworld. Come to me.”

The chains holding my heart-fire reverberated with power. My Legion spell echoed through the curse binding the generations of emperors to the Nightlords’ vile ritual. The mere fact that the spell triggered at all filled me with hope.

For the briefest of instant, I existed in many places at once. My limited mind joined a great collective of bones bound by their cursed souls.

I was myself, a Tlacatecolotl wandering the streets and halls of Xibalba, the House of Fright. I was a sleeping shell of flesh in a woman’s arms trapped in a dreamless slumber. I was a being with a thousand eyes trapped in a dark prison set between two worlds, cursed to sit on the threshold, facing darkness on both sides.

My brain burned inside my own skull. A man wasn’t born to see with more than two eyes, and not even spiders had no more than eight. So many angles and such a limited ability to process it all.

I received a taste of my future should I fail to defeat the Nightlords: an impotent piece in a prison of souls, struggling to maintain a shred of individuality in the raging sea of an ancient collective. Were my predecessors not bound to their reliquary and their spirits to the Underworld’s doorstep, then I would have lost my mind on the spot.

I managed to wrestle my spirit back from the Parliament’s prison and return to Xibalba, slightly spooked but fully myself once again. A single skull faced me with shining eyes filled with ghostly flames.

“Our successor?” it whispered with a single, small voice. There was a tone I’d never heard coming from the Parliament of Skulls: that of utter surprise. “What… what have you done?”

“Welcome to Xibalba, my predecessors.” My heart swelled with pride at my success. “It is as you said. The curse connects the skulls of past emperors and those I choose to add to the collective.”

A fact that already applied to me.

“We see now… You used Bonecraft to craft a new medium for us to use through our existing connection,” the skull whispered to itself. “To think it would let us communicate so deep into the Underworld…”

“You were a bit too narrow-minded, my predecessors,” I said. “The true advantage of the Legion spell is not its ability to draw a soul into your collective, but to expand it outward beyond the Reliquary.”

“Indeed,” the skull conceded. “You truly are wise, Iztac Ce Ehecatl, to see the unseen option that escaped our notice.”

I accepted their praise with grace. I was extremely pleased with myself. Managing to impress over six-hundred generations of emperors with my sorcery meant that I had greatly progressed as a sorcerer.

Moreover, I no longer needed to visit the Reliquary to receive my elders’ counsel. I could now speak with them safely when I slumbered. This removed a thorn from my foot.

“Is this the House of Fright?” asked the skull, the flames of its eyes wavering. “What a terrible place. We can feel its evil seeping into our bones, but we appreciate the change in scenery.”

“If you do not mind, I would request your help going forward.”

“We will advise you to the best of our ability, though we unfortunately know little of this place.”

“Advice isn’t what I have in mind.” I joined my hands together and cast Bonecraft again. “I would like to put an idea to the test.”

I drew upon my reserves and created five skulls in total; each so small that I could hold all of them in the palm of my hand. I whispered my name into each, though this time I was careful not to let myself be drawn into the soul collective once again. The Parliament managed to possess all of these new vessels nonetheless.

“What is your plan, our successor?” the five skulls whispered all at once, each with a different voice.

“You will see,” I replied with a smile. I kept the first skull I had made by my side on the ground and grabbed the other four. “In more ways than one.”

I whirled on my feet and threw a skull through each of the misty doors. I did so quickly, before the city’s evil spirit could realize what I had in mind. Each of the projectiles vanished behind a foggy veil in an instant.

I swiftly turned at the last one in my possession. “Did you see anything?”

“Yes, our successor,” the fifth skull replied. “We rolled into a dark, crumbling ruin. We hardly caught a glimpse of it before a shadow crushed us.”

“All of you?”

“Yes.” The fifth skull’s empty eyes glowed with ghostlight. “These four doors lead to the same trap’s jaws.”

As I suspected. Xibalba was the House of Fright, and the cruelest dishes were served seasoned with false hopes. Why would this city give me a slim chance of a way out of its torments? Either my Mother lied about her sanctuary or the path didn’t involve any of the gates. And since I can’t fly away, this leaves only one option left.

I looked down at the floor beneath my feet. Ancient stones lay there, built atop the graves of Xibalba’s countless victims. Did this place have crypts hidden underground? Mictlan’s depths did hide an entire maze.

“We must ask why you needed us to tell you anything,” the last skull said. “You should be able to see through our eyes.”

“I fear I will lose myself to the whole if I try.” The mere thought of seeing the world through a thousand eyes caused me a headache. “When I activated the spell for the first time, I felt like a man drowning in a turbulent sea.”

“Your soul is strong, but it cannot resist the spiritual weight of over six hundred ghosts.” The skull let out a pleased rattle. “Do not despair, Iztac. We have high hopes that you will grow strong enough to resist us. Once you have consumed enough godly embers, your sense of self should survive our communion. You may come to share more than just our eyes. No more would we have to teach you anything, for you will simply know.”

I pondered their words. Although I was in no hurry to touch it again, the emperors’ collective represented an immense wellspring of knowledge and spiritual power. I wondered about the potential applications. I had failed to master the Tomb spell yet because I lacked the power required for it, but if I could tap into my predecessors’ spiritual power…

“In any case, if our spell can pierce through the walls of this primeval demon den, then it should work anywhere,” the skull said. “We could observe others on your behalf.”

I shook my head. “I doubt I will find an opportunity to cast it on the surface anytime soon. The Nightlords would wonder where I keep finding all of these baby human skulls.”

“Now it is you who does not see the hidden path.” The Parliament let out a deep chuckle. “A skull can be of any size, nor does it have to look human. It only has to come from you.”

My eyes widened. They had a point. So long as these skulls were crafted from my bones, I could decide their shape at will. I had settled on a baby-sized skull for safety’s sake, but it could be no larger than a thumb.

I would need to run more tests with the Legion spell, but that was for another time. I should focus on trying to reach Mother’s sanctuary first.

I examined the ground with the Gaze and found nothing. A cursory examination of the floor didn’t provide me with any leads either. The stone beneath my feet was smooth and polished with no structural weakness to speak of. I didn’t notice any switch that could unveil a secret passage either.

When intelligence fails, strength usually succeeds. I coated my fist in a layer of bone thicker than any armor and punched the ground with all of my might. The blow reverberated through my arm, though it was the stone alone that cracked. It doesn’t feel as thick as it ought to be.

The floor crumbled with a few more blows. A good fifth of it collapsed into a hole under my feet, opening a dark pit into Xibalba’s depths. I used the Gaze to see into it, but the tunnel went on and on deeper than what my eyes could reach. It was narrow too; barely large enough for me to fall into.

“We doubt that dropping us into this tunnel will do much good,” the Parliament of Skulls warned me. “Considering the depth, this skull is likely to shatter on impact.”

“No need,” I replied. “I already know where it leads.”

I could sense Mother gazing at me from the bottom. She was such a crafty witch.

After all, who in their right mind would look for an owl’s nest underground?