Chapter Seventy-Eight: Rainmaker

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Rainmaker

My heart was a furnace.

My once paltry Teyolia now burned with the intensity of a blazing crucible. Its flames hungrily flowed out of my ribs in waves of searing heat. My veins brimmed with the sunlight of life. I had grown strong enough to crush skulls like grapes or crack stones within my palms. I knew, I had checked. I had grown more agile than a jaguar and gained the acute senses of one. My flesh healed from its wounds far quicker too. My skin knitted itself back together in seconds without leaving a scar.

As for my blood... The purple flames it gave birth to always appeared with flashes of lightning now, like a curse summoned by the heavens’ will. They were no longer small nor weak, hardly able to leave burns on the skin of those I applied them to. They instead endured with the vigor of bright torches. A mortal would likely suffer from heavy wounds at their contact, and a lesser Nightkin would likely turn to dust in an instant. My own skin felt far too warm to the touch, as if I had just gotten out of a hot bath.

I was halfway to becoming a god, and it showed. There was no way I could hide these supernatural occurrences.

However, all of these physical changes paled before the increased power of my spells. I had only begun to test the basic ones, and the results already spoke for themselves.

Tlaloc had allowed me to stay in Tlalocan for as long as I wished under the condition that I did not disturb the souls living there, so I set up shop in an isolated area near the floating island’s edge. I’d set down one of my predecessors’ Bonecrafted skull vessels next to Father under the shadow of a tree alongside my carrying frame, so that they might observe my progress. They both watched in awed silence as I triggered the Blaze and unleashed a mighty fireball into the sky beyond Tlalocan.

Tlaloc had been true to his words. His fiery clouds had started to clear and stopped raining fire upon the poor Burned Men below. Instead, it was now my turn to set the heavens ablaze. I’d been limited to small streams of fire with the Blaze before, but now the purple fireball that erupted from my hand put all my previous displays to shame. An incandescent explosion of searing purple flames wide enough to blast a house apart detonated above the clouds, sending waves of heat at me.

“This is quite encouraging,” my predecessors’ skull vessel muttered with enthusiasm. I sensed their voice rippling through their bones and teeth, the same way Bonecraft granted me a supreme awareness of all of my bones.

I focused on the skull almost on instinct, like a fish suddenly realizing that he could swim. My predecessors floated up in the air and hovered over the grass without any effort on my part, nor with the use of the Doll spell. I only had to think of it and it happened.

Bonecraft now allowed me to manipulate bones when they were outside my body. I tried to do the same with Father’s skull, but sensed no link between us, no reaction of any form. The power only applied to my own skeleton, or skulls shaped from them.

“All of my spells have grown in strength and application,” I noted as I mentally caused the emperors’ skull to land softly on the grass. “I will need time to check them all, and the night is almost spent.”

“Yes,” my predecessors whispered in return. “We have hidden the worst of it, but we suspect the Nightlords may have at least sensed a pulse in your heart-fire. It would be wise to weave a lie and blame the First Emperor once more.”

“Agreed,” I replied, my jaw clenching. “I will not be able to hide these new changes from the Nightlords.”

“You can at least downplay the power you’ve earned,” the Parliament of Skulls advised me. “We have hidden most of the surge behind our spiritual veil. The Nightlords will mistake your heart’s radiance for the north star’s bright glow rather than a young sun.”

“My newfound power will frighten them even if I feign loyalty,” I countered. “They have tried their best to shackle me and their vile father, and yet I wake up stronger. It will give the White Snake a blade to stab me with.”

The past emperors pondered the question for a moment before coming up with a solution. “Then you need to both reassure the Nightlords by reminding them of their leverage, and to redirect their attention on a more pressing threat.”

“Like the Sapa?”

“That would be your wisest option,” my predecessors replied. “You have successfully blamed many setbacks on them. If you can tie them to your burning blood, or even better, the First Emperor’s actions... then all these moving parts and coincidences will become part of a threatening conspiracy against them. A plot whose destruction will remove any danger you might represent to their established order.”

I pondered the suggestion. Yes, my best bet to avoid the Nightlords’ wrath was to both redirect their attention and present them with a false solution to the problem I represented. The strings would have to be subtle so they would not become too visible, but I could think of a story that would at least give me a chance to deceive them.

As for the leverage... I had already shown them the lengths I was willing to go through to save Astrid on Ingrid’s behalf. The Nightlords knew how much I cared for my consorts and concubines. If I reminded the bats of my affection for them, then I could convince them that they still held power over me through them.

“Be warned that your power now far eclipses ours,” the previous emperors said. “We won’t be able to hide your next set of embers from our enemies’ sight. The Nightlords will sense the light of your heart pierce through the ghostly veil of our wailing souls. They will see, and they will know.”

I gave them a sharp nod. I had reached the same conclusion the moment I sensed Tlaloc’s power flow within me. No armor of lies could keep divinity hidden forever. I had to find a way to weaken the Nightlords’ grasp on my soul and prepare for a fight before I obtained the third set of embers.

The prospect of confronting the Nightlords over my sudden surge in power would have filled me with anxiety once, but I found myself keeping a clear head. Yes, I understood that my captors learning of my sorcery and treachery would of course be devastating to my cause. I would do my best to keep the truth to myself.

But I didn’t fear the Nightlords like I used to.

I’d lived through the fear of discovery once in the halls of Xibalba and found an unquenchable well of resolve within myself then. Most importantly, I had faced true deities and seen what the vampire desperately wished to become; the great and terrible forces of nature that they so miserably failed to mimic. None of the Nightlords could hope to measure up to Tlaloc, whose might and confidence ran deep in my veins.

The power to drag them down from their thrones was almost within my grasp. I only had to stall for time until I was ready to fight them on even ground; and then I would teach them how to fear the true gods of the world.

However, while my predecessors did not hide their enthusiasm at my progress, Father had remained eerily silent so far. I could feel his gaze on me at all times, assessing my actions without judging them. I sensed no reproach in him, but something definitively weighed on his mind.

“Father?” I asked softly. “Is there something wrong?”

“I am proud that you negotiated with Tlaloc on behalf of these poor souls below, my son,” Father said with sincere warmth. It filled my heart with relief. “However, it does not alleviate the dread his words inspired. If the divine power which you have gained magnifies what lurks inside your heart...”

“Then he will possess the strength to destroy the vampires,” the emperors replied confidently. “So long as our successor does not lose sight of his righteous quest.”

“But what will define my son’s godhood, Your Majesties?” Father asked grimly. “His righteous goal, or the bloody means he used to reach it?”

The emperors had no answer to those questions; and neither did I.

Father had a point. I had stained my hands with blood, accepted Xibalba’s crown of fear, and embraced the image of the First Emperor’s prophet. Though I only acted in the pursuit of my ultimate goal of destroying the Nightlords, I had sown chaos and death among the living. As far as mortals were concerned, I might as well embody a god of tyranny and brutality.

Would it be my actions that would come to define me, or my intentions? As much as I hoped for the latter, I had learned that the beliefs and perception of mortals had a heavy impact on the divine. The appearances of power mattered just as much as strength itself. In the eyes of many, I was the mad emperor of Yohuachanca, murderous ruler of a land built on bloodshed, and Godspeaker for the hungry masters of the night.

Would the spark of my godhood be tainted from the start?

It was the Lords of Terror’s plan all along. The certainty wouldn’t leave me now. It didn’t matter if my intentions were noble should the role I assumed forced me to play the role of the tyrant and tormentor. Even the First Emperor eventually succumbed to the hunger and suffering he had come to embody in spite of his fearsome resistance. To bring forth a new god of fear into the mortal world.

My father sensed my doubts and attempted to reassure me. “I know you only mean well, my son,” he said calmly. “However, the actions of the powerful are never without consequences, and I fear that you will be crushed under their weight if you continue down your current path. We are our choices.”

“There is still time to adjust our course of action and gather information, Lord Itzili,” the Parliament of Skull insisted. “We have yet to find the key to the next layer, and we must assess the limits of our successor’s new powers. Studying the First Emperor’s codices might provide insight into divinity itself.”

That seemed to be the most sensible course of action so far. I couldn’t allow my godhood to become a prison. I hadn’t sacrificed so much to escape my current cage only to fall into another.

Moreover, this would give Father some time to reconsider his decision to join with my predecessors. Though I knew he would refuse to return to Mictlan or stay in Tlalocan, the idea of binding his soul to them bothered me to my core.

I felt the call of wakefulness tugging at my mind.

“I am about to awaken,” I warned the skulls before putting them inside the carrying frame and using the Doll to dig a hole to bury it. “I don’t think anyone will steal you here, but it is better to be safe than sorry.”

“It has been a long night,” Father conceded with a sigh. “Think about everything, my son. Haste has never been a friend to good decisions.”

“I promise,” I replied softly. I knew I could expect a long discussion about our family and my choices once I fell asleep again.

“Please watch over your sister in my stead,” Father asked softly, his ghostfire eyes wavering in their eye sockets. “She... she should know. Both the truth, and that she’s not alone.”

I clenched my jaw and failed to answer before closing the carrying frame. I barely had time to bury my father and predecessors under a tree before the call of dawn dragged me out of the Underworld.

I awoke changed.

I could feel it the moment I opened my eyes. The energy, the strength, and the warmth flowing through me. My Underworld self was a reflection of my living self, hence why I had to slowly reinforce my skeleton to fuel my Bonecraft spell, but it remained a projection of my soul. I harbored little of my living flesh.

I’d never woken up feeling so powerful.

My heart pounded louder than a war drum in my rib cage. My muscles strained with newfound might. They’d grown thicker since I last fell asleep. The faint touch of the bed sheet had never seemed so sharp, nor the warmth of a woman’s skin so pleasurable. My senses were knives, my skin smooth and imperishable like marble. No impurity survived within my lungs and I exhaled air purer than the wind itself.

I sensed a gaze upon me. Lady Zyanya slept on my left, but Necahual was awake on my right, her eyes studying me carefully. I immediately noticed a few changes. Her skin was lustrous and without imperfections, her breasts firmer, her face radiating health and vitality. She had lost her wrinkles; maybe even a few years of age.

“Did you dream of lightning?” she asked me immediately.

My thundering heart skipped a beat in surprise. I knew I had bound her soul to mine, but had our bond grown so strong? How much did she see? “How do you know that?”

“Because I dreamed of being struck by it, and when I woke up, you were...” Necahual searched for the right word for a moment. “Sharper.”

I supposed ‘sharper’ was a good way to describe the change. I studied my arms and admired my rippling muscles. I clenched my fist and basked in my newfound power. After spending most of my years weak and malnourished, the thrill of growing stronger was almost addictive.

Necahual locked eyes with me. “Something happened in your sleep. I could feel it in my heart and bones.”

“Yes, it did.” I smelled something on Zyanya’s lips; an odor so faint I almost failed to notice it. “You drugged her.”

“I’m surprised you could tell,” Necahual replied with genuine surprise. “I have strengthened sleep’s hold on her with a near-odorless potion. I did not wish for her to raise the alarm should anything unusual happen.”

“Wise.” I wasn’t even surprised that she carried that kind of poison hidden on her person. It helped in a pinch.

“That is how you gained your powers,” Necahual guessed. “Your spirit wanders away in your dreams.”

I clenched my jaw. If she had noticed the pattern, I feared others would see it too. “Do you truly wish to know?”

Necahual hesitated, then shook her head. “I won’t probe further, to avoid any slip-ups.”

“Thank you.” I caressed her cheek, only to sense a small jolt at our contact, like a current of electricity flowing between us. It startled me a bit, much to Necahual’s amusement. “I’m not the only one to have been struck by lightning.”

“It seems so.” Necahual raised her hand and focused on her fingers. I saw faint jolts of electricity coursing between her nails, their blue bright light reminding me immediately of Tlalocan’s sun. “Is this normal for a witch?”

“I suppose.” My predecessors never mentioned that Mometzcopinque could call upon lightning, but I guessed none of those on records had formed a pact with a demigod. Necahual and I were spiritually linked now. The greater my power, the more abilities she would likely obtain. “Are you pleased with your gift?”

My vision ended with a sulfur sun.

I had dangled the most irresistible catch in front of her, greater than the possibility of ultimate victory: the possibility that she could wash away the insult that represented the New Fire Ceremony’s fiasco; that she could somehow salvage the failed ritual she worked so hard to complete, if only she could figure it out.

Sugey studied the cup of burning blood I’d so kindly shed for them. “How do you explain this, sisters?”

“Father has grown quiet and his shadows dimmer, yet our Godspeaker’s blood shines brighter still. Could it be that this light does not come from our progenitor, but our—” The Jaguar Woman’s face twisted into a frown, a question on the tip of her tongue. “No, that should not... he lacked the spark of godhood...”

“As far as we know,” Sugey replied. “We have suffered a string of setbacks and incidents this year, and all of them point towards the Sapa Empire. Those llama-lovers wouldn’t act so boldly against us without a secret weapon. If they have found a way to use him to disrupt the ritual–”

“It should not act this way,” the Jaguar Woman replied, her eyes glaring at Eztli. “But then again, our new sister has big shoes to fill.”

Eztli bristled uncomfortably. “I did everything as you’ve asked.”

“And that clearly wasn’t enough,” the Jaguar Woman replied angrily.

“How can we even believe him?” Iztacoatl pointed out with skepticism. “Our Godspeaker could have imagined things.”

“I sensed no lie, and his dream...” The Jaguar Woman studied the cup and its flames. “What if... what if it is another sun that prevents ours from rising...”

I had planted the seeds of doubt. Now was my opportunity to remind them of their leverage.

“If I may, oh great goddesses,” I said, clearing my throat. “With your permission, I would also like to petition you for better guards.”

This took Iztacoatl by surprise, and why wouldn’t it? I would be a fool to request more oversight.

“Why?” she asked immediately, her eyes squinting at me.

“Two of my consorts are pregnant with my children.” One of whom I very much regretted. “As is my favorite, Necahual.”

Eztli’s face beamed with happiness, her lips stretching into a smirk of absolute relief and pleasure. “Finally?”

“Yes,” I replied with a genuine smile, albeit one full of unease. I had no idea how this news would influence Eztli’s behavior. I feared it would strengthen Yoloxochitl’s hold on her mind more than anything. “Our gift to you.”

“Oh, Iztac...” Eztli didn’t bother hiding her joy, her hand moving to her face to suppress forming tears of blood. She almost sobbed in relief, as if we had conceived the child ourselves. “This is... I do not know what to say...”

“You fear for their safety,” Sugey guessed with a snort of amusement.

“Yes,” I replied, which was entirely true. The Three-Rivers Federation had already sent an assassin that came frighteningly close to killing two of my consorts after all. “One killer nearly slew Nenetl and Chikal, and I expect more will come soon.”

“I cannot blame you for requesting better help,” Sugey replied, her eyes turning at Iztacoatl in contempt.

The latter clenched her jaw. Her sister didn’t openly blame the White Snake for that disaster in front of me out of a desire to present a unified front, but her true thoughts were more than clear.

Nonetheless, that ought to reassure the Nightlords. Asking them to protect my bedmates and unborn children meant that I cared for them, and they had never failed to see love as a weakness to exploit.

“I intend to sire more children, so that my bloodline may endure after me,” I said. “I would ask for immortal soldiers to protect my progeny.”

“Your bloodline is precious to Yohuachanca and will be protected,” the Jaguar Woman replied. “So long as you continue to fight our empire’s enemies.”

Iztacoatl stared at her in disbelief. “You will still send him to fight? Even after all of this?”

“We still need to ascertain what is happening, but an emperor that does not show up to his own war will make us look weak,” the Jaguar Woman stated bluntly. “Especially now that the Sapa have clearly taken up arms against us. We need to mobilize the herd and stamp the vermin out.”

“I will watch over him and lead the charge,” Sugey replied sternly. “I intended to have our Godspeaker march onwards to the Flower War today anyway. Should the Sapa plot anything, I will deal with it and bathe in their blood.”

The Jaguar Woman nodded, then dismissed me. “We must ponder this prophecy between ourselves, our Godspeaker, alongside your request. You may leave.”

“Yes, crawl back to your sister’s bed,” Iztacoatl taunted me. “She must weep at night to see you prefer strangers to your own blood.”

The jab hit where it hurt.

I had expected as much, so I kept my mouth shut while my heart boiled with silent anger. The storm within my soul brewed with ominous thunder, and while I could hide my rage well enough, my silence and Eztli’s cold glare informed the Nightlords that the snake’s words had struck a nerve.

“Is that why you chose to take that bride’s first night, our Godspeaker? Because you felt you had soiled my chosen consort?” the Jaguar Woman asked with a dismissive snort. She seemed almost disappointed about my reaction, as if having me commit incest with my long-undiscovered sister was nothing to fuss over. “Put these fatuous thoughts aside. You are an emperor and above such trifle matters. The laws that bind common men do not apply to you, and the child you have sired on her may one day rule Yohuachanca after you.”

She said that expecting me to rejoice at the honor, the same way Tlaxcala had to pretend the theft of his wife had been an honor rather than abuse of power. I swallowed the insult with false grace.

“I understand the goddesses’ words,” I replied. “I have come to realize that while my life will end on the Night of the Scarlet Moon, my bloodline will run deep through our empire’s veins.”

“And it will, songbird,” Iztacoatl said with venom. “I will take good care of your descendants after you’re gone, I promise you that.”

A mountain should not pay attention to the blowing wind, nor the spitting spite of the enemy.

My reason ordered me to let it slide, to swallow my tongue and accept the taunt with grace, but I couldn’t close my eyes. The fire within my soul refused to let it slide. I had tasted Tlaloc’s pride and it rubbed off on me. The thunder of my heart would not allow an uppity runt to disrespect me.

Something deep within me compelled me to stand my ground, to retaliate.

Yet Necahual’s words once again proved wise enough to temper my heart. For as I looked at Iztacoatl, at the desperate wait for my reaction in her eyes, all my fury suddenly vanished. Instead, I only felt a deep sense of contempt.

She was pathetic.

Iztacoatl wielded more power than most would ever dream of. She could command armies, received the adoration of the masses, and all of her whims were immediately fulfilled. She might not be a true goddess, but she certainly lived like one.

And she would throw it all away if she could inflict a little bit of pain on another.

Deep down, she was such a bitter creature that taunting me was the closest thing that could bring her true happiness.

Necahual was right, those two were more alike than I thought. Both felt the need to torment someone within their power and couldn’t appreciate what they had. My favorite had moved past that petty mindset, but Iztacoatl remained trapped in it.

I recalled Ahalmez and Ahaltocob, the lords of control and abuse. It always struck me as odd how the former abided by the wishes of the latter, but I thought I understood the core of their dynamic. When one required another’s validation to exist, who was truly the most powerful? A true god never needed to prove themselves.

“The goddess is as kind as she is great,” I simply replied without emotion.

I met Iztacoatl’s eyes, and I knew she knew what I was thinking: that I looked down on her more than I hated her. My silence stirred the important frustration that fueled her weak heart, but she held her tongue. She had lost face once and any more words would lower her sisters’ opinion of her further.

I was dismissed for now and walked outside the temple while the Nightlords deliberated these new developments. I took the fact that they kept Eztli with her as a sign they would not allow her out of their sight again. I moved past the columns holding the Nightlords’ sanctuary atop their pyramid and gazed upon the city of Zachilaa, the wind softly blowing on my face. The sun was high, the sky clear.

The storm brewing within me awoke again. My power stirred and demanded to be used, pushing me with an overwhelming instinct to prove my divine power not to my foes and servants, but to the very laws of reality.

“Rain,” I whispered under my breath, so low that no one could hear it.

By the time I realized what had just happened, it was already too late.

A Word had pushed its way to my lips from the depths of my Teyolia, demanding to be uttered.

I hadn’t... I hadn’t thought nor willed it. It slipped out of my tongue on its own, striking like lightning.

The storm had been brewing within me since I was forced to kowtow to false gods and thundered forth the moment I lowered my guard, and I finally realized what Tlaloc meant when he said he had to cause disasters.

I had grown so powerful that my own magic sought to manifest into the world.

I had managed to feign weakness in the Nightlords’ presence, to feign powerlessness, but I was half a god now; and that part of me refused to hide. I was like a feathered tyrant pretending to be a trihorn. The instinct to conquer had always been there, waiting to express itself; and if I could not satisfy it, then it would eventually force its way to the surface, even near a Nightlord’s temple.

I could only pray that the sky alone listened to this secret Word of mine, for it most certainly did.

The wind blew in the distance. Dark clouds appeared out of nowhere across the horizon like a pack of hounds answering their master’s whistle. They blanketed the sky and obscured the Fifth Sun.

The first droplet fell at my feet.

A drizzle rained from the heavens, followed by a nourishing downpour that would feed Zachilaa’s streets and farmlands. The masses would not learn of this blessing, though I suspected that they would attribute it to my visit and promise of a heavenly bounty nonetheless. Perhaps I would inform them of the truth once I destroyed the Nightlords and let them draw their own conclusions. I wondered if they would raise shrines in my name.

My bloodline ruling over Yohuachanca, and I over its skies... I looked at the weather which I had bent to my will, the truest expression of my divine will, and I came to a conclusion. I like the sound of that.

I had uttered these words as an excuse to hide my deceit, but the thought appealed to me. I had sired children from my loins, like many emperors before me. Would it not be better if they were to inherit this cursed empire as themselves, rather than as vampire thralls to unworthy masters? It could grant them an inheritance worthy of a god-to-be.

I would let the Nightlords play false deities in their underground hole.

A greater destiny awaited me.