It said sothing about Mother that the prospect of transferring a girl’s soul into a monster’s body aroused her intellectual curiosity.
“Quite the brilliant plan, my son,” she congratulated while casting a spell on her divinatory pool. The purple water’s surface rippled, with indistinct mirages forming on it. “Very bold. Tell , how do you intend to bind those two?”
“My idea was to piggyback the ritual’s web of connections, the sa way my predecessors and I exploited it to fuel the Legion,” I explained. “If Chindi is now supposed to represent Eztli during the Scarlet Moon, then this should create a sympathetic link between them.”
“Your forr consort’s identity crisis already provides proof enough of this bond,” my predecessors replied, albeit with a caveat. “Nonetheless, can a Skinwalker’s spirit be conquered so easily?”
“A Skinwalker’s soul is a pitiful, fragnted mirror,” Mother countered. “Its malleability is why the Nightlords selected that creature to play the role of a replacent actress in their foul play. Its face will grow to fit the mask others force it to wear.”
I took her answer as encouragent. “So you think my plan can work?”
“Undoubtedly, albeit only with sufficient preparations.” Mother waved her hand over the pool, with the image of Chindi appearing on it. The Skinwalker rested in her new lavish bedroom, while poor Atziri did her best not to attract her predatory attention. The way Chindi smiled, with saliva dripping between her teeth, caused my stomach to sink. “This presents so many opportunities. Would young Eztli retain her new body’s powers if she overtakes its Tonalli? Or would she kick the old spirit out, magic and all? Would their spirits rge into a new personality?”
My enthusiasm quickly petered out. I hadn’t considered those outcos. “You think Chindi’s mind may influence Eztli?”
“Who can say?” she replied. “My version of the spell is designed to take over a normal human’s body by casting their Tonalli into the Underworld and taking over their flesh. A Skinwalker’s Tonalli is stronger than any mundane soul, yet splintered and malleable. It might rge with young Eztli, adapt and force the invader out, or depart for its afterlife.”
“The third outco is the most preferable,” I said. Eztli already struggled with sharing her mind with one monster, so I didn’t have the heart to impose the presence of another. “Is there no way to guarantee it?”
Mother shook her head, crushing my hopes. “The spell is experintal, and I do not have a handful of Skinwalkers to test it out on. We cannot know if it will work on its intended vessel until we try.”
My teeth ground against each other. “Which makes it quite the gamble.”
“I do not believe we will find a better host to house Eztli’s mind,” Mother argued. “Save her mother perhaps, which is an option I assu neither would entertain.”
She was half-right. Necahual would do anything for her daughter, even give her life, but Eztli would never consent to it.
“No,” I confird.
“I assud so,” Mother said. “Then either it will work with this Skinwalker or it never will.”
The Parliant of Skulls urged us to proceed anyway. “We would suggest proceeding with the spell as soon as possible, our successor. Whatever risks this plot carries pale before the possibility of your forr consort revealing all of our secrets under Yoloxochitl’s influence. Her mind is breaking down at the seams and she knows too much.”
Unfortunately, my predecessors had a point. I had already received a glimpse of what fate awaited should Yoloxochitl’s image fully take over Eztli’s mind in the Razor House. Necahual’s blood donations would only stabilize her daughter for a while, but I doubted she could keep it up forever.
“Heed their wisdom, my son,” Mother said with what could pass for fondness. “Young Eztli reminds of myself when I was her age. I am certain that she will adapt to her new vessel easily enough.”
I wasn’t sure how I should take that remark. Alas, I had very few other options and a lack of ti to find a better one. Ti was running out for us, and I had no idea when this particular deadline would co calling.
“How do we proceed?” I asked Mother. “When should we proceed?”
Mother smiled at my enthusiasm. She delighted in showcasing her expertise. “I see three hurdles that we must address before we begin. First of all, I designed my spell to transfer the caster’s soul, which would provide a stronger anchor. Since young Eztli is not a Nahualli, your current plan would have you serve as the interdiary between them. You will need to mark both of your consorts in a way that will allow you to serve as a bridge between them.”
“I can think of a few ways,” I replied with a shrug. Seidr should take care of that issue, and I could reinforce the bond by other ans such as feeding Eztli and Chindi my blood and bones. Recruiting Necahual as a Motzcopinque assistant might help improve the sympathetic connection as well. “What’s the second problem?”
“The cost of success.” Mother’s smile faded into a scowl. “Even if we do transfer young Eztli’s essence into her new vessel, then this will leave her old body an empty shell filled only by the vampire curse.”
I knew this subject would co up. “Do you think this will allow Yoloxochitl’s influence to possess the empty body?”
Mother thankfully explained otherwise. “You would need an actual spirit to settle in there. The Nightlord Yoloxochitl is well and truly dead, her Tonalli forever trapped in her Father’s belly. She does not possess young Eztli from beyond the grave; your consort’s mind is simply being reshaped by the ritual into a copy of her predecessor. Without a spirit to transform, that vampire body will beco no more than a piece of at fueled by darkness. It may beco catatonic or transform into a mindless monster.”
“Either outco will bring the Nightlords’ attention,” my predecessors warned . “We must proceed in a way that will lay the bla at another’s feet. We suggest the First Emperor.”
“He would make for a fine patsy,” I conceded. After what he went through tonight, it would be easy to make my lover’s transformation seem like a direct backlash from the First Emperor; a spiteful attempt to punish his daughters for putting him through the agony of his own murder. “Eztli’s ability to replace Yoloxochitl for the ritual is already an unexpected fluke. We could trick the Nightlords into believing that she simply couldn’t survive the occult strain it put on her, if we cover our tracks well.”
“This will nonetheless raise their suspicions, fuel their paranoia, and cause them to keep a closer eye on Eztli’s replacent,” the Parliant pointed out. “You will find your options even more limited than before.”
“Which brings to the third issue with the spell.” Mother tilted her head to the side. “While the Skinwalker’s consent isn’t required, Eztli must agree to it. Any doubt she might have in her heart will cause the transfer to collapse part way through. She must accept her new life without remorse, never looking back.”
“I do not think she will object to the transfer, not too much,” I replied. Eztli hated her existence as a vampire, and I couldn’t see how the possibility of escaping Yoloxochitl’s hold on her mind wouldn’t appeal to her. The risks of our plan paled before the certainty of becoming a Nightlord’s vessel. “Breaching the subject with her undetected will prove more difficult, but I can manage it.”
I had spent a lot of effort building a network of interdiaries by handpicking my consorts’ handmaidens. Between them and Necahual, I could give Eztli enough hints and information to figure out my plan on her own without arousing the Nightlords’ suspicions.
“We would not be so confident, our successor,” the Parliant replied. “It would be difficult for anyone to wake up and see the face of a stranger in the mirror.”
“I got used to the Ride spell quickly enough,” I countered. “But I see what you an. Agreent and resolve are two different things.”
“You will only have one chance to cast the spell successfully,” Mother warned. “Do not try it unless you areabsolutely certain your consort will go through with it with a clear mind.”
Eztli and clarity rarely went together nowadays, but for the sake of the plan I would find a way to dispel those clouds obscuring her thoughts. This would likely require Necahual’s assistance.
“How does the spell work?” I asked. “Must all of its participants be in close proximity?”
“No, so long as they are properly marked and their Tonalli properly resonate,” Mother replied. “You will however need to guide Eztli’s soul to its new receptacle and ensure the host’s will is suppressed. Both will likely require your physical presence near the Skinwalker.”
“But I could mark Eztli and transfer her soul remotely.”
“If you ti the spell correctly,” Mother said. “The spell works only one way too, since it is based on an advanced form of the Ride.”
“So there is no risk of Eztli and Chindi switching bodies?” I felt no loyalty to the Skinwalker, but the possibility of her running around in a vampiric shell disturbed . She was better off gone.
“Of course not,” Mother replied gruffly. “I would never be stupid enough to let soone run around in my body. No loose ends.”
I could agree with that mindset. This greatly simplified a very difficult situation.
I considered how to proceed. My first order of business would be to put Necahual through the Motzcopinque ritual in Zachilaa, then use the Flower Wars as a distraction to run the soul transfer spell.
The Nightlords would never allow Eztli to risk herself near the frontlines for fear of disturbing their wicked ritual. They would keep her at the palace while the rest of us traveled south to fight the Sapa.
Which ant I had only a very short ti window to both mark Eztli and convince her to use the spell.
“I will work on refining the spell as much as I can,” Mother said. “You should face the last of the Lords of Terror in the anti. This will clear the path to the pyramid and grant you a final spell that may or may not co in handy in your endeavor.”
This would also give the Lords of Terror an opportunity to sabotage too. I doubted they had taken our last encounter well, however bound they were to Xibalba’s rules.
“Will I be able to return here afterwards should I pass the trial?” I asked. “They have already denied access to your Owl House when I needed to contact you the most.”
“That won’t be a problem anymore after you conquer the last House of Trials,” Mother replied reassuringly. “Conquering them will mark you as worthy of entering the Black Pyramid and of participating in the Lords’ sacred ballcourt ga. All the city’s doors will open to you then.”
“All of them, except the exit.”
“Crossing that threshold will require another sacrifice.” Mother marked a short pause, as if hesitating to broach a peculiar subject before deciding against it. “Go now, my son. Your final trial awaits you.”
I faced Xibalba’s misty archway for the last ti.
The thick mantle of fog swirled with the rancid stench of bitterness and nauseating fus of disdain. I sensed no invitation to a trap or to uncover ancient knowledge like my previous visits. The threshold no longer bothered to deceive and trick with a false allure of safety.
The farce was up. I would only find hatred beyond this doorway to darkness.
“Are you ready, our successor?” the two skulls in my hands asked. “There is no telling what awaits you inside.”
Their concern was not unwarranted. I’d refused to beco the Lords’ pawn. This sixth ordeal and the ballga that followed would be their final chance to either corrupt or punish for my defiance. I could expect almost anything.
Yet I felt no fear. My mind was clear like a cloudless sky, my will stronger than the thickest stone.
“Many tis have the Lords of Terror tried to destroy my spirit and failed,” I declared, both to my predecessors and this cursed city. “This trial will be no different.”
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Whatever foul ploy they planned for , I would beat it.
In a way, the Lords had succeeded in their aim. They had purged of my fears and doubts until only the twin flas of hatred and resolve remained. Neither gods nor demons would intimidate anymore.
I absorbed the skulls back into my skeletal fra and crossed into the fog alone with my thoughts.
The mist seared my bones.
The heat sharply increased the mont I crossed the threshold, as if I had walked into Smoke Mountain’s crater. It almost felt like a breeze compared to the boiling tar that lted the flesh off my skeleton, but it was noticeable enough to spook . I felt dizzy all of a sudden.
Then I fell.
I didn’t trip, I was sure of that. The ground simply vanished beneath my feet and caused to fall down through the mist. A familiar plunging feeling sank into my stomach as the fog cleared and revealed a clear blue expanse all around .
The sky welcod in its free-falling embrace.
I imdiately activated Spiritual Manifestation. I flew on wings of black feathers into a pure blue expanse that stretched as far as I could see. The horizon shone so brightly it hurt to look at it.
It went on forever.
No cloud obscured my view, nor did any sun shine in this endless expanse. I couldn’t see the ground below either, nor any mountain peak challenging the heavens.
The ground was gone too.
A vast, empty abyss stretched beneath my wings. No wind pushed against my feathers, whether they carried the prayers or malice of n. I was gliding down on hot air in a void without beginning or end. I couldn’t even get a sense of my direction. I was alone in a quiet world of nothingness.
I could already identify one of the two fears that this place represented.
Falling.
Was there a ground hidden below ? A set of stone jaws waiting to surprise with a sudden snap the mont I lowered my guard? A floor on which to crash at the last second? I activated the Gaze spell to dispel all illusions around , yet detected none.
This didn’t an anything. The Lords of Terror running this house didn’t need lies to deceive . They could materialize the ground from thin air at any ti.
How long would I have to wait? Or would I continue to fall until I found a way out?
I flapped my wings and rode across currents of hot air. The air felt heavy and lifeless. It lacked the dust and ashes that suffocated Tlalocan, the sll of flowers or snow, nor the moisture of rain and clouds. This sky never floated above earth of any kind, nor did any bird ever explore its vastness before .
And the silence… The silence weighed on .
I’d never heard of skies quieter than these. The heavens above were usually a noisy place, a maelstrom of winds and air blowing onto my face. The world constantly moved because it was alive.
Yet no matter how long I focused, I could only hear the soft flap of my wings and the resistance of my feathers against the air.
Was I flying east or west, north or south? I could hardly tell without any fra of reference. I searched the horizon for any floating island, cloud, star, whatever could help find where I was, or if there was a place where to go in this void.
I flew.
I flew.
I flew.
I flew for so long and all I could see was the endless blue. I floated aimlessly in a void without a beginning nor end, without ground nor up, without people nor obstacles.
At this point, I began to realize what the word alone truly ant.
Nobody was ever alone in this world. Even a hermit living in the wilderness or a cave could often hear the sound of the rain, the sensation of a bug crawling on their skin, or rejoice at the sll of a warm al cooked on the fire. There was always so kind of movent to remind the human mind that it did not exist in a void separate from everything else.
Only in this place did I truly feel the crushing weight of true isolation.
Loneliness. The thought crossed my vertigo-addled mind in a flash of insight. This place’s other fear is loneliness.
I was alone in a world without ups and downs.
“Show yourself!” I called out to the void. “Co out! I know you are there!”
I receive no answer besides the echo of my own voice.
I reviewed my options. There was no wind for to call upon in this lifeless void, nothing solid to which I could attach myself to with the Doll spell, and no shadow to use the Curse or the Haunt on.
I used the Blaze to unleash fireballs in multiple directions, trying to asure whether this void was indeed infinite or rely a trick of my mind. My baleful flas flew across the horizon until they beca flickering stars in the distance, and then vanished.
The Pit wouldn’t be too useful in my situation and required ground to stand on anyway. Which left the Word.
“Stop.”
My voice echoed across the nothingness and rippled with power.
Nobody answered, whether to obey or to laugh. No one was listening.
What was I supposed to do then? Was this a lesson about letting go? Of the joys of surrendering oneself to the vast aninglessness of an empty universe?
I closed my eyes and let myself fall. I folded my wings and embraced the call of gravity.
The sky yanked back.
Down beca up, and up beca down. I suddenly fell backwards, or at least what felt like backwards. The force observing this void denied the comfort of a clear direction and the calm acceptance of a freefall.
A warden observed in this wall-less prison. A will who didn’t want to find rest, even in feigned surrender.
But what else was I supposed to do? What lesson was I supposed to learn to escape this trial? I could do nothing.
Nothing…
My heart grew cold as I finally understood.
There was no trial for to pass. I had no lesson to learn and would receive no apprenticeship in cruelty. The Lords of Terror had either given up on corrupting or decided to use as an example to uppity sorcerers.
This house was a trap. It had no exit nor hidden ground for to land on.
There was only the fall. A down without an end where ti and space had no aning.
The sky would be my coffin.
How long had I been falling?
Hours? Days? It felt like days, but I couldn’t tell without directions or any fra of reference. I could hardly focus enough to count seconds in my head. The Lords of Terror ruled over ti within their dominion. I might have spent years within this place for all I knew.
The dizziness and vertigo only increased over ti. I felt sick. My world flickered into fractal lights and azure spirals whenever I opened my eyes. The void twisted and bent to mock , to cruelly refuse whatever peace I could find in the mundane, the usual.
My very senses betrayed . The sky didn’t let rest either. Whenever I grew too comfortable, it would adjust my direction and velocity. It denied any form of comforting certainty, keeping on my toes, and ripping away any form of reassurance.
I forgot how often I snarled in rage or called out to the Lords of this cursed house to fight rather than hide. Often, I struggled to recall how many trials I’d conquered. It beca harder and harder to conceptualize the world before the emptiness.
It was awful, how weak the human spirit proved to be when denied an anchor on which to focus on; and how much we relied on others to understand reality. What was there left for to compare myself to?
Who was left to see ?
I thought of Nenetl, Ingrid, Eztli, Chikal, Father, and Mother… I tried to use their mory as an anchor, but it beca harder and harder to rember the sound of their voices, the shape of their faces, and even what they ant to . What I would have given to see them even for a mont.
The numbness and silence were maddening. They drained .
I needed soone to talk to. Soone to anchor my drifting sense of reality.
I crafted a skull from my hands and attempted to summon my predecessors through the Legion, only for an invisible force to yank it off my hand before I could speak the correct incantation. The piece of bone flew into the distance and then vanished without a sound.
The sky ate my skull.
The blue would ensure I remained alone.
I didn’t think I ever realized how oppressive loneliness was before today. I had suffered for years at the hands of my fellow human beings, who had mocked and resented because of their own prejudices, who had thrown stones at and spat on my face… but at least they had been there, seeing , acknowledging that I existed.
Even a glare remained a human interaction at the end of the day; a reminder that one existed as part of a greater world. I almost ca to miss them. I would have given so much to have even the likes of Tezozomoc, Tlacaelel, and all those bootlickers and abusers speaking to right now. I would take any reminder that soone, sothing existed outside the prison of my mind.
To beco truly weightless, unburdened by anything and anyone, ant stopping to exist.
And it felt awful.
The silence numbed my soul. The sky would devour my mind piece by piece, slowly corroding my sense of self until I forgot that there used to be a ground beneath it. Only empty blue, forever and ever.
Absolute isolation could drive any man to insanity.
“Anyone?” I whispered to the void, then shouted. “Answer !”
Not even the echo of my own words answered . The sky denied that small rcy.
Perhaps the Lords would let out if I begged for their forgiveness, or if I agreed to a pact that would bind to their service. Maybe a single word of apology separated from hitting the ground and the comfort of an ending, of collision with another.
“No.” Sothing within flowed out of my mouth, a raw, stubborn desire born of my pride and tattered conviction. “No, no, never surrender, never compromise.”
I refused to give in.
I said… I said once that I would beat this trial. I rembered it. I promised it to… to soone I couldn’t recall…
I fought back the tiredness and exhaustion in an attempt to focus. I closed my mind to the velocity and the maddening silence of this maddened atmosphere. I retreated into myself in search of an answer deep within.
I sensed it. A chain binding my heart to ghosts of an ancient past. The one anchor that the blue couldn’t take from ; a leash that I loathed from the very bottom of my soul.
Yet gazing upon it filled with gratitude, for I sensed so many presences through it. Links in a chain praying for my success.
There had to be a way out of this cell. A spell I hadn’t considered. A secret trick that would let escape.
I couldn’t be powerless…
Powerless.
My eyes snapped open. A mad idea had crossed my mind.
I canceled Spiritual Manifestation and beca a man again. I faced the new fall calling and stared into the endless abyss with a wicked grin.
“Behold, demons!” I taunted the void. “How a man brings down the sky!”
I slamd my hands together and called upon the secret terror engraved within my heart.
“Powerlessness,” I whispered with a smile.
I called upon the Tomb to swallow whole.
My power rippled out of my body like a storm of dirt filling the empty air. Baleful purple fla spread through the void. The whispering shadows of a bird cage made of vengeful skulls swirled around , unford and half-born.
The strain affected my Teyolia and Tonalli both. The Tomb required more power than I had to fully manifest it. In the absence of more embers, it was condemned to remain an incomplete and stillborn manifestation of my own fear. Its true potential remained beyond my grasp for now.
But it didn’t matter now. I could already sense the pressure buckling against my Tomb.
Although this place seed endless, it remained a closed domain within Xibalba; a House of Trials.
And no two houses could stand in the sa spot.
My taphysical weight pushed against my prison, imposing structure into the formless void. It recoiled and raged at this violation. The blue cracked like glass, thin lines spreading across the horizon. They were thin at first and hardly more visible than the shadow of dancing clouds in the distance, but the re sight of this change in the unmoving nothingness filled my heart with glee.
The blaze of my soul burned brighter and strengthened the unborn Tomb it called forth from the depths of my being. I sensed it as the chain around my heart-fire strained and answered my call. A horde of ghosts sang within my half-born birdcage, their fears and spite resonating with mine. A chorus of past emperors lent their aid, my plea an echo of their own.
The curse that bound us together pulled the weight of over six hundred ghostly spirits down onto this empty house.
I was not alone anymore, nor had I ever been.
We were legion, and we were many.
A greater darkness stirred at the beginning of the chain as I pulled it to . I sensed the First Emperor look upon from high above. My resolve and pride pierced through the veil of pain and horrible mories the Nightlords put him through, and the weight of its distant, eldritch gaze proved too much for this paltry excuse of a sky to hold.
The void shuddered in pain, like a gullet struggling to hold back a piece of food too spicy for it. Vibrations coursed through the nothingness around , slowly building up towards its apex.
Then the sky scread.
The void let out an inhuman noise; a high-pitch wail of pure pain and suffering, whose strength was only matched by that of my roaring laughter.
What boundless joy to hear the heavens weep!
Only when the scream finally reached its apex did the ground appear below . A floor of stone sprawled and rushed towards with gnashing teeth of sharp obsidian. A mouth the size of a city opened to swallow whole, and within it, I saw only smoke and a tongue of steaming magma.
I looked into the dark abyss of its gullet and uttered a single Word.
“Close.”
The maw snapped shut.
I summoned my jet black wings and gracefully landed on a tooth longer than my entire body. I sensed the fanged ground shudder beneath , its animalist hunger fruitlessly pushing against the power of my will. A vain effort. This thing was little more than a wall with hunger, a beast ant to obey the orders of higher beings.
Its master swiftly whispered in my ear. “How?”
I almost mistook its voice for the Yaotzin’s at first, but no wind blew in my ear. I only sensed the pressure of air.
I looked up to the sky and found myself facing a spiral. The shining blue sky had transford from an endless expanse into a maelstrom of air. I almost suffered from vertigo simply by looking at it.
As I focused and my eyes adjusted to the blinding light, I noticed a shape in the spiral’s center: the floating body of a hairless, gray humanoid in a fetal position, so far above it would take hours of flight to reach it. I must have looked exactly the sa when the sky had caught in its grip.
The last two Lords of Terror looked down upon in defeat. Their jail of air had failed to hold .
“How?” the spiral whispered in my ear with a feminine voice. “How did a re mortal destabilize our den of fear?”
“You answered your own question, demon,” I replied with my head held high. “There is nothing re about .”
I was the heir to a six-hundred year old legacy of death and murder. Its occult weight allowed my unborn Tomb to overwhelm even the Lords’ domain.
“Yes… yes, I see that now.” The spiral coiled into a fractal, a mind-numbing vision of light and blue colors. “You gaze upon Xic, the vast and wingless, she who brings n down and down into the deepest void. Behold Patan, the forsaken, the weightless loner.”
The lonely humanoid did not turn to address . I figured that the demon of isolation would not deign to greet its visitor. How impolite.
“You are wasting your imnse talents on the happiness of lesser beings, sorcerer,” the sky said. I sensed no anger in her voice; only disappointnt. “Why will you not embrace true freedom?”
“What are you talking about?” I scoffed. “It is freedom that I seek above all things. The freedom to do as I choose.”
“Such a state can only be achieved by true weightlessness,” Xic argued. “When chained to others, a soul can only fall further down towards its doom. Only by severing themselves from their mortal attachnts can a sorcerer live free of suffering.”
I snorted and glared at Patan. “You would have end up like him then? A crawling shadow left adrift in the void?”
“The fall never kills, demon emperor,” the empty sky replied. “The impact does. Only a soul that travels unburdened can remain beyond the reach of pain and sorrow. You believe your bonds strengthen you, when they are no more than a noose tightening around your neck.”
“Then give the spell which you owe , so that I can sever my obligations to you Lords of Terror and fly far away free,” I replied coldly. I was done taking lessons. Now I would seize power. “You can be alone again in this endless prison you call your house.”
“Beware the pride before the fall, demon emperor. No one escapes Xibalba without paying their due.” The sky coiled and unfurled like a great beast shifting its form. “We bestow upon you the Fall spell. Up, down, left, right, forward, and downward. You alone will decide which way gravity falls.”
Another spell added to my repertoire.
I had concluded my last trial.
Only the final ballcourt ga stood between and this cursed city’s threshold.
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