It came as no real surprise to anyone when the world ended again. It wasn’t the first time it happened, nor would it be the last; it was just the most recent in a series of unavoidable apocalypses.

There was the First Sun, where hordes of jaguars devoured every last human on earth.

There was the Second Sun, where the wind turned the new generation into monkeys and blew them away.

At the end of the Third Sun, humanity turned into birds and tried to escape the fire raining from the heavens, but they failed.

And the Fourth Sun ended in flooding, though this time the gods decided to save two humans. Yet the man and woman displeased them by leaving their canoe when told expressly not to, so the gods turned them into dogs.

“They didn’t worship us anyway,” Ometeotl—the god of duality—grumbled as he and the wind god Ehecatl sat in Omeyocan and watched the dogs perish in the high waters below. He’d said that about every generation of humans, and Ehecatl sometimes wondered why he didn’t just create them himself. He is a creator god, after all, but Ehecatl kept the sentiment to himself. He was still young and so knew little about such things.

Others weren’t so willing to let Ometeotl’s comments go unchallenged though. “You blather endlessly about how imperfect my humans are, but I have yet to see you craft anything with your own hands,” Huehueteotl boomed when he overheard Ometeotl. He was the very old fire god who’d engineered all those failed generations of humanity. The ensuing argument climaxed with Huehueteotl announcing that he wouldn’t create anymore “damn humans” and someone else could do it this time, because he was going away and they could all “be damned.”

Once the buzz of worried conversation died down in the wake of Huehueteotl’s departure, Ehecatl asked Ometeotl, “May I help you create the new humans?”

“I’ve better things to do than create imperfect creatures,” Ometeotl replied. “It’s a fool’s errand.”

Disappointed, Ehecatl changed into the wind and began helping the other gods push back the waters. Sometimes he felt as if he lived only to exist, not because he served any truly useful purpose. Oh, he was very good at controlling the wind, but other gods did that job just as well, and lately he felt less like helping and more like he wanted to be important. Helping recreate humanity would have been a good start towards helping him find his place among the gods.

But to his disappointment, when he arrived back at Omeyocan, someone else had already created a new human: the rain god Tlaloc made a mud man by mixing rain with the dirt. Everyone crowded around to see it, and Cihuacoatl—a very old, knobby-handed creator goddess—breathed life into the mud man. It opened its eyes and gazed blankly at the gods. It stood and walked around while all the gods murmured their approval.

But when the water dried up, the man’s skin began flaking off and his mud cracked. The more steps he took, the quicker he crumbled into pieces. In a matter of minutes the new human was nothing more than a pile of crumbled fragments.

“Our new humans cannot fall apart when the weather is hot and dry, nor can they melt into pools of sludge when it rains,” Ometeotl said. He then pounded the mud man’s remains to dust.

Ehecatl opened his mouth to repeat his request to help, but the goddess of hearths—Chantico—piped up with the next suggestion first. “Wood will not dissolve in the rain, and it will last for centuries.” She carved a man of mahogany, and for hair she put a maize tassel upon his head. When she held him up for the others to see, the others agreed that he looked quite sturdy.

Cihuacoatl, however, shook her head and said, “It won’t work.” Chantico insisted she breathe life into her wooden man anyway, so she obliged her, but then she went back to grinding clouds on her metlatl stone.

It wasn’t immediately obvious that the wooden man wouldn’t work out. He was indeed sturdy, and he withstood Tlaloc’s rain and Ehecatl’s drying wind. He even spoke the gods’ tongue and fashioned tools with his hands. Chantico beamed for her success. “And the old woman said he wouldn’t work out.” So she made another—a woman this time—and another, and another, until she’d created a whole tribe of them, all making spears and knives and speaking the words of their gods.

For days, the gods lounged around Omeyocan, watching their new humans with rapt interest, but the longer they watched, the more they realized that Chantico’s humans were not nearly as human as Huehueteotl’s had been. They killed animals, but they didn’t eat them or take their skins for clothing. Nor did they work together well. In fact, they seemed to have no interest in one another at all, and many of the gods whispered questions about how these new humans would ever make children.

“I haven’t time to carve more,” Chantico said. She’d grown less interested in her creations with each day.

“And they still don’t worship us,” Ometeotl said. He rained fired down on the wooden people and they quickly caught fire and burned to ash. “A fool’s errand,” he repeated before retiring to his house to smoke his pipe.

~

For a year, no one else attempted to make any more new humans, but the desire still rested unresolved deep in Ehecatl’s soul. He thought about it often as he spent his evenings sweeping the winds across the seas. If only he knew the secrets of creation, he would have tried his own hand at it, but alas, he wasn’t a creator god. He was just the wind.

That night he finished up early and returned to Omeyocan before dusk had aged to darkness. He changed from the wind to his man-shape when he touched down on the city’s landing deck, and he immediately noticed Cihuacoatl sitting behind her metlatl stone as usual. She smiled at him. “You look bored, quetzalcoatl,” she said. She always called him that—”feathered serpent”, it meant, or even “precious serpent”, though he was neither feathered nor a snake. “Does the wind present you with little challenge tonight?”

Ehecatl shrugged and sat next to her. Sometimes she made butterfly maize cakes and breathed life into them so they fluttered around like real butterflies. They were fun to watch. But tonight her stone was empty. “The wind hardly ever presents a challenge,” he told her.

Cihuacoatl raised an eyebrow. “If it’s a challenge you seek, I have one for you.”

Ehecatl sat a little straighter. “Is it a mission? Will it be dangerous?”

“It’s always dangerous to venture into the underworld.”

Ehecatl hesitated. He liked exploring the crevices and caves that led into the underworld, but he was always careful not to venture too far. Mictlantecuhtli—Lord Death—was a tyrant and friend to no one, mortal or immortal. “What’s down there?”

“The bones of the last generation of humanity.” Cihuacoatl leaned towards Ehecatl conspiratorially. “I’ve seen how you struggle to find your place among the gods. I know your heart longs for something meaningful to do, to feel, and I know precisely what will finally make you happy and complete.”

“What?”

“You should be the new father of mankind.”

Her suggestion rekindled that desire he’d tried hard to forget, bringing with it hope and excitement, but that soon dissolved into the same disappointment as always. “But I know nothing of creation. I’m not a creator god—”

“What can you say about what truly lies in your soul, quetzalcoatl?” Cihuacoatl asked. “Don’t deny it. I see the truth in your eyes. You want to create. You just don’t know how. But I can show you.”

Ehecatl edged closer, clutching his bare knees like an eager child. “Truly?”

“You must do something first, though.”

“Name it and I’ll do it.”

“You must go into the underworld and bring me a bone from the previous generation of humanity. Mictlantecuhtli has it. From that we can reconstruct humanity and, with your help, improve it.”

Ehecatl gulped. “I have to actually go see Lord Death?”

Cihuacoatl smiled gently. “All boys must someday discover the world for themselves, quetzalcoatl, and I think everyone would agree that now is your time to do that.”

~

Before first light, Ehecatl left his house. All night he’d thought about the mission, and he’d decided he would regret passing it up. For years he’d waited for this opportunity and he hesitated only briefly before stepping over the edge of Omeyocan and turning into the wind.

All the entrances to the underworlds were through cinotes—deep caves filled with water—so he chose one close to Omeyocan, one he’d explored on more than one occasion. The water wasn’t especially deep inside it and after a brief swim he reached the passages that wound through the earth, to the road to Mictlan. The crevices were tight in places, making him turn into the wind to pass through, but after much crawling and breezing through the darkness, Ehecatl finally emerged into a tall cavern.

A set of steps descended further into the underworld, barred by gates of bone. Unable to believe his luck, Ehecatl rushed towards it. He only needed to wrench one of the bones from the gate and take it back to Omeyocan.

But when he reached the gate, he saw they were animal bones—deer, jaguar, and bear. He looked down the stairs lit with ghostly-blue torchlight. Where was the path’s guardian, Xolotl, who escorted the souls of the dead down into Mictlan? Ehecatl didn’t fancy facing the perils of the path on his own.

Don’t turn coward now, he told himself, so he wound his way through the bone bars as a gentle breeze and started down the stairs.

The descent seemed endless. He blew over the chasm several times to look for the bottom but he never saw it. Eventually the stairs reached a landing with an arched doorway, so Ehecatl took his solid form and made to step through the doorway.

But he went no further than a couple steps before a snarling, black shadow sprang out in front of him. Ehecatl leaped backwards, almost over the edge of the chasm, but he blew himself back upright and readied a wall of stiff wind to knock his adversary backwards should he attack again.

The creature—half-man, half-dog—limped out of the shadowed doorway and leveled his spear at Ehecatl. His bare feet were attached to his legs backwards, accounting for his strange gait. “Identify yourself!” he demanded, his dog lips curled into a snarl.

“Xolotl! It’s Ehecatl.”

The deformed god glared at him and wiggled his nose. “Why are you here?”

“I’m seeking audience with Mictlantecuhtli.”

Xolotl wheezed a laugh. “Only fools and the dead request audiences with Lord Death. You don’t look dead, so that must make you a fool.”

“He’s going to help me recreate humanity.”

“He knows nothing of creating life, Ehecatl. He knows only how to take it.”

“I know, but he can help me anyway. Will you take me to see him?” Xolotl seemed reluctant, so Ehecatl asked him, “Why were you hiding down here?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” Xolotl snarled.

“I expected to meet you up at the gates.”

“My days aren’t exactly eventful anymore, not since the flood killed all the humans. We had a nice rush for a few weeks, but it’s been dreadfully dull ever since. You’re the first soul I’ve seen down here in over a year, so there’s no use sitting up at the top when no one will come, so I stay here at my house by the lake.”

“Dreadfully dull, indeed,” Ehecatl said. “But if I can enlist Mictlantecuhtli’s help, I can make new humans, and before you know it you’ll be escorting the dead to Mictlan again.”

Xolotl scratched his chin for a moment then nodded. “I still think you’re a fool, but very well.” He transformed into a black wolf-like dog and trotted through the doorway. Ehecatl followed.

The doorway opened into a vast cavern. A black river filled most of it, its opposite shore so far that Ehecatl couldn’t see it. But as the wind he’d cross it easily.

Yet when he tried to change, nothing happened. His human-like body remained firmly solid and unyielding.

“You can’t fly over it,” Xolotl replied.

“Why not?”

“The rules are different when you walk Death’s path. It has to be swum. There is no other way across.”

Wondering if this was a good idea after all, Ehecatl looked back towards the doorway, but the arch was gone, replaced with a stone wall. With nowhere else left to go, he followed Xolotl into the water.

The river was ice cold, something Ehecatl never thought would bother him, but his teeth were soon chattering. He took hold of Xolotl’s tail as they began swimming. Not even halfway across, he lost feeling in his legs. He kicked harder, trying to keep up with Xolotl, but he wasn’t sure if it was doing any good. His hands started going numb too. He gripped Xolotl’s tail harder, but he still felt as if he were slipping off. Water slapped up into his mouth and he spat it out and tried to shake it from his face.

Then he felt something tug at his leg. A first he dismissed it—his legs were numb, so how could he feel anything?—but then he felt it again: fingers wrapping around his ankle and trying to pull him under. “Xolotl! Something’s got me!”

“Ignore it,” Xolotl replied and continued swimming.

Before Ehecatl could answer, he went under. He opened his mouth to call for help but water rushed in, filling his lungs with alarming speed. He’d never needed to breathe before, but that hardly mattered to him now. He broke the surface, spitting and coughing up water, his arms flailing around in panic. He floundered for a moment, sure the mysterious hand would pull him under again, but then he felt Xolotl’s wet fur under his arms. He gripped tightly, trembling.

When they finally reached the opposite shore, Ehecatl clambered on hands and knees, grateful for the hard ground beneath him.

“Your mind tricked you,” Xolotl said. “You’re walking Death’s path, and since only the dead are allowed to do that, he will do everything he can to make you one of the dead.”

“You mean I could die down here? But I’m a god!”

“You’re in Death’s realm, where even gods can die. The rules here are his.”

Ehecatl shivered on the bank, rubbing his shoulders to warm up while Xolotl paced by the stone archway leading out. He waited a few minutes before insisting they continue. Ehecatl still had no feeling in his feet, but he pressed on anyway.

The archway opened into another cavern. In the darkness he heard rain falling, except the drops gave off a strange tinking sound when they landed. He couldn’t see much further than a few paces out, and he and Xolotl stood under a stone awning, so the source of the strange sound remained unseen. Xolotl trotted into the darkness and Ehecatl followed close behind.

The overhang’s edge finally appeared in the dark, and as soon as Ehecatl stepped into the open, something sharp buried itself in his bare shoulder. He cried out, startled by the sudden blossoming pain, and stumbled back under the rock. When he reached over his shoulder, he found a stone arrowhead embedded in his flesh. And he was bleeding; not the gold stardust gods bled, but wet, sticky, red blood. “What sorcery is this?” he asked, bewildered.

“As I said, the rules are different here.” Xolotl stood out in the downpour but the stones bounced off him as if he were himself stone. Arrowheads littered the ground, and more fell like lethal raindrops from the sky.

Ehecatl pulled the arrowhead from his shoulder and cried out. He’d never felt pain before and its potency overpowered him. He slouched against the wall, clutching the arrowhead and wiping wetness from his face with the back of his bloody hand.

“Come along,” Xolotl insisted

But Ehecatl shook his head. “I can’t. I’ll be dead before I reached the other side.” He panted, his heart drumming inside him. “I want to go back.”

“You can’t. Death’s path runs only one way. This is a dangerous place to let fear consume you, Ehecatl.”

“Easy words for you. The arrowheads don’t hurt you.” But as Ehecatl watched them bounce off Xolotl’s back, an idea began forming. “Must you be a dog when you walk the path?”

“I chose to be a dog, for it’s easier than navigating with my deformed feet.”

“But you can be a man?” When Xolotl nodded, Ehecatl told him, “Will you please change into one now?”

“What for?”

“You’ll be easier to carry.” When Xolotl began protesting, Ehecatl said, “You’re my guide and you’re supposed to help me walk the path. It’s the only way I’ll make it across the cavern alive. Now turn into a man.”

Xolotl bristled but lowered his shoulders and changed into his deformed, not-quite-human body. Ehecatl hoisted him onto his back and wrapped Xolotl’s arms around his neck. “Now hurry,” Xolotl said. “The storm only grows worse the longer you wait.”

Ehecatl stepped out into the shower of arrowheads with Xolotl draped over his back like a cloak. He made slow progress, for Xolotl’s limp body grew increasingly heavier. The swim had drained much of his energy, but now the last of it trickled out of him under the weight. Sweating and panting, he struggled to catch his breath without stopping, for as Xolotl had promised, the storm grew steadily nastier.

For the longest time Xolotl lay so still and silent that Ehecatl wondered if he’d overestimated the god’s defense against the arrowhead barrage. “Are you alright, Xolotl?” he asked, gasping for breath.

At first, Xolotl didn’t answer, nearly confirming Ehecatl’s suspicions, but then he said, “I’m fine.” His usually harsh voice carried a hint of surprise.

Within a few more steps, Ehecatl felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his left calf. He fell to his knees, the pain so intense he couldn’t even utter a sound. Looking back, he saw an arrowhead had slipped past Xolotl’s divine protection and sunk almost completely into his leg.

“Don’t stop now. You’re almost there.” Xolotl pointed ahead of them.

Ehecatl looked up to see the doorway outlined in the darkness. He struggled to stand again, gritting his teeth. Xolotl felt a little lighter now, as if he were actually holding on rather than just dangling around Ehecatl’s neck. Ehecatl took up a loping run, hoping to cover the ground in one last burst of energy, and just as his leg gave out, he and Xolotl tumbled under the stone overhang shielding the doorway.

He lay still, gulping air. The rest of his body seemed unwilling to move. Or so he thought until Xolotl ripped the arrowhead out of his leg. He rolled over and howled in agony.

“You wouldn’t make it far with this in your leg.” Xolotl held up the long, bloody arrowhead. “Lay still and I’ll dress your wound.” He tore the bottom strip off his tunic and tied it around the wound. “Now rest.”

Xolotl’s unexpected kindness startled Ehecatl, but he thanked him without question. He listened to the tinking of the arrowheads raining beyond the overhang, the pain in his leg growing steadily more distant in his mind.

“Wake up.”

Ehecatl jolted awake. Xolotl was back in dog form and staring down at him. Ehecatl tried to sit up but every muscle in his body protested. “What happened?”

“You were sleeping,” Xolotl said.

“But I don’t sleep,” Ehecatl muttered, making himself sit up.

“You just did, for more than a day, and now we must hurry,” Xolotl replied. “You cannot take more than four days to make the descent to Mictlan, if you wish to ever leave again. Any longer and Death will claim you.”

Ehecatl struggled to his feet, his body feeling as if someone had tied heavy rocks to it. “What has happened to me? Why do I feel so horrible?” He clutched his gut, which was making strange gurgling noises.

“Now you know what it’s like to be a human: weak, fragile and hungry. That’s their lot in life.”

“It’s horrible,” Ehecatl muttered.

Xolotl laughed. “And you’re the one who wishes to bring them back.”

It is cruel to recreate humanity if all they have to look forward to is a life of pain and unhappiness, Ehecatl thought. He wouldn’t wish anyone to feel like he did right now, particularly that throbbing ache in his belly that he didn’t know what to do about. He looked back through the storm of arrows and wondered why he’d agreed to this task. Because you wanted glory. You wanted to be more important than just the blowing wind. It all seemed stupidly selfish now.

But he couldn’t turn back; not if he ever wanted to see the sun again.

~

Ehecatl quickly noticed a trend in the obstacles he faced: they were all designed to crush his will and his spirit, and make him long for the nothingness of eternal rest.

He crossed a river roiling with giant snakes that tried to drown him, but he escaped when he startled them by speaking their language—all the gods could speak the language of every creature on earth and he was thankful that Lord Death hadn’t been able to take that ability from him. In their surprise, the snakes loosen their coils just long enough for him to worm free.

After that came the mountain of obsidian blades that cut his feet and hands so deep he thought he wouldn’t be able to go on. “Not far now,” Xolotl always told him. He bandaged Ehecatl’s wounds and nudged him along when he thought he’d rather lay upon a rock and let Lord Death pick the flesh from his bones. “You can’t give up now. You’re nearly at the end.”

They scaled a mountain crumbling from earthquakes. The violent shaking reduced the dirt under Ehecatl’s feet to a river-like slide that swept him back every time he made headway.

“Not far now,” Xolotl said when they reached the summit.

“You always say that,” Ehecatl panted, wishing he could lie down and sleep again.

“But I mean it this time. Just down there, in the darkness, is the last obstacle.” Xolotl began trotting down the hill.

“What is it?”

“It’s for you to find out.”

The descent went much quicker than the climb up, thanks to the steepness and constant rumbling, which made Ehecatl tumble most of the way down. When he reached the bottom—scraped and bleeding from gashes all over his body—he leaned against the rock face, cringing in pain as he caught his breath. Only one more to go. You can’t give up now.

Ehecatl expected to find another doorway at the bottom of the mountain, but instead there was an open plain of dirt and rocks. Mist floated specter-like in the air. A solitary rectangular-shaped boulder sat a ways out and Xolotl headed for it. Ehecatl followed, swaying on his feet.

When they reached the boulder, Ehecatl found a bowl and flint knife sitting atop it. He picked up the knife and looked around, expecting a gruesome monster to charge from the mist, but the air remained absolutely silent. Even the mountain had ceased its rumblings. “I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do,” Ehecatl said.

“You must give your heart to the god of death,” Xolotl answered.

Ehecatl clutched his chest. “Do you mean cut out my own heart?”

“And put it in the bow, for Lord Death to eat.”

Ehecatl looked at the boulder behind him and now he saw the bloodstains—darkened patches on the face and in the cracks and crevices. Even the ground around the base was a darker shade of gray, where the blood of millions had dampened it. Feelings of both dread and revulsion rose in him.

“Your time is nearly up,” Xolotl reminded him.

Ehecatl turned the blade towards his bare chest. He saw a mess of cuts and scrapes, some scabbed over, some wrapped in bandages while still others wept fresh blood. He’d suffered so much, and now Mictlantecuhtli demanded he inflict the worse injury with his own hand, demanded he give him his heart?

That I give him my devotion, Ehecatl realized. No god had convinced humanity to worship them in life, but Mictlantecuhtli forced them to give it to him before they could rest in death.

Ehecatl stared at the knife, his anger rising, then he threw the blade against the boulder. It shattered into many pieces. “No.”

“No?” Xolotl asked.

“No!” Ehecatl shouted. “I won’t do it! I won’t give Mictlantecuhtli my heart or my devotion. He’s caused me nothing but pain and anguishing since I entered his realm; he’s tried to drown me, struck me with arrows, made me walk on blades until my feet looked like someone ground them up on a metlatl stone. He doesn’t deserve my heart, and I won’t give it to him!” He slapped the clay bowl off the altar and it shattered on the ground. “Hear me, Lord Death! I won’t play your games anymore!” He paced for a moment, muttering, “It’s no wonder humanity doesn’t worship us. We give them no reason to love us.”

“What does love have to do with anything?” a new voice asked and Ehecatl turned to see Lord Death sitting on a throne next to the altar. He held the fingers of his bone-hands together before his skull-face, which was covered with a thin, transparent layer of skin. Around his neck hung a garland of extruded eyeballs. His own eyes were missing, replaced with a faint blue glow that flickered like a distant fire. Over his skeleton body he wore a robe of black and brown owl feathers, and he crowned his skull with a matching headdress. His throne, like himself, was made of bones, each covered in a layer of jade, and under his feet, worms and beetles broke out of the earth and scurried about. He always attracted such company everywhere he touched, which was why his touch meant death to mortals. “We don’t require their love, Ehecatl. We demand only that they respect us as their creators.”

“Fear isn’t respect,” Ehecatl said.

“It’s enough.” Mictlantecuhtli stretched his thin skin into a smile. “I didn’t truly expect you to give me your heart, though I’ll admit to a certain curiosity as to what eating a god’s heart might feel like.”

Ehecatl curled his lip.

“You sought audience with me, so speak,” Mictlantecuhtli replied.

“I’ve come for the bones of humanity.”

Mictlantecuhtli laughed. “Let me guess: you’re going to try to use them to make the new generation. A laudable plan, small breeze, but it reeks of stupidity. You have neither the power nor the knowledge to do that, you simpleton. Besides, I just finished covering them with jade and I’ve grown rather fond of looking at them.” He caressed the side of his throne with his bony fingers.

“I won’t leave without one,” Ehecatl replied.

“So insistent you are.” Mictlantecuhtli considered him for a moment then said, “Very well, I’ll give you a bone, but first—” He kicked a fist-sized stone over to Ehecatl. “You will play me a pretty little whistling song with this rock, and dance around my throne four times.”

Ehecatl picked up the rock. There were no holes in it; the stone was heavy and solid. “And if I can’t?”

“Then you will take my knife and cut your own heart out for me to feast upon,” Mictlantecuhtli answered with bated breath.

Ehecatl scowled at him. “Then I shall make music for you, Lord Death.”

“And I will enjoy watching you try, my boy.”

Ehecatl scrutinized the rock for a moment. He couldn’t possibly make music with a solid stone. What had he gotten himself into? He glanced at the insects streaming up from the ground and crawling over Mictlantecuhtli’s bone feet, and he suddenly smiled. Everything he touches attracts insects. Mictlantecuhtli had touched the stone, so there would be insects inside, and if he could talk to them….

“I’m waiting,” Mictlantecuhtli said with a deep smile.

Ehecatl put his lips to the stone and whispered. “Carve your prison until it echoes then burrow towards Heaven. Seek the air, seek your freedom.” He removed his lips.

Mictlantecuhtli put his bony hand to his nonexistent ear. “I don’t believe I heard anything. Pity. It was worth a try though.”

“I’m not done,” Ehecatl said.

Lord Death crossed his bone-legs and lounged back in his throne, waiting.

Ehecatl watched the surface of the stone for any signs of the insects emerging. As the moments passed, thoughts of having to cut his own heart out needled him more and more, and he felt a strange sickness growing in the pit of his stomach.

But then the first worm poked its head out of the rock. Relief swept over Ehecatl as six more appeared, each from its own tunnel along the face of the stone, and one from the end. “Thank you friends.” Ehecatl knelt to the ground and brushed them gently off. The moment he touched them, they transformed into butterflies and began fluttering away across the plain.

Lord Death was no longer smiling.

Ehecatl blew into the stone at the end and began playing a whistling song, changing notes with the newly-drilled finger-holes. He danced around the throne, playing a joyful tune. Once he circled it the fourth time, he stopped in front of Mictlantecuhtli and continued playing, leaning forward and bobbing his head with each changing note. He finished with a flourish then tossed the stone into Lord Death’s lap. “I’ll take my bone now, thank you.”

Mictlantecuhtli lunged to his feet, towering over Ehecatl. “You cheated!” he boomed.

“You made the rules,” Ehecatl replied. “You gave me the stone and told me to make music with it, and I did just that.”

Lord Death moved as if to strangle Ehecatl, but he stopped a hair’s breadth from his neck. He considered Ehecatl’s face for a long moment then he reached back and pulled a leg bone off the throne. He set it gently in Ehecatl’s hands. “Congratulations, my boy. You outwitted me. Take your prize and be on your way.” He pointed to a doorway in the same rock face Ehecatl had leaned against when he came down off the mountain.

Ehecatl looked from Mictlantecuhtli to Xolotl then to the doorway. He saw brightly-lit stairs going up beyond the archway. He’d done it! He’d defeated Death. With Xolotl’s help, he reminded himself, so he turned back to Xolotl. “Thank you for guiding me.”

Xolotl nodded solemnly, and Ehecatl started towards the doorway, his prize in hand.

But as soon as he reached the stone archway, Mictlantecuhtli’s screechy voice carried like an echo across the cavern. “No one tricks Lord Death. Kill him and bring back my bone.”

Ehecatl looked back to see Xolotl running at him, shaggy hackles raised, yellowed fangs bared and his snarl rumbling like thunder. Ehecatl sprinted through the doorway and up the stairs, ignoring the protests of his exhausted legs.

Xolotl bounded through the doorway and took the steps five at a time.

Hearing him directly behind him, Ehecatl swung the bone—his only weapon—but it missed the dog’s head and the ball end shattered against the wall. Xolotl tackled him, filling his nostrils with his fetid breath. Ehecatl expected him to begin tearing into his neck.

“Don’t lie there like a fool, Ehecatl!” Xolotl whispered. “Lord Death is coming for you!”

Ehecatl stared at him, confused.

“You have a weapon, now use it!” Xolotl hissed.

Ehecatl looked at the spear-like broken end of the bone. He could stab Xolotl with it…no, he couldn’t. He was a friend.

“Sometimes we have to do what we must,” Xolotl said.

At the bottom, Mictlantecuhtli mounted the stairs, coming towards them.

“Death is coming! Do it now!”

Ehecatl stared at Xolotl for a moment, the numbness of fear settling over him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then he drove the bone’s sharp end into Xolotl’s right eye.

Xolotl howled and pulled away, gold stardust spraying all over Ehecatl’s face. Ehecatl refused to let go of the bone though. He pushed and pulled then twisted until the bone snapped in two. Xolotl tumbled down the stairs, spewing gold dust and pitiful, high-pitched cries. He struck Mictlantecuhtli and they both rolled to the bottom, Mictlantecuhtli’s skeletal body coming apart in pieces along the way.

Ehecatl clutched the bone and ran up the stairs. A new pain grew in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. It felt worse than any of his physical wounds. He sacrificed himself to help me escape. Why did he do that?

“You think you’ve won, Ehecatl, but I will have my bone back,” Mictlantecuhtli screamed after him. “With the death of every one of your new humans! They all come back to me eventually, and it’s me they always give their hearts to!”

Ehecatl continued climbing. Like the journey into Mictlan, the path out seemed to stretch on forever, the stairs never-ending and steep. Eventually Ehecatl laid down, exhausted in both body and mind, his will to go on spent. He closed his eyes and thought of home, of the clouds, of times before he’d been so foolish as to think he could ever be more than just the wind.

~

His rumbling gut drew Ehecatl from sleep. He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a bed of grass and reeds, in the shade of a large copal tree, next to a pond. Cihuacoatl sat next to a campfire just a few steps away, cooking on a stone sitting in the flames. It was the strangely alluring aroma of the food that had woken him.

When she saw him rousing, she laughed and blew a maize-cake butterfly from her hand. When it fluttered within reach, he instinctively snatched it up and stuffed it into his mouth. He’d never tasted anything so delicious. His aching stomach begged for more.

“I wouldn’t have thought a god could sleep so long,” Cihuacoatl said. “But after all you’ve been through, it doesn’t surprise me.”

Ehecatl looked at his hands, still rough with scabbed-over wounds. The rest of his body looked no better, though many of the worst wounds had been redressed or had ointment smeared over them. His muscles didn’t ache quite as much though. “I’m still human.”

“If you mean that you’re still under Lord Death’s influence, that is unlikely,” Cihuacoatl replied. “You’ll change back when you’re ready.”

“I feel ready now.” But Ehecatl didn’t feel any different for having said it.

Cihuacoatl smiled. “Apparently not. Give it time.”

“Where are we?”

“Tamoachan.”

“Where the first gods were born?”

Cihuacoatl nodded. “I found you lying on the steps from Mictlan and I brought you here. This is a place strong with the powers of creation. It will help you heal. And now that you’ve completed your task, you’ll find it to also be a good place for humanity to be reborn.”

“My task,” Ehecatl muttered. “What a waste of time that was.”

“How so?”

“Because humanity shouldn’t be recreated.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a cruel punishment to bring them back only to suffer. They should be left gone. They will not be reborn…not by my hand, anyway.”

“Is that because you feel so miserable? Because you saw what Lord Death demands of them? You would define them only by their suffering?”

Ehecatl thought of what Xolotl had said about what it was to be human. Who else would know humanity better than their guide in death? He spent more time with them any anyone. “It’s their lot in life to suffer,” Ehecatl answered. “They know nothing else.”

Cihuacoatl laughed. “You say that only because you haven’t eaten dinner yet. You will feel differently after you’ve quieted your hunger.” She took a maize flatbread from the stone and gave it to him.

“Nothing will change my mind,” Ehecatl countered before tearing into the food with ravenous hunger.

“You care for them. Huehueteotl never cared for them. He’d rail about how they were too stupid to worship him, but he never really cared for them, like he would his children. That is what they were, after all.” She handed Ehecatl a second flatbread. “You were thinking of the guide Xolotl a moment ago. Tell me about him.”

“What about him?”

“Well, what would you tell me about him?”

Ehecatl finished his hot flatbread then said, “Mictlantecuhtli ordered him to kill me and take back the bone, but instead, Xolotl told me to stab him with it, so I could escape.”

“Why ever would he do that?”

Ehecatl shrugged. “He dressed my wounds and kept me going when I thought I couldn’t go any further. All this despite him not liking me much at first, at least not until after we crossed the cavern of arrowheads. I asked him if he was okay, for he was lying so still on my back that I thought he might be hurt. I don’t suppose many show him kindness. He is a hideous-looking creature.” Nor did Mictlantecuhtli even stop to see if Xolotl was okay before yelling curses at me.

“Kindness and concern are very powerful things,” Cihuacoatl replied.

Before Ehecatl knew it, he’d eaten all the maize flatbreads and drank all the water Cihuacoatl brought for him. He couldn’t deny that he felt much better. Content as least, having sated his most persistent pains. He lay down and savored the memory of the meal, wondering if he’d miss the taste of food when he returned to Omeyocan and never again felt a desire for it.

“Sleep now,” Cihuacoatl said as she cleaned her metlatl stone. “You still have much healing to do.”

~

After a few more hours of sleep, Ehecatl rose to find Cihuacoatl gone. The jade bone sat on her grinding stone and he stared at it for a moment before going to look for her.

Dense trees surrounded the pond, though he found a path leading to an open meadow with a brook and a few sheltering trees. Deer grazed among the tall golden grasses. A good place for a human settlement, Ehecatl thought but then brushed it aside. He still had no intention of going through with their re-creation. He felt better, and stronger, and the beauty of the field and its treasures made his heart content, but always at the corner of his mind was the stone altar in Mictlan, stained with blood and forced devotion. He searched the meadow for Cihuacoatl, wondering where she’d gone, but failing to find her, he returned to the pond.

When he reached the head of the path, he saw her knelt before her metlatl stone, grinding the bone up with the hand-held mano stone. She sang a song with the most mesmerizing voice he’d ever heard. And she was completely naked. Ehecatl stared at her, marveling at how much younger she looked now, how so very beautiful—more beautiful than any flower or animal or divine sunset; they were all just pale imitations of beauty by comparison. He couldn’t will his gaze to turn away; instead he watched with rapt interest as her pendulous breasts swayed in time with her movements. The very sight of her made his heart thud and his blood pulse. He felt so very strange, so oddly pleasant. He walked slowly towards her, as if he might frighten her away if he moved too fast.

She ground the jade-covered bone to fine, light-green powder then blew the dust from the mano stone in her hand. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” she finally said with a knowing smile.

Ehecatl knelt to examine the powder, trying not to gawk at her. “I went looking for you.”

“And so you found me.”

He thought he should say something to that, but words eluded him.

Cihuacoatl laughed. “Look at you, baffled with desire. One would think there wasn’t a serpent under your skin, quetzalcoatl.” She touched his bare shoulder and Ehecatl—who’d been crouching next to her—suddenly fell to the ground, her touch startling him like a static shock. Wherever her fingers glided, feathery scales appeared. But they soon vanished under his human skin again. He watched her trace her fingers over his bare chest, feeling dizzy.

“There’s a creator god under all this somewhere,” she murmured, poking gently at his ribs.

This time her touch uncovered more than just feathers. The magic in her fingers seeped deep inside him, awaking his own magic in new and exciting ways. He felt aflame inside and, irrational as it seemed, he felt positive the only way to quell it was to kiss her. So he did.

“There he is,” Cihuacoatl said once Ehecatl parted his lips from hers. “So new and ready to learn his special creation gifts.”

“Teach me,” he pleaded.

She laughed and pushed him gently onto his back on the grass. She closed his eyelids with her fingertips. Her touch reignited the flames under his skin, but he trembled as if ice crawled through his flesh.

He also felt something else growing deep inside. He could see it in his mind: a star, steadily expanding and pulsing as it aged, a billion years in every second that passed. Its colors changed in intensity the larger it grew, its heat reaching every remote corner of his body, until the once-little star reached critical mass and blew itself apart in a supernova, raining a mist of joy and pleasure over every particle of his being. All the misery and pain he’d felt vanished, like sand-drawings swept clean by rushing waves.

“And you thought humans knew nothing but suffering,” Cihuacoatl said with a laugh.

Ehecatl breathed a pleasant sigh and opened his eyes to find everything changed in subtle but strangely vivid ways, as if there were shadows now where before there’d been none. Even Cihuacoatl looked different. Her skin shimmered like wet snake scales, but she was soft as cumulus clouds. So that’s why she’s named Snake Woman, he thought dreamily. Feathery scales of his own had begun appearing on his arms.

“Now you’re ready to bring humanity forth,” she told him.

The memory of the stone in Mictlan came again, bringing with it reminders of pain and suffering, but now there was also a new voice in his head. True, humanity will suffer, but they’ve never known the love of a god before. Mictlantecuhtli can’t take their hearts if they’ve already give them to another. “Yes, it will be better for them this time,” he murmured.

Cihuacoatl smiled. “Then go make your sacrifice, quetzalcoatl.”

They sat around the metlatl stone and Cihuacoatl handed Ehecatl a flint knife. He felt no need to ask what to do with it; a few moments ago he would have stared at it in puzzlement, but now he knew precisely what to do. He was a creator god now. He cut his genitals and bled them onto the stone, his eyes squeezed shut against the burning pain. Remember me in your hearts as your creator. From my body I give you life; not from the dust of gods, but from blood like your own. Remember what trials I endured to bring you back from the underworld, to let you walk in the sunshine again, to smell the fragrant flowers, to know the joys of making children. Remember all this, but above all, remember that though you and your children and their children will always have my love and understanding, you need only give me what I have earned in return.

He opened his eyes to find his human body gone. He’d transformed into a magnificent feathered-serpent, his body covered in delicate white plumage and around his neck the long, emerald tail-feathers of the precious quetzal bird. Was this why Cihuacoatl always called him quetzalcoatl? Was this how she’d always seen him?

Cihuacoatl mixed the blood and ground bone together into a paste which she molded with her hands, one half into a man, the other half into a woman. Ehecatl watched with eager anticipation as Cihuacoatl breathed life into their nostrils. They finally drew in their first lungful of air and opened their eyes.

But when they saw him, they both shrieked in terror. Ehecatl drew back, startled. They clambered down off the stone and ran into the trees, their panicked cries fading slowly.

“They’re terrified of me,” he whispered, crushed.

“Give them time,” Cihuacoatl said.

Ehecatl shook his head. “I’ve failed, just like everyone else. Perhaps Mictlantecuhtli was right; maybe the only way to convince humanity to acknowledge us is to force them to.”

But that step he was unwilling to take.

~

For years, Ehecatl laid curled up on a cloud in the garden in Omeyocan, refusing to look down on his creations. Some might have thought his isolation a sign that he’d abandoned them, but in fact he couldn’t help feeling he was being kinder by remaining out of sight and leaving them in peace. Especially when he remembered those expressions of abject terror on their faces when they’d seen him.

“Everyone’s pleased with what you’ve created,” Cihuacoatl told him. “Already the two have become four. The man seems intent on spending all his time in the woods rather than with the woman and children, but that’s something we can fix in time. You should be proud, Ehecatl. They’re a remarkable success, for your first creation.”

Ehecatl merely sighed.

Cihuacoatl came often to tell him the new things his humans had done, like crafting tools or building houses. Then one morning, she came to the garden and said, “You’ve sat here like moss on a stone long enough. You must see something.”

After some more prodding, Ehecatl followed Cihuacoatl down to Tamoachan. The pond looked just as he remembered it, but when he slithered closer to the copal tree, he noticed someone had scratched a crude drawing of a snake into the bark. At the foot sat a package of deer meat, wrapped in leaves and decorated with a snake-fang necklace. Ehecatl stared at it, his voice caught in his throat as he realized what it was.

“They’re worshipping you,” Cihuacoatl whispered. She wiped the tears from his feathery cheeks with gentle fingers. “Mictlantecuhtli was wrong, see? They will give their hearts freely, to the one who deserves it. And that was you.”

~    ~    ~

First published in Space & Time, 2011