Stories from the depths of time—where gods walk among men, and darkness whispers forgotten truths.
Tlazolteotl – The Devourer of Sins
Beneath the crimson glow of the dying sun, she stood—wrapped in the silence of the ancients...
The air reeked of burning copal, a scent thick with absolution. The penitent knelt before her, their voices trembling as they whispered their final confessions. Tlazolteotl, draped in obsidian robes, extended her hand. In the shadows of the temple, sins became smoke—consumed by the devourer, dissolved into the nothingness that lay beyond human atonement. She did not judge. She did not forgive. She only erased.
Tezcatlipoca – The Whispering Mirror
In the obsidian depths of his mirror, fate unraveled thread by thread...
The black glass swirled with shadows, twisting and contorting with visions of futures not yet lived. A warrior approached, trembling, the firelight unable to warm his skin. Tezcatlipoca’s laughter echoed through the void, his jaguar form slinking between the columns of the ruined temple. "Look," he whispered, his voice silk and smoke. "See what you are destined to become." The reflection did not lie. It only revealed what the world refused to see.
Huitzilopochtli – The War God’s Reckoning
The battlefield was soaked in gold and blood, the sun standing still in reverence...
His warriors moved like storm clouds, swift and merciless, their blades singing the hymn of sacrifice. In the heart of the temple, Huitzilopochtli watched, his form wreathed in celestial fire, his serpent-club dripping with the weight of conquest. The gods did not favor the weak. Blood must be spilled, and the sun must be fed. As the final warrior fell, he raised his hand. The sky turned red. The cycle began again.
