Cuathli sat in front of Xochipilli's sculpture. He heard his stomach rumbling, but he ignored it. Moreover, he expected it. After all, he hadn't eaten anything for a few days already.
All this time he remained in seclusion, not consuming any food, limiting himself only to water. He prayed and meditated without rest. This morning he underwent a ritual of purification in water with marigolds. All this to prepare his body and soul for the ritual.
Now purified both physically and spiritually, he sat at the top of the holy pyramid, in front of the Flower Prince's sculpture.
Wisp of smoke from an incense danced in the air. Its smell was irritating Cuathli's nose. The smell of coal and marigolds filled his nostrils.
The temple was decorated with garlands and wreaths.
Temple musicians stood by his side, ready to play their instruments.
To his right was a basket full of marigolds, orchids, and hibiscuses that had just been picked, and on which one could still see traces of the morning dew.
To his left was paper and tools to record the vision he would receive.
In front of him, within reach of his hand, was a small sacrificial bowl in which a fire was burning, ready to receive the flowers.
Between him and the bowl was a jug filled with pulque. The holy drink that led Tlacotzin to the temple steps; perhaps this time it will give the man an answer as to the young man's fate. However, it was not the same pulque. Cuathli wanted to receive the strongest possible vision, so he decided to amplify the drink's power. To connect the drink with Xochipilli even stronger, it included dried orchid and hibiscus petals. To give the vision more power, a small amount of datura was added to open the mind to divine messages, and salvia divinorum to open the mind to divine messages even further. In order to additionally bring him into a state of divine ecstasy, honey was added to the pulque; it not only improved the taste of the drink, but also connected it with the joy of life. And marigolds to open the path between the mortal and gods realm.
He gestured to the acolytes. They began to cense him with smoke from the incense.
He did everything he could to make the ritual as powerful as possible. The only question now was whether his lord would consider him worthy of receiving the vision.
"Xochipilli, Flower Prince, Lord of Joy, You Who Hear Every Melody, I, your servant Cuathli, am before you."
The temple musicians began to play a lively and joyful melody. Cuathli reached into the bowl and began to throw flowers into it.
"I have purified my body and soul to be worthy of your holy presence."
The musicians played the melody louder and louder.
"Please, listen to my words and answer me, for I am in great distress."
The melody grew in intensity. The incense seemed to obscure everything except Xochipilli's sculpture. As if to hide everything that was not connected with the divine plan.
"Guided by the vision I received from you, I found Tlacotzin on the steps of your temple. But I am unable to guess your will. Please, help me, as I am very troubled."
With a heavy heart, he asked the question. He felt an invisible force squeezing his throat, pins of pain thrust into his heart, mind and soul. He felt fear. But he had to do it. If he didn't confront it, not only would he be unable to move forward, but he will endanger the entire community, including Tlacotzin.
"Shall Tlacotzin join me as your servant in the mortal realm, or go to your divine kingdom through the techcatl stone?"
The last flower burned in the incense. Everything seemed to be hidden behind a curtain of smoke. The musicians played as intensely as if they wanted to tear apart the barrier between the mortal and gods realm. Cuathli reached for a vessel filled with holy liquid.
He hesitated for a moment. What if he doesn't get the vision, or got the one he was so afraid of? He took a breath in through his nose; the smell of incense filled his nostrils. He recalled the vision he wished to see. Tlacotzin would become a priest, marry acolytes, and have children whose joyful laughter would fill the sacred gardens. It was the future he wished for, but would he get it?
"Xochipilli, lead me in this sacred ritual."
Cuathli put the vessel to his mouth and drank until it was empty.
When he put it down, he felt dizzy. Wisp of smoke seemed to swirl around the statue. The colors sharpened, becoming extremely vivid. Music was ringing in his ears. After that, everything began to mix with each other, and then the vision engulfed him.
***
Tlacotzin was in a ritual prison. He was surrounded by those closest to him: Meya, Nenetzi, Xilonen, Izel and Itzcoalt.
He always felt safe in this place and was surrounded by people he trusted. He should have been calm, but he wasn't. He was shaking and holding his head.
Everyone was worried about him. Itzcoalt had a feeling it was because of the ritual of the question Cuathli was about to perform today. Xilonen gently hugged him, and the other girls placed their hands on him as if they wanted to send him a part of the peace they felt.
"Tlaco, what happened?"
Meya swallowed. Tlacotzin had the same expression he had after reciving a vision sent to him after putting on his mother's amulet. She began to worry.
"Girls, I love you very much and I want to be with you. I really want to be with you, but it's impossible. I'm going to die. They'll sacrifice me."
Tears flowed from Tlacotiz's eyes. The girls held their breaths. Itzcoatl was trying to sound confident, but there was panic in his voice:
"Tlacotzin, you don't need to be so nervous. I talked to Cuathli. There's no omen that hints that you should be sacrificed."
"Exactly. If there are no omens, then no one will try to force the sacrifice ritual."
"Izel's right. Maybe we'll think of a melody that we could offer Cuathli."
Nenetzi smiled at him. But that didn't calm him. Tlacotzin looked at her.
"Nenetzi, remember when you put my mother's amulet on me?"
The girl nodded.
"I had a vision. I saw my parents in a beautiful flower garden. They led me to the techcatl stone. I'm sure it was the same one that's on the Xochipilli's pyramid."
Tlacotzin was terrified. Cuathli was holding a ritual of questioning. He figured it was about him. The girls he loved and his friend trembled. Techcatl stone – that's where the chosen are laid to be sacrificed to the gods. Tlacotzin was led to that stone. Then Xilonen spoke. She tried to sound as confident as she could, but her voice trembled like a leaf on the wind.
"Tlacotzin, you shouldn't panic. Not every techcatl is for making sacrifices."
Xilonen told about her adventure and confession in the Tlazolteotl's temple. Others picked up the topic and tried to support Xilonen's thesis as much as possible.
"I'm sure that you'll have to play a melody better than any other existing. You're a great musician, you can do it."
Before anyone could say anything more, they heard a sound that sounded like a dead body falling to the floor. When they turned toward the source of the sound, they saw Cuathli lying on the floor.
They quickly got up and soon after surrounded the man.
He was pale, as if his soul left his body. His eyes were red and he could hardly breathe. He tried to move, but was unable to get up.
"He'll be fine. He just needs to rest. The substance used to induce the vision must have been really powerful."
Izel knew about medicine, so she was able to assess the priest's condition.
"Hey, Xilonen, tell us a joke. As usual."
Izel felt panicked. Usually Xilonen would have already started joking. But she knelt beside the priest with a stiff face. It wasn't 'as usual'. She realized her friend was terrified too. All of them swallowed and shivered.
Cuathli lay awake and was looking up at the sky.
Everyone wanted to ask the same question. The one who did it was Itzcoalt.
"What did you see?"
They all were tense like bowstrings. They fell silent. Cuathli opened his mouth. He looked as if every word was hurting him. For a moment his mouth opened and closed as if he were a fish taken out of water, and then he spoke.
How much he didn't want to go back to that nightmare... To the vision of a dead world devoid of life and joy.
***
Cuathli perfectly remembered the vision he had received. Every detail of it. Everything he experienced.
The first sensation was a deaf sound. It wasn't like hitting a drum or a thin wall. It was a flat sound. Hollow and empty, as if someone had pulled out of it everything that could be connected with life.
When his vision sharpened, he felt fear. Everything he saw, everything around him, was dead.
The world was gray as if made of ash.
The world was silent, devoid of even the quietest sound.
The world was sad and depressing, without the slightest trace of joy.
The dead, gray, and dry trees looked like pathetic skeletons. Miserable shadows of mighty trees. Around their roots lay rotten fruit.
The meadows, which should have been full of flowers, seemed to be covered with ash. When he bent down to touch the marigold flower in front of him, it just fell apart. There was no life in it. It was nothing but dust.
The fields, which should have been full of the gifts of the earth, were empty. Nothing grew there. Only piles of ash and rot were there.
There were no animals or birds. However, they must have been here before, because their bones were sticking out of the ashes.
What he saw could not be true. Not even Mictlan, the land of the dead, could be so lifeless.
At that moment, he saw Xochipilli's pyramid emerge from the ashes. A young man hovered over it.
He recognized him.
It was Xochipilli.
The pyramid seemed to be the only source of colour, sound, joy and life in this dead world. When Cuathli looked closer, he saw that Xochipilli was sending energy through the pyramid to give life to this land. For a moment he felt hope, but he lost it very soon. Soon after the place where the life-giving energy flowed was again dead and gray.
Cuathli thought how to restore life to this dead land.
At this moment, Tlacotzin appeared. Cuathli was speechless, the land around him began to turn green, the grass grew and was covered with flowers.
It was as he thought. Tlacotzin had great spiritual power. But even this hope was a vain one. When Tlacotzin left the place where he stood, life also left it.
His power was great, but not enough to give this land lasting life.
Xochipilli stretched out his hand toward the young man, who began to walk toward the pyramid. Cuathli also followed him to the top of the pyramid.
At its top, Tlacotzin began to play his flute. From his flute, along with the music, orchid flowers and pochotes flew out. They flew to the god. Beauty and artistry, together with the symbolic combination of heaven and earth.
The melody gave Xochipilli power and he could send his energy further, but it was still too weak to give this world lasting life.
At that moment, Meya, Nenetzi, Xilonen and Izel emerged from the corners. They began to dance to the Tlacotzin's music. The girls spun, jumped a bit and waved to the music played by their beloved. Every move they made was creating dhalias and tlacoxochitls. Energy and beauty in motion with dynamics and changeability.
Xochipilli gained even more power, but it was still not strong enough to provide the world with lasting life.
A flower bed appeared on the stones.
Tlacotzin and the girls laid themselves on it and united in a ritual intercourse. Their every move, their every moan, sent red hibiscus and vanilla flowers to the god. Lust, love, passion and eroticism combined with tenderness and amorousness.
Cuathli had many years of experience and accumulated wisdom. Music, dance and ritual intercourse. They were all strong in power, yet too weak to give this dead world the blessing of life. Was there anything that could give the world a lasting life?
Then, as if in answer to his question, the techcatl stone emerged from the temple floor. Tlacotzin lay on it. A marigold flower appeared on his chest, and flew towards the god in a wisp of smoke.
Then a wave of energy spread from the whole pyramid.
The trees grew large and powerful, bloomed with leaves and flowers, and their branches bent under the weight of ripe fruit.
The meadows were covered with lush green and beautiful flowers.
The fields yielded a great harvest. Corn stalks grew, and their flasks were filled with grains. Bushes were full of bean, tomato, and pepper. It was hard to believe that pumpkins could be so big.
Birds flew in the sky and animals roamed the ground.
Life returned to this world. Thousands of colours, thousands of joys, and thousands of sounds.
There was no sorrow, no ash, no death.
Only joy and life.
Cuathli was delighted to see this magnificent sight and turned to Tlacotzin, who lay on the stone. He wasn't dead, but asleep. He'll wake him up. He'll show him this beauty. Who deserved to enjoy it more than him?
As he approached, the young musician's body flashed and turned into a butterfly that flew toward Xochipilli.
Cuathli fell to his knees.
He understood. He understood everything.
Xochipilli gave life to the mortal realm, but he himself needed a source of energy. It was Tlacotzin's heart.
It was clear – Tlacotzin must give his life in exchange for the future of the entire community. And the one who would offer his heart to Xochipilli would be his high priest... He... Cuathli... had to kill someone who was like a born son to him.
"Xochipilli, my lord! How am I supposed to live after something like this?! Why should I live?!"
At this moment, the canna flowers appeared on the acolytes' womb. Resilient flowers, resistant to harsh conditions, meaning fertility, rebirth and new life.
Tlacotzin will die, but he will leave behind his offsprings.
Cuathli cried. The world was blending in.
The vision was over.