Where The Gods Sleep

Beneath the endless canopy of stars, atop the grand temple of Tenochtitlan, Ahuitzotl stood beside the young Montezuma, gazing upward as though peering into the eyes of the gods themselves. Fires flickered from temples below, casting long, dancing shadows across the sprawling city, a city built from conquest, devotion, and sacrifice.

"Behold, Montezuma," Ahuitzotl began, his voice rich with reverence and power, "above us watches Huitzilopochtli, god of war and sun, whose strength fills our warriors' hearts. It is under his fierce gaze that I have led our people from humble beginnings to unmatched greatness."

His mind wandered back through the tides of time, recalling his fierce campaigns. First was the conquest of Oaxaca, a city that dared challenge the supremacy of the Mexica. Ahuitzotl remembered the cries of battle, the clash of obsidian blades, the taste of sweat and blood mingling beneath the scorching sun. He had called upon Huitzilopochtli and Tezcatlipoca, the Smoking Mirror, who granted him the cunning needed to see through the enemy's defenses.

"I led our jaguar warriors in a fierce charge," he recounted, eyes alight with the flames of memory. "The gods demanded blood, and we offered it freely. Victory came swift, our enemies kneeling before us, their hearts offered to nourish the sun."

Montezuma listened intently, eyes wide, absorbing each word, each lesson, each divine mystery.

Ahuitzotl continued, his voice growing more passionate. "And when we marched southward, into the lush jungles to subjugate those who defied our might, Quetzalcoatl himself seemed to guide our steps. The Feathered Serpent blessed our blades, led our warriors, and whispered strategies that crushed our enemies. Great cities fell beneath us, their treasures enriching our empire, their gods bowing to ours."

The conquests brought glory and wealth, but Ahuitzotl taught Montezuma a greater lesson—the gods demanded constant vigilance. For the Mexica, victory was not merely earthly but cosmic. The heavens themselves required blood and devotion, and every city conquered expanded not just the empire, but the sacred balance.

"Remember, my nephew, our power comes not from our strength alone, but from our faith. We conquer in the name of our gods; we sacrifice so the sun may rise again each day."

Yet, amidst the glory lay hidden warnings. Omens had begun, whispers from priests about ill signs and portents. Stars had shifted strangely, a comet streaked ominously, and the sacred flames flickered uncertainly. Ahuitzotl himself had dreamed vividly of strange beings arriving, riding massive beasts, their eyes cold and hungry.

Still, Ahuitzotl pressed on, firm in his conviction. Under his command, the Mexica's empire stretched further than ever before, from the arid northern deserts to the southern seas, his name etched alongside the great kings who came before.

Years passed. Age softened Ahuitzotl's limbs but sharpened his wisdom. Now, beneath the star-filled sky, he passed this legacy to Montezuma, soon to rule the mighty empire.

But even as he spoke, the winds whispered warnings. Unknown to them both, from the eastern horizon, beyond the waves of the great ocean, ships with sails like wings of giant white birds approached. And aboard these vessels stood Cortés—destiny and doom intertwined, approaching swiftly toward shores that knew not what awaited.

Ahuitzotl, gazing out toward the distant, dark ocean, paused, feeling an unexplained chill. He gripped Montezuma's shoulder, his voice grave yet defiant. "The gods watch us closely, nephew. Our time of greatest trial may yet lie ahead."

Far beyond sight, Cortés stepped onto unfamiliar sands, eyes narrowed, setting in motion a collision of worlds that would forever alter history.