Blood & Fur-Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Quest

The red-eyed priests loved telling tales of heroes sent by the gods on holy missions.

It was one such quest that led to the founding of Yohuachanca in the first place, according to their false history, when the dark god that gave the empire its name ascended to the sky as the newest sun and asked his daughters to maintain the covenant that kept the world alive.

That story was devoid of any truth—the only covenant the Nightlords maintained was the one between themselves, written in their betrayed father’s blood—but it echoed many other tales stolen from older legends. The gods often gave men tasks such as raising cities in their honor, fighting monsters threatening the cosmic order, or building monuments that would endure for countless eons.

But the gods were all dead, their followers left adrift in a now doomed world. I must have been the first man in centuries to receive such a request; especially one with such a heavy reward.

“A quest for redemption?” I repeated. “For light?”

“Both are yet within your reach, Iztac Ce Ehecatl,” Topiltzin confirmed with a nod heavy with centuries of existence. I could see the dust falling off his ancient bones with each movement. “Although you have come to this domain drenched in innocent blood, Quetzalcoatl has taken notice of your efforts to change and atone for your past crimes. The Feathered Serpent will give you a chance to earn the audience you so desperately seek… and mayhaps his blessing.”

My hands clutched the skull in my palm. The weight of over six hundred emperors and one father of mine didn’t feel half as consequential as the undead priest’s words.

I still had a chance to clear this layer, to gather the Second Sun’s embers in time to burn the Nightlords with their radiance.

“What must I do?” I asked.

“What you must do?” Topiltzin’s empty eyes flickered with ghostlight. “You misunderstand. This task is not for you alone to accomplish.”

The implications dawned upon me when Mother materialized among us at long last. The witch appeared from the shadows, her spirit descending into the Underworld to join mine. She gazed at Topiltzin, and then at Father and I without a word. She didn’t need an explanation to guess our situation.

Quetzalcoatl’s quest involved our entire family.

“One of your lost children haunts these cursed lands,” Topiltzin declared, his voice brimming with solemn grief. “An innocent soul that was denied the chance to be born and turned into a wrathful demon in death. The Feathered Serpent weeps for this poor creature and would see this injustice overturned.”

“How?” Father’s spirit asked through his skull.

“The answer to this question is yours to discover, and will determine your journey’s end,” Topiltzin replied without elaborating. “Purify the child and right your wrongs. This is all I can say.”

My jaw tightened. This quest was a trial of the soul. Quetzalcoatl had given us a chance to prove that we are worthy to inherit his embers, the same way he sent his priest to preach a better future to this layer’s damned souls, but his benediction would not come free. It would be purchased with sweat and honest work.

Hope was always cruel in its temptations.

“The morning star’s glow shall guide you to the child,” Topiltzin said, his staff pointing at Quetzalcoatl’s distant sun. “Follow its trail through the darkness, and you will soon reach your destination.”

“How long will it take?” I dared to ask.

The ancient priest studied the three of us for a while before answering. “That depends on you all.”

Topiltzin stomped the ground with his staff, and a great gust of wind burst forth out of nowhere. A dirtstorm swallowed us in an instant and I covered my face with my arm. Topiltzin was nowhere to be seen when the dust settled at long last.

“That one is not what he seems,” Father muttered.

I nodded in agreement. Topiltzin enjoyed Quetzalcoatl’s favor enough to preach to this layer’s damned souls under his protection and speak with his voice. The way he carried himself felt… heavier than any mortal I’d encountered, even one of heroic stature.

Have I ever used the Gaze on him? I suddenly wondered. Considering all the wicked abominations haunting this layer, I realized I should be wary of lies and illusions. I cannot rule out trickery.

However, it wasn’t like we had any better options to earn an audience with Lord Quetzalcoatl. I had always intended to track down my… my child… on my own, so I would accept this task.

I turned to Mother, who held my gaze without a word. Her hands rubbed her arms so intensely that I feared she would scratch off her skin and draw blood. I had seen her crying in guilt, frozen in fear, and deeply unsettled… but never so embarrassed.

This situation was as new to her as it was to me, and Mother hated being clueless more than anything.

I couldn’t say I knew any better. I had grown to see Mother as a selfish coward, who would rather throw her entire family to the wolves than risk herself; yet when all hope seemed lost and a vampiric demigoddess threatened to crush me, she took a leap of faith and came to my rescue. Mother came to defend me when victory was nowhere near guaranteed.

Father had been right. Deep down, she did love me enough to fight for my life.

And now… now that I had let her back into my life, into Nenetl’s life, neither of us had any idea how to proceed from there. The only mother figure in my life had been Necahual, and I wouldn’t say our relationship had been a model of a functional family.

So many conflicting feelings and thoughts crossed my mind as I faced Mother. I wanted to thank her for coming to my rescue against Sugey, as much as a part of me suspected she only acted now because it had been a unique opportunity to destroy a Nightlord. One act of kindness didn’t erase all the years of abandonment, her previous manipulations, or the fact that she also cast aside Nenetl… though I guess it was a start.

In the end, neither of us found the strength to break the awkward silence settling between us; except Father himself. His skull’s eyes flickered with flames warmer than the sun.

“Thank you, Ichtaca,” Father said, both on his and my behalf. “Thank you for saving our son in his hour of need. Iztac has no idea how to express his gratitude yet, but I know he feels the same.”

My father understood us both too well.

Mother bristled. If anything, she seemed even more embarrassed than before. “If he wishes to thank me, then he should remember his promise,” she said, though I didn’t need the Gaze to tell that her heart wasn’t in it. “I will have what I am owed.”

Father wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “I know you acted without expecting a reward, my love. There is no shame in saying so.”

Mother scowled and looked away. Even now, she considered open displays of affection and vulnerability to be a weakness.

“You were late,” was all I could think to say at that moment.

“Your wife wanted us to speak about her sister, Astrid,” Mother replied. If anything, she had an easier time discussing our future plans than her own feelings. “I promised her she was safe and that we could recover her soon.”

“We should.” Using her and Fjor remained our best option to take out Iztacoatl, especially now that the latter would likely stay on her guard from now on. “Where is she?”

“In a Sapa town close to our location. Manco will likely retreat there, so we can kill two birds with one stone.”

Another battle would soon be upon us then. I better rest and recover in order to wage it. The Mallquis were no Nightlords, but they had proved capable of shaking the very earth and casting powerful spells. I would not underestimate them.

Moreover… Quetzalcoatl had ordered me to right my wrongs, and I’d promised I would change myself. I was sick of the constant violence and murders I’d grown accustomed to. While I intended to drag the Mallquis off their thrones and change the Sapa’s system for the better, I would rather avoid further bloodshed.

I’d shed my guise of a puppet emperor. I had no masters left to answer to, no public image of cruelty to maintain… yet trying to approach the Sapa as an ally wouldn’t work. Inkarri had made it clear he would never stop trying to kill me, because he understood I was an existential threat to his regime. The calamities plaguing the world in my wake would only worsen his distrust. I needed a way to show, without a doubt, that my feud was only with the Mallquis and not with the people; that I was the latter’s friend against the forces that would do them harm.

I needed to consult my advisors on that front.

“Very well,” I replied. “As for you, mother… I shall fulfill my side of our agreement once we reach the city. If Father wishes it.”

Mother looked at me and then gave me a small nod. She had promised me her assistance with Eztli’s soul-transfer ritual if I would allow Father to briefly possess me and let him hold her in his arms, and she had fulfilled her end of our bargain. I would do the same when time would allow it, though considering Father’s silence I had my doubts that he would go along with it.

“Iztac,” Father said, his voice quieter than a whisper. “I have a request of my own, if you would kindly indulge your poor father.”

“You know I could never deny you anything,” I replied, suddenly all ears. Others would have called me a fool for agreeing to a proposal before hearing of it, but true trust was unconditional. fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

“Thank you kindly, my son.” Father marked a short pause and considered his next words carefully. “Now that we no longer have to hide, I would like to talk with your sister. Would it be possible?”

“I…” The proposal took me by surprise. “I think so.”

Bringing the dead back to the land of the living should be impossible outside the Day of the Dead, but Father had become part of the Parliament of Skulls. His spirit had willingly bound himself to the threshold between life and death. If my predecessors could see and speak through their vessel upstairs, then Father should be able to do the same.

I could craft him a body of bones to animate and inhabit. It would be a pale parody of the Ride spell—let alone true life—but I knew Father wouldn’t agree to use the former under these circumstances.

“That should do it then,” Father decided. “As for your mother’s request… I suppose you could cast a Veil over me? Yours are far more real and lifelike than any spell we experimented with in Xibalba.”

“That…” Mother bit her tongue, her disappointment clear. “That is not enough for me. I want it to be real, Itzili.”

“As would I, my love,” Father replied with a heavy, ghostly sigh. “But I do not think we could even cast the Ride spell on our son, even if I wished for it. Not with the hungry shadow gnawing at his soul.”

I tensed up and looked upon my flaming heart. The purple glow of my Teyolia, once kept alight only on a steady of hatred and sorrow, seemed brighter and warmer than before; a calmer, yet just as vibrant glow now burned bright among the bonfire of wrath. The flame of hope, I assumed.

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But the shadow my fire cast wasn’t my own.

I’d once heard a teacher argue that shadows were the children of the sun, because they could not exist without light; yet the impenetrable darkness stalking my steps was far deeper and ominous. Such a blackness had never known the warmth of a flame casting it on a wall, nor the gentle glow of the stars. It had wings that didn’t fit mine, and horns sharper than swords. I could see the outline of its fangs hungering for more than blood.

This darkness dimmed even my flame’s glow with bitter cold.

How could I keep it at bay?

“It should not…” Mother’s voice trembled with fear. “It should not pursue you so far down…”

“The bat can fly between worlds, Mother,” I reminded her. Which, now that I thought about it, explained why the Nightlords never learned about the Underworld’s many secrets. They were Mometzcopinques, witches who had never wielded a totem of their own and only borrowed power from another. “Let us do the same.”

I needed a stronger light to put the shadow back in its place.

We flew all night long.

My fight with Sugey had left me so exhausted that not even my own unnatural vitality would wake me up early. Mother and I spent hours flying across the Third Layer under the vibrant glow of Quetzalcoatl’s star. I couldn’t tell how much terrain we covered, or how close we were to my undead child… but by the time I felt the call of wakefulness, I knew that meeting was a long time away.

Perhaps that was for the best. Lord Quetzalcoatl asked us to ‘purify’ the demon my unborn child had become, but we had little idea how to do such a feat. Would it involve sending its soul to Tlalocan to find eternal rest among Tlaloc’s blessed? Or letting its spirit join the city of the dead in eternal slumber?

I knew so little about what the child had become. I couldn’t even tell whether it was a son or daughter, or if it had inherited my totem or a fraction of my powers. I was swimming in an unknown sea whose dark bottom I couldn’t see.

I woke up in a bed, warmer than when I had entered it. Resting had allowed my Teyolia to recover some of its luster and breathed new heat into my cold veins. My blood was more tepid than it should have been—the First Emperor’s grip being not so easily fended off—but I had regained most of my strength.

Nonetheless, the only glow that shone through my window was a pale red moonlight. Eztli looked at it through the window, standing still like a statue and eagerly awaiting the sunrise she craved so much; her mother sat at my bedside with a set of medicine and unguents lying on a table.

“Is… is it still night?” I blurted out upon emerging out of unconsciousness.

“It shouldn’t be,” Eztli replied, her voice quieter than the hushing wind. The air felt colder, chiller than usual. “The dawn is two hours late.”

“Lahun’s knowledge of the stars has proven invaluable in guiding our caravan through these cursed mountains,” Necahual said upon grabbing my wrist and taking my pulse. “How are you feeling, Iztac?”

“Rested, if cold.” I noticed Eztli wincing when I uttered that last word. “Not that way.”

It didn’t reassure Eztli. She studied my face for a moment, looking for a dark hunger she knew lurked beneath the surface. “Are you thirsty, Iztac?”

I could smell the sharp fear behind her question, and I dared not answer it. I was thirsty; my mouth craved blood, albeit not to an overpowering extent. I could control and suppress it for now.

However, mentioning it at all now would only cause Eztli further concern. She had only barely escaped the vampire curse herself, so seeing me struggle with it in turn would horrify her to her core. I would rather give her hope than worry.

“Only for you,” I replied. Eztli’s expression lightened, but only a little. “Why is the air so cold though?”

“The temperature is dropping to that of the autumn season according to Lahun, if not winter,” Necahual replied upon letting go of my wrist. I seemed to have passed her medical test. “The sun won’t bless us with a summer this year.”

Eztli scowled with concern. “Will it rise at all?”

“Yes,” I said with confidence. For now, at least. “The door to darkness is weakened, but the First Emperor has yet to cross it.”

Necahual squinted at me. “The First Emperor?”

It suddenly occurred to me that I never discussed the First Emperor at length with any of my consorts and allies; a thought that swiftly led me to a greater and far more important realization.

I didn’t have to keep secrets from them anymore.

We had successfully escaped the Nightlords’ grip and purged their spies from our ranks. There was no mole left alive to share its findings with our enemies, and there were no ears in the walls we had to work around.

The armor of lies I had woven around myself for the last several months had outlived its purpose; this changed everything.

I could teach Nenetl my hard-won spells without fear of a Nightlord overhearing us; I could help my Mometzcopinques sharpen their talons and abilities; I could have Ingrid research the First Emperor’s codex in the open and tell her exactly what I was searching for instead of hiding behind codes and double-meanings. I could cast the Augur spell and question the Yaotzin in the open, and invite my father to walk among the living.

For the first time since I began my rebellion, I could act without wasting half my energies on maintaining a veil of secrecy. I could fully leverage the strength and aptitudes of my allies.

That, I suspected, would make a critical difference in the fight to come.

“The dark god Yohuachanca,” I said, the name echoing in the room like a curse. “The Nightlords imprisoned him centuries ago to siphon off his power. So long as they survive, he will remain sealed underground.”

“So destroying the old bats risks freeing their sire,” Eztli guessed, her hands rubbing her arms. “I… I feared as much. I felt his presence on Smoke Mountain… sensed his hunger…”

“There is still time to prepare,” I reassured her. “We have options.”

Necahual gave me a leery look. “Will you find the answers in your sleep?”

“Hopefully.” My consort had long guessed that I’d earned my divine power in my sleep, though I preferred to keep those details to myself for now. The Underworld’s existence and my Tlacatecolotl secret had been my main weapon against the Nightlords, and I couldn’t risk that secret reaching them in any way. “However, there is information we can only obtain here in the waking world.”

“You speak of the First Emperor’s codex?” Necahual guessed. “Ingrid and her handmaiden have already begun browsing its contents in search of information that could give us an edge, though she has yet to find anything useful.”

I considered myself lucky to be surrounded by such smart and driven women. “Give it time,” I told Necahual before remembering a very important detail. “There’s something you ought to know too.”

Necahual raised an eyebrow. “Another secret?”

“My father…” I tried to find the right words to gently break the news, before realizing that there was no way I could inform her without embarrassment. “I intend to summon my father’s spirit to walk among us for advice.”

An awkward silence soon followed. Mother and daughter both stared at me as they processed my declaration. The fact that I boldly announced I could summon a ghost to the land of the living hardly surprised them—such a feat would seem trivial after they watched me cast down a Nightlord into the depths of a hell without comparison—but the implications went far deeper for Necahual. The man she had loved and lost to her rival, the kind soul who had mistakenly entrusted me to her for abuse, would return to judge her. I expected her to show unease.

Instead, she laughed.

“Do you wish to introduce him to his grandchild, Iztac?” Necahual asked with twisted bemusement, her hand moving to her belly. I thought the situation would bother her, but she only seemed to find it ironic. “I ought to tell him we shall call the child by his name if it’s born a boy. I am sure it would be quite amusing.”

I couldn’t quite explain why, but her reaction only fiercely strengthened my desire for her. There was something darkly alluring about a woman with such a disregard for the past and social norms.

Eztli’s reaction was far more subdued. “Can you summon Father’s spirit too?” she asked softly, though without much expectation. “I know his soul is trapped by the curse, but…”

“I can’t call him. Guatemoc’s soul is beyond my reach for now.” I cleared my throat. “When he is freed from the vampire curse, I will be able to summon him on the Day of the Dead. You can meet him then.”

“The Day of the Dead?” Eztli moved away from the window and sat on the bed. “How far away is that?”

“Many months away.” If the world survived that long. “We can discuss it in due time. For now, we should meet with the others and–”

Eztli’s hand pressed against my chest before I could rise. “No.”

I met her gaze and frowned. “No?”

Eztli didn’t answer me immediately. Her fingers instead caressed my chest and lingered over my heart as if to listen to its beats.

“You are warm indeed,” Eztli said with appreciation. “I can feel the heat through my skin.” She shook her head with longing. “I’d almost forgotten the sensation.”

She leaned forward and then kissed me with all of her strength.

I saw it coming, but her speed and hunger still took me by surprise. Eztli’s teeth briefly bit my lower lip to mark her territory, drawing blood that soon caught fire. My fluids had been poisonous to my former consort not too long ago, but she now licked them with hunger. It somehow brightened at her contact, with my passion and desire igniting the fire in my veins. Though I remained thirsty, my flesh soon started to warm up like magma.

“This is something I’ve been waiting months for,” Eztli said upon breaking the kiss. Her hands moved to her robes, and I lacked the will to stop her. “We shall not be denied.”

Necahual chuckled in amusement. “We, my daughter?”

Eztli smiled at her and said no more. Mother and daughter required no words to tell what the other was thinking. The ordeals we had all gone through only reinforced that complicity.

Yes, we had both been looking forward to this for a very long time; even before Yoloxochitl robbed Eztli of her humanity. We simply lacked the courage to act on our feelings back then.

Neither of us was afraid of seizing what we wanted anymore.

Eztli focused back on me, climbing on my stomach, grabbing my head, and then moving down to kiss me. My own arms coiled around her back to seize her in a tight embrace. I sensed no resistance, only eager willingness. What pleasure it was to feel her blood pulsing in her veins and her skin heating up my fingers.

Eztli was warm like fire. Her passion for me burned as bright as the fire in my veins. I kissed her on the neck, fighting against the urge to drink her blood and instead reveling in her life, her presence. I rediscovered every inch of her body, as she explored mine, basking in newfound sensations forbidden to vampires.

“I love you,” she whispered, lovingly, sincerely.

“I know,” I replied with the same tone her mother once used for me. “I love you too.”

And I’d killed for her.

— NSFW scene begins

“I want you,” she said in between kisses, her hands straddling my manhood. “I want life,” she said upon impaling herself on me, her voice full of hunger. “I want a family,” she finished, her wish an echo of my own.

The fact that she asked me this in front of her mother—herself pregnant from my loins—only heightened the forbidden allure of our union. I would plant my roots across the entire family’s genealogical tree. My manhood stiffened in anticipation, as was likely the goal.

Our Seidr connection formed in an instant, burning with the same strength and intensity I’d once shared with Nenetl. A Skinwalker’s essence was a mirror of the soul; it matched my totem like the moon with the sun. Eztli raised no barrier around her mind. She gave herself to me, wholly and without reservation; an utter surrender of the spirit.

I had, after all, saved it from a terrible fate.

Eztli’s love and gratitude burned brighter than a flame in the night. She knew I had sacrificed much for her sake, and she offered all that she had in return. She wanted me, all of me, and I gave it back. I came like thunder inside Eztli, grunting and pushing. Lightning coursed through my veins as I poured my seed into her.

Our Seidr union gave me no visions, because Eztli had no interest in knowledge, only in me. Instead, she flowed warmth into me. She poured her life into me, pushing back the vile cold that threatened to seize me and easing the burden on my heart.

My thirst for blood lessened with each burst of lifeforce she shared with me. Every grunt, every tiny celebration of life pushed the curse of undeath further back into the shadows where it belonged.

Eztli grew tired quicker than I did, however. For all of her passion and desire to make up for lost time, she remained a mere mortal Skinwalker. She lacked the endurance of a vampire, especially compared to a demigod like myself, and eventually had no other choice than to slide off me. She rested on the side of the bed, panting and sweating; yet I could tell from the smile on her face that she had enjoyed every second of it.

“Are you alright?” I asked her.

“You can’t fathom, Iztac…” Eztli exhaled a sigh of pleasure. “How good it feels to be exhausted.”

I could imagine. A vampire had no need to rest. Her inhuman vitality had constantly reminded Eztli that she was no longer mortal, the same way my own alienated me from humanity.

Thankfully, I had help with that one. No sooner had her daughter climbed off me than Necahual moved to take over. I barely heard the sound of her own robes hitting the floor and rose up just in time for her to sit on me without hesitation or permission; she knew I would not deny her anything.

Her actions briefly surprised me. Necahual used to show shame at coupling with me in front of her daughter, who used to be the one pushing for it; yet I sensed no hesitation in the way her arms coiled around my neck and her legs around my waist. My slippery manhood slipped into her like a glove without encountering resistance.

I smiled and leaned on to whisper in her ear. “Are you so eager to become a grandmother?”

Necahual scoffed and briefly glanced at Eztli, confirming my suspicions. My witch found a perverse pleasure in this twisted situation. Sharing the same man as her daughter, competing and cooperating with her blood, provided a certain forbidden thrill which she could no longer deny.

However, Necahual remained a practical woman first and foremost. “We need to see what awaits us,” she replied as I kissed my way down her neck. “Danger is afoot.”

She was right, of course. I had allowed myself to relax with Eztli, but now was time to return back to the fight.

— NSFW scene ends

Mine and Necahual’s flesh melded as harmoniously as our souls. My crafty witch had used her own daughter to prime me for the ritual the way a warrior sharpened his spear for their first kill. The vision came in a flash of insight the moment I gripped her hips with a strong sense of ownership.

I had hoped to catch a glimpse of the Nightlords’ plots, of the Jaguar Woman and the White Snake’s scheming, but a tenebrous wall of shadows shrouded our sight. No matter how much power I had accumulated or how much Sugey’s death had weakened them, the sisters’ sorcery remained too powerful for us to breach directly.

My vision wandered south, into the mountains and towards a fertile valley fed by three rivers. I flew above a quiet town, no larger than one of my capital’s districts, where columns of vapor rose towards the blackened heavens. I saw Sapa troops raising impromptu tents and ferrying the wounded into houses too small to host them all.

My ethereal gaze wandered to a small manor on the city’s edge, away from the pain and blood of the common people. I walked past small chambers and entered a tub of hewn stone at the back, hidden behind walls of dried mud and stone. Pipes ferried hot and cold waters into the bath.

Ayar Manco rested in its center, his body half buried in water under the watch of a golden condor. Though half a dozen Sapa women and concubines shared his bath and whispered kind words I could not hear, their emperor hardly seemed to pay them any mind. His eyes stared at the dark horizon with the same anxiety Eztli had shown earlier, grimly praying for a dawn he feared would never come.

Ayar Manco was right to hope for a new dawn.

My sun would shine upon his empire soon enough.