Feathered Serpent, Dark Heart of Sky. David Bowles
holy sacrifice, the Lord of Time watched the wheels of the cosmos turn and turn and turn.
These labors complete, Feathered Serpent and Heart of Sky descended to the sea-ringed world, which sat at the heart of the vast cosmic sea, the canopy of heaven spreading above it. They divided the world into four parts—North, South, East, and West—with the World Tree at the intersection of a vast cross, an axis for the universe.
“Now,” said Heart of Sky, “life has a home, with caretakers to sustain it. Likewise, my brother, must we make a realm for death.” Just as the Lord of Time grows old, dies, and is renewed, so the earth must grow cold and fallow before rebirth. And humans must feel mortality’s sting. Their souls must be cycled through the cosmic wheels. Come, let us fashion an underworld, layered like the heavens, to purge their souls upon death and return them to their source.”
But Feathered Serpent objected. “Not all souls should face the same fate, my brother. What of those who willingly give their lives to keep the wheels turning? Or children dead before their lives have truly begun? Exceptions must be made.”
They argued for a time, and finally Heart of Sky strode away into the North, where he descended into Cipactli’s interior, split into enormous caverns by the roots of the World Trees. There he unfolded himself into two more beings: Newborn Lightning and Sudden Lightning, also called Blue and Red Tezcatlipoca.
“We three are as one,” he said to them. “Together we will delve deep into the bowels of this creature, heedless of its pain, and fashion a scourging path for the human soul. Nine levels will contain the Realm of the Dead. First, a roiling river, swift and deep and broad. Alone no man or woman will ford its rushing waters, a reminder of their inherent weakness. Instead, a companion will they need, an animal faithful and true. Yes, families will bury a dog with their dead, and upon its back will be the crossing.
“Below we will erect mighty mountains that move and clash, grinding stone to sand. Here the dead will learn they cannot dawdle: speed is of the essence in death as well as life. Next they descend into a level of razor-sharp obsidian that begins the work of shearing the flesh away. Another region of biting winds that flail with frigid cruelty continues the task, until they become so light that the swirling winds of the fifth level whip their forms about like ragged banners.
“Deeper still we will set a narrow path along which the dead must travel while pierced by thousands of arrows and darts till they emerge at the seventh level, where jaguars will at last eat their hearts, freeing the core of their soul. Beyond this we will carve a vast basin to fill with the blackest, coldest water in the cosmos. Traversing that lake, the human soul will have every memory, every shred of physical existence, stripped away.
“Finally, at the heart of the Realm of the Dead, we will raise a mighty palace, carved from the very bones of the earth. Here those souls will stand before a puissant king and queen, rulers of this black domain. If truly shorn of the flesh, they will be admitted into oblivion and, should such be the will of Ometeotl, possible rebirth.”
So Heart of Sky declared, and with his sons he went to work. When the Underworld had been wrought to suit his purposes, he set a dark lord over each layer to oversee its function. Then he brought down from the twelfth heaven Mictecacihuatl and Mictlantecuhtli, the goddess and god of death, and placed them on their thrones there at the very nadir of the universe.
“Behold your realm. Rule it wisely and well. Fill it with such terrors as you deem fit. Make of it a place of fear. Only when humans fear death will they value life. And fear will help strip away their flesh on their journey here, till naught but bones and soul remains. Let none but the dead enter. None. Not even my brother.”
Upon the sea-ringed world, Feathered Serpent busied himself with death as well. Seeing the entrance to the Underworld off in the North, he fashioned paradises in the other three directions. In the East he set Tonatiuhchan, the House of the Sun, misty land of flowers and birds of bright plumage. This would be the destination of men who gave their lives, whether in sacrifice or upon the battlefield, to keep the wheels of the cosmos in motion. Each morning, transformed into butterflies and hummingbirds and other precious winged things, these souls would accompany the sun as it ascended to its zenith, returning to enjoy the cool beauty of their eternal home. Every four years they would fly again to the sea-ringed world, to sip from its blooms and sing divine songs to gladden the hearts of the living.
In the West, Feathered Serpent established Cihuatlampa, the Realm of Noble Women, an eternal resting place for mothers who died during childbirth. Transformed into fearsome warriors for having lost their lives in the most important battle of human existence, these women would accompany the sun each afternoon as it slid down the western sky. Feathered Serpent wanted to allow the fierce mothers earthly visits like he would male warriors, but he understood that their longing for the children they lost would make them dangerous. Their trips to the sea-ringed world would only take place once every fifty-two years.
In the South, the creator god wrought a verdant Tlalocan, Kingdom of Water, a land replete with fountainheads and streams, lakes, and mountain springs. Every good and useful fruit grew with abundance, and every corner echoed with the croak of frogs and chirp of birds. To this paradise Feathered Serpent brought the young god Tlaloc.
“From this fount of fresh water you will provide the world with rain. But the precious liquid, so vital for life, does not spring eternal. Like all else, it must be renewed. Every death caused by water will channel divine energy to your realm. Those who drown, who are struck by lightning, who suffer from disease, or who struggle with deformities—they ensure the fall of life-giving rain. In times of great drought, humans may elect to give their lives to draw water down from the heavens. Their sacrifice will be yours as well.
“The souls of all these dead will populate your realm. Here they will suffer no more, but delight in the bounty I have prepared for them.”
Finally, Feathered Serpent thought upon the greatest tragedy he knew would face humanity: the death of infants, the foreshortening of their young lives. For an answer, he spread his shimmering green wings and ascended to Omeyocan itself. In the presence of our grandparents, looking with hope and love upon the human souls just beginning to blossom on the Mother Tree, the creator god made his case.
“The souls of children who have not yet begun to truly live,” he argued, “ought to return here, to their place of origin, to await another birth, another chance at joy.”
Ometeotl agreed.
Feathered Serpent’s heart rejoiced. Despite the angry will of Heart of Sky, death could now inspire hope as well as fear.
The First Three Ages of the World
The First Age
The moment had come. After caring lovingly for creation, the younger gods had departed for their celestial home. Feathered Serpent and Heart of Sky stood upon the sea-ringed world and readied themselves to create thinking, speaking beings much different from the mute creatures that the young gods had set roaming earth, water and sky. Taking the very bones of the world, the brothers fashioned a man and a woman—towering, imperious giants of rugged flesh and snow-white hair. Infusing the pair with teotl, the brothers named them Oxomoco and Cipactonal. Enlisting the help of the Lord of Time, the brothers also formed a ball of fire to hang in the third heaven. But this meager sun was weak. Life wilted in its half-light. The giant humans shivered with cold.
Feathered Serpent understood. “A god must sacrifice himself to bring light to this world, must meld with that flame and become a full sun, pouring tonalli, radiant teotl, down to sustain life.”
Seeing that his brother meant to offer himself and become the most revered of all the deities, Heart of Sky swirled up into the heavens and plunged himself into the conflagration, becoming the very first sun to spread its warmth over mountain, sea and field.
To Feathered Serpent fell the labor of teaching the primal couple. He gave them language, taught them the names of every beast and tree, showed them how to work stone and cultivate each useful plant.
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