Judgement of Lord Mictlan

The pool of blood still lingered across the stone floor, soaking Ren’s trousers as he sat while clutching his sister’s headless body tightly.

“She... did not deserve to die like this,” Ren’s voice was hoarse, carved with raw grief. “Lia... she was only a teenager.”

Mictlantecuhtli remained seated on his throne, stroking Lia’s hair with a gentle motion as if handling an ancient relic. Yet not a single trace of a smile appeared on his lips.

“And?” The god’s voice was soft, yet echoed with heavy authority. “A child who casually mocked the belief of a people. One who laughed at sacrifice and called it foolishness.”

Ren lifted his head, eyes brimming. The accusation hit its mark. Lia had been wrong, and he knew it. His mouth trembled, searching for a logical argument to defend her, but... as her brother, he still wanted to stand by her.

“She... she did not understand. She never knew.”

“Ignorance is not justification for humiliation,” Mictlantecuhtli cut sharply. His voice rose and the entire pyramid trembled from the force of it. “You humans from the world above believe everything must bow to your shallow logic. Faith, sacrifice, the afterlife... to you they are nothing but fables. Yet this is the truth. This is the world.”

The god rose, his shadow swallowing the chamber whole. He approached Ren and for the first time Ren finally saw his expression clearly. It was not arrogance. It was disappointment.

“You seek justice for your sister, do you not? You wish to return home with her, do you not? But know this. In my eyes, she is not equal to you. The weight of disgrace is no different from the weight of murder.”

Ren clenched his jaw. His hands tightened against his chest as if he wished to tear his own heart out. Silence swallowed him once again. From the moment he arrived, everything he understood had already fallen apart.

Mictlantecuhtli bent down, his face now only inches from Ren’s.

“So this is your final trial, Ren. Man who once walked under the bright sun. If you want her life returned, you must offer something of equal worth. Not violence. Not deception. A true sacrifice.”

His cold fingers lifted Ren’s chin.

“As a man familiar with us and the gods of other pantheons, you should know well what pleases us.” His palm opened, revealing a sharp blade forged from obsidian.

Ren took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. After closing his eyes for a moment, he nodded quietly.

He accepted the blade. Simply looking at it was enough to know how sharp it truly was.

“Which part do you require, Lord Mictlantecuhtli? I am prepared to offer any you desire.”

The god straightened. “Hmm... you are siblings, are you not?”

“Yes. Only four years apart.”

“Oh, how poetic.” He circled Ren with elegant steps. His raised hand moved at the height of his eyes as if reciting a grand poem. “A brother sacrificing himself to save his sister. It reminds me of many tales of heroic siblings.”

“In mythology and history alike, their stories stir the lonely heart because of their bond and shared purpose.”

“Alexander and Philip, Huey and Bobby, Kublai and Hulagu Khan. Castor and Pollux. And of course Xibalanque and Hunahpuh of our neighboring kin, the Maya.”

Ren had heard each name before. Their meanings were hard to unravel, yet... the last two held the clearest answer.

Xibalanque and Hunahpuh. A tale woven with severed heads in the Popol Vuh. And in Mesoamerican myth, few offerings held greater significance than a head beside the heart.

“I understand.”

Without hesitation, Ren placed the blade against his neck. The obsidian edge began to slice skin. Warm blood seeped slowly. His breath shuddered, not only from the pain but from the terror gripping his soul.

Yet even within the anguish, his resolve did not waver. His trembling hands did not stop. No words. No complaints. With one decisive push, the blade glided smoothly and severed his own head.

Slash.

His head fell from his body, rolling until it stopped beside his sister’s form. His gaze remained fixed upon his own torso, still sitting upright though no longer bearing its head.

Ah... that is me, isn’t it?

His vision blurred. In that fading moment he caught a faint curve on Mictlantecuhtli’s lips. Not hunger. Not wrath. A calm and gentle smile.

That smile... what is he truly?

Moments later only darkness greeted him.

Lia’s eyes slowly opened. She rose, one hand gripping her head as if holding it together. The pounding ache felt like a blade stabbing deep.

“What... happened?”

She looked around. Her last memory was of a massive tentacle lunging toward her and then...

Her spine arched. Her skin prickled with cold dread and her hand leapt to her throat.

“I... died?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

A deep, commanding voice drew her attention. She turned and saw a towering figure pacing around her with slow, weighty steps full of ancient dignity.

Lia struggled to recall, and when clarity returned, her blood ran cold. She remembered who he was. Or rather... what he was.

“Wh... who are you?”

Mictlantecuhtli halted but did not answer immediately. “Who am I? Are you truly so foolish that you cannot recognize the one rightful ruler of the peak of Mictlan?”

“Yo... you are... Mictalencuti.”

A slight twitch appeared between his brows. Yet he said nothing. He continued pacing with the same measured cadence. His dark aura pressed down upon her until her stomach churned as if she were drowning in fear.

“Where... where is my brother?”

“Can you not see beside you?”

“Beside me?”

Lia turned. Then her eyes landed upon the body beside her. A headless form soaked in blood. The clothes were familiar. Even his posture was unmistakable.

“B... Brother... Ren?”

The sound barely left her lips. Her teeth trembled uncontrollably. The shaking traveled from her jaw to her throat and down through every limb. Her fists tightened.

She stared at the figure pacing around her. She did not know what had happened. But she knew one truth. She was furious.

Her gaze locked on him. Tears gathered, flames burning beneath.

“What... what did you do to my brother?”

“Me?” His voice hummed with authority. “I did not kill him. He chose it. He gave his life. He sacrificed himself for you, who showed no respect to the soil of another.”

“For... me? What are you talking about?” Lia’s voice trembled, her jaw tense, her hands balled tight.

“Yes.” Mictlantecuhtli stepped closer. His pale face came clearly into focus through her tear-blurred vision. “You think this is unfair? Then let us count your sins, little one.”

“You stepped upon Aztec sacred ground and instead of curiosity you presented mockery. You ridiculed our rituals and called our belief foolish and cruel. To me, that is a sin heavier than murder. Because you did not merely kill flesh. You killed meaning.”

Silence. The words struck deep. They were true. She remembered her irritation, her disbelief, her disgust toward the stories her brother shared. The weight of shame settled cold within her bones.

But even so, her fury refused to die. Suddenly Lia lunged forward, grabbing Mictlantecuhtli’s collar and gripping tight with her small trembling hands.

“Even so, why my brother? He was innocent. I... I was the one who deserved it. I should be the one paying the price. Not him.”

Mictlantecuhtli did not grow angry. Instead he seemed faintly amused by the outburst.

“Your brother’s soul is noble,” he murmured. “He honored us in his own way. He understood sacrifice and the life of my people. He approached with humility. He was worthy. But you...”

His faint smile held a quiet mockery as he effortlessly removed her grip.

“You must cleanse your own sin if you wish for him to return. The sacrifice must come from the sinner. That is the law.”

A blade of the same black obsidian materialized in his hand and he extended it toward her.

“Take it. And offer what is most precious. Only then will I return your brother’s noble soul.”

Lia accepted the blade with trembling fingers. Heavy. Sharp. Ink-black. Her tear-filled eyes shifted from the knife to her brother’s lifeless body.

What should she sacrifice? She was not wise like him. She knew no ritual.

Her mind spun in panic.

Then suddenly a memory drifted to her like a distant echo. An airport. A Tlaloc mask. And her brother’s calm voice back then.

“The Aztec rain god, Tlaloc... sacrifices... the human heart.”

The heart!

Without hesitation. Without doubt. A fierce resolve ignited in her chest.

If that was what these gods wanted, then that was what she would give.

She turned the blade, its point aligned with her left chest. Her breath caught. She closed her eyes and pictured Ren’s gentle smile.

“To be honest... he is kind of handsome. I only tease him for fun.”

And with all the courage she possessed, Lia plunged the obsidian blade into her chest. Blood burst forward like a crimson waterfall before her body collapsed and a ragged breath escaped her lips.

Mictlantecuhtli watched in silence. Then at last, for the first time, a true smile bloomed across his face. A wide expression of deep and sincere satisfaction.