The God Who Watches Silence

Ren awoke not in darkness, but amid roaring flames devouring the traditional houses of the Aztec people. He was no longer in the throne hall of Mictlantecuhtli, but hovering above a city that stole his breath.

A whirlwind of screams, the grinding of steel, and the stamping boots of soldiers reverberated across nearly the entire city. Those men, pale-skinned with blonde hair, raised blades and ancient firearms proudly while crosses hung clearly around their necks.

He saw them as they slaughtered Aztec priests, as the Conquistadors tore down temples of the gods, as they destroyed the foundations of the city and burned everything until nothing remained.

He heard it all. The harrowing screams filled the air. The cries of children who had lost their parents. The cries of mothers who had lost their children. And the cries of those whose families were torn apart.

The smell of iron and gunpowder mixed with the stench of blood flooding the water canals of the city.

It was not a history book anymore. Not dramatized footage. This was the truth. This was conquest.

Tenochtitlan.

A thriving metropolis floating above a lake, once a paradise of Mesoamerica, now reduced to a man made hell born from greed.

Ren wanted to scream, to intervene, but he was only a ghost, a powerless witness inside a grand theater of cruelty.

Like a page of a novel turning, the narrative shifted before he could question what he had become.

He saw the same land, but now standing upon the ruins of Tenochtitlan were magnificent cathedrals. The anguished screams had been replaced with church hymns echoing beneath ringing bells.

The Spaniards had carved their sovereignty into the land, bringing suffering in a different form. The indigenous people were forced to abandon their gods, stripped of culture and language.

The wound carved was not only upon the soil, but deep within the soul of a civilization. Though this transition killed meaning, the conquerors also planted new meaning for those no longer bound by tradition.

Technology and science claimed their place in a world once locked away. And new faith slowly replaced the old.

In the shadow of this long transition, his gaze fell upon a girl.

She was beautiful. A modest dress draped her form, and her brown eyes resembled fallen autumn leaves. Her smile radiated like sunlight. Her warmth seemed to tear through the remnants of inherited sorrow.

As if caught inside a novel’s narrative, Ren followed wherever she went. He watched her live under her new identity after the conquerors took her original name and forced her to adopt one from their cathedrals.

He watched her begin to grow close with a handsome man. A kind Spanish gentleman with blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. Someone whose build and features resembled Ren himself.

They eventually married and her face glowed with new hope. But that light dimmed. The once affectionate husband grew cold. Ashamed of his “native” wife. She became an embarrassment. Locked away, ignored.

Her tears flowed through cold lonely nights.

Ren felt his chest tighten watching a once gentle lover turn distant because of selfish whispers from cruel mouths. Her lips never stopped whispering prayers to every god she knew, old and new.

No prayer was answered.

Her husband abandoned her for another European woman.

In the depth of despair, love turned into a wildfire of vengeance. At the edge of the same lake where vows were once spoken, blinded by agony, she drowned her own children.

Ren’s hands balled into fists. His teeth ground against each other hard enough to draw blood.

The woman then drowned herself in the same waters. Her broken wails echoed across the night. The voice was familiar to him. The same cry that haunted him in Mictlan’s forest, along Mexico’s shore, and in his recordings.

His heart seemed to halt as realization washed over him.

I understand now...

The beautiful face stained with sorrow twisted and shifted through centuries of torment, becoming the pale shattered visage he had seen in the river of blood.

The woman was Maria. La Llorona.

And in an instant, every fragment aligned. The ghost that pursued him had never been a mindless monster.

She was a victim of unanswered hope. A victim of love turned poison. A victim of colonial wounds so deep they shattered her soul. And she sought him for a reason.

The moment he accepted every fragment, a vortex of shadow swallowed him. And then... everything turned black.

******

Soft taps pressed against his cheek. His heavy eyelids slowly lifted. The first thing he saw was his sister’s face gazing down at him with trembling eyes.

“What...”

“Brother Ren...”

Without a word, Lia pressed her forehead to his.

Ren felt her tears slide down his skin. He smiled softly and rested his hand on her head.

“I am home, Lia.”

“I... I worried so much.”

After her tears eased, Lia helped him sit upright. His muscles ached as if needles pierced them. Still grasping his throbbing head, he looked around and saw Mictlantecuhtli seated with arms crossed, a satisfied smile blooming on his lips.

Ren narrowed his eyes at the god’s relaxed posture. “Why?” It was all he managed to whisper.

“Brother, Mic is actually a kind god.”

“Mic? You mean Lord Mictlantecuhtli.”

“Yes.” Lia answered with a cheerful tone, as if she had known him for years. “At first I thought he was cruel, but he is just a fierce man with a hello kitty heart.”

Instead of comfort, the comparison made Ren’s back stiffen. Not from fear, but confusion. What on earth had happened while he was dead for her to say that. How close had they become.

What happened while I was ‘death’?

Lia covered her mouth, holding back laughter at her brother’s bewildered expression. “At first I thought Mic was evil because he killed me, then made you take my place, then forced me to exchange my life again. But it turns out he just wanted to test me.”

Ren’s mouth remained open. No sound came out.

Lia giggled. Mictlantecuhtli’s smile deepened as she excitedly recounted everything.

After stabbing her own chest, she had been revived by Mictlantecuhtli. Then he placed Ren’s head back on his body. A small circle appeared and in a miracle, the head reattached seamlessly.

While waiting for Ren to awaken, Mictlantecuhtli shared many stories with Lia. He even offered fresh fruits as snacks. Lia spoke fondly of them, describing the taste as heavenly and impossible to find in the mortal world.

“I... see.”

Once he was able to speak clearly, Mictlantecuhtli rose from his throne and walked toward him with dignified grace.

“Little girl, give me a moment to speak with your brother.”

Lia nodded and stepped aside, giving them space. Ren stood respectfully.

“So... what is it you wish to say, my lord?”

“First, I wish to apologize for making you experience the fear of death. And I also apologize for casting you into the forest of vengeful spirits. I had a reason.”

Ren replied with a sincere smile. “I understand. Everything was to test us, correct. Even sending us into the forest of spirits. I understand.”

Mictlantecuhtli’s expression softened. His smile appeared as if relieved to be understood by a mortal of lower standing.

“It was not only a test. As a shadow of a fallen past, I hope that those who walk the earth still remember us. Even if our culture fades from memory, I wish for its stories to be hummed on the lips of every soul, across all generations.”

The god paced around him, hand raised with the posture of someone reciting poetry. Ren noticed this was his pattern when speaking passionately. Much like the kings of forgotten ages.

“Not as pride. Not as foolishness. But as a reminder of ancestors who bled to preserve their world. I do not want anyone to trample upon them. And I hope the future will not repeat the foolish slaughter committed by those before.”

Mictlantecuhtli continued speaking. Ren did not dare interrupt. There was grief woven within the words. Even his calm expression flickered when speaking about humanity.

“Yet I know human greed never ends. I cannot restrain it. But perhaps by remembering the stories and mistakes of my people, bloodshed may lessen.”

He looked toward the siblings.

“Do you understand, you two worthy souls.”

They nodded in solemn respect.

“Then there is nothing more to discuss.” He snapped his fingers. A gate of warm light opened behind them. The radiance was overwhelming. “Through this, you may return home. Embrace your mother and thank her for raising you into souls worthy of honor.”

“Thank you, Mic.” Lia smiled warmly.

“It is fine, young one.”

Ren bowed his head. “Thank you for forgiving my sister’s ignorance, Lord Mictlantecuhtli.”

“It is nothing. She was worthy from the beginning. I merely tested her and taught her manners. She has a rare fire within her. If I had a son, I would have asked her to be his bride.”

Lia froze, scratched her cheek, and laughed awkwardly. “P-please do not joke like that, Mic. Ahahaha.”

Ren stayed silent, gaze steady.

“Is something troubling you, young man.”

Ren shook his head. “No. I simply did not expect you to speak so much.”

“Ah, perhaps because no one has spoken to me for a hundred years. My people are often too formal. Maybe I should visit them someday. But does it trouble you?”

Ren shook his head again. “Not at all. It was... comforting.”

They bowed and began walking toward the portal. Yet before they stepped through it, Mictlantecuhtli called Ren once more.

“Ah. I almost forgot. If one day you meet that woman again, do not run. Resolve her pain.”

Ren lowered his gaze, sadness in his eyes. He knew exactly who he meant. “I know. She has suffered too long.”

“Mic... will we ever meet again someday.” Lia asked in a soft sorrowful tone.

Mictlantecuhtli only smiled gently. “I do not know, little one. We are but shadows of civilizations long gone. You do not belong where the dead dwell. Our worlds cannot remain together.”

Her shoulders sank. “I see. Then...”

She removed her necklace and tossed it to him. Mictlantecuhtli caught it with confusion.

“What is this, little one.”

“A farewell gift.”

“I see. Then I shall return the gesture.” He touched an earring. In the next moment it lay in Lia’s palm. “You do not need to pierce your ear. Wear it as a necklace.”

Lia looked up and smiled brightly.

After waving goodbye one last time, they stepped into the portal. Their silhouettes faded as the light closed, leaving only silence atop the pyramid of the god of death.