Blood & Fur

Chapter Fifty-Six: The Demon Princes

Riding an animal was a strange experience.

Having spilled some of my blood in Tetzon’s food and having the docile beast, my spirit easily slipped inside his fur. His own soul was young, his Teyolia weak, so I felt no resistance and would have overcome any. That part had been easy.

The trouble began immediately afterwards, before I even opened my eyes.

The entire body felt wrong and mismatched. The legs were twisted in too many parts, the arms too long, the fingers so frighteningly short. I found the sensation of claws sticking out from inside my paws highly uncomfortable, and what should I say of the tail growing out of my backside? My own head—with its oversized eyes and ears—filled me with unease.

Unlike the owl-shape of my soul, a margay’s form did not suit me naturally.

Tetzon’s senses were unlike those of any man too. A light snore became louder than thunder. The slight vibration of a moving bed sheet seemed like a warning of a future landslide. Opening my margay eyes let me see my bedroom in the dark more accurately than my human ones, but a few colors became blurs.

It took me a few minutes to figure out how to stand on these four skinny legs, and even longer to figure out how I was supposed to use the tail to balance myself. Even the simple act of raising a paw became a chore. Every part of my immortal soul told me that I did not belong in this skin.

I persevered nonetheless for the sake of my mission. I looked around myself to conclude that I had awoken at the end of my imperial bed.

I was shocked by the immense size of everything. Tetzon was hardly the length of my arm, so my bedside table now looked taller than a tree and my bed became bigger than a house. My own human body had become a sleeping giant holding a taller red-headed colossus in his arms. Chikal’s snores rocked the bed like light tremors. As for Itzili the Younger, who rested at the bed’s feet, he looked every inch like the titanic feathered tyrant that he would eventually grow into. I suddenly found him far less cute now that he was big enough to swallow me in a single bite.

I peeked over the bed’s edge and at the distant ground, which now seemed like it was many floors below me. I was used to flying so I had no issues leaping off it. Tetzon’s strong legs propelled me forward farther than I expected and his paws soundlessly softened my landing on the carpet. Itzili the Younger opened a single eye to stare at me, then returned to his slumber.

This body’s agility would serve me well once I grew used to it.

With little time to waste, I scratched at the bedroom door. Staff members swiftly opened the door to let me wander out of the bedroom—a privilege that extended to Itzili, though he would rather rest. My servants had explicit orders not to bother my pets and wouldn’t interfere.

Wandering the palace’s halls at night in Tetzon’s shape was an interesting experience. Its dark corridors became as large and foreboding as Xibalba’s streets, and the ceiling turned into a sky of stone. I had to avoid my guards and suppress the faint, disgusting odor of rot and sick blood that emanated from them.

On the bright side, I was slowly getting used to Tetzon’s body. An animal’s memory was ingrained in its flesh rather than its mind like humans. The longer I spent time inside an animal’s skin, the more my soul grew used to its shape.

My whiskers trembled slightly as they detected movements near me. I froze in the shadow of an empty hallway and looked around. Though my eyes saw nothing, my fur bristled at once. My new body instinctively recognized the smell in the air.

Snakes.

I carefully searched for its source. I approached the nearby wall and studied it closely. My feline eyes soon noticed small holes in it, no thinner than a needle. I peeked into it and briefly caught a glimpse of white scales slithering on the other side.

Iztacoatl’s familiars.

I didn’t remember Eztli notifying me of a secret passage in this area and the hole was too small for a human to look through anyway. This suggested that Iztacoatl had small tunnels built into the walls to let her snakes spy on the palace’s occupants.

No wonder she knew so much. I looked back to those early times when I thought whispering alone would prevent outsiders from listening in on my conversations. Iztacoatl’s servants must have reported a few suspicious discussions to their mistress.

This made me wonder where these passages led. Did the snakes report back to their mistress in a central chamber? Finding it and wiping out these reptiles would cripple Iztacoatl’s spy network.

I ignored the discovery for now and raced to the gardens. The Ride spell wouldn't last forever, and neither would my human self’s sleep. I only had a few hours to recover the skulls and distribute them.

Reaching the gardens took surprisingly little time. Although small, Tetzon was incredibly agile and his flexible ankles could bend in ways a man could never dream of. His sharp claws and the unusual shape of his paws also let me quickly climb up walls. I took great care to memorize the shape of his bones so that I might copy it with Bonecraft later.

I ventured into the gardens under the pale glow of the half-moon and the shadows of trees taller than any tower. The palace now loomed over the gardens like a sinister mountain. Funny how its façade of splendor vanished to reveal its ominous true nature when shrouded in darkness.

Nonetheless, I was happy to find the tiny skulls where I’d left them. All those layers of security paid off.

How to transport them, though? The skulls were hardly bigger than a phalange bone, but Tetzon couldn’t exactly carry them in his paws. Not to mention that I couldn’t use any other spell when borrowing his skin. I tried to figure out a plan when I recalled how I’d seen the margay spit out a furball after too much grooming.

I stared at my own bones for a moment, then mustered my courage and added self-cannibalism to my list of crimes.

Swallowing the tiny skulls took longer than I expected. My bones tasted awful and keeping them cramped inside my mouth sickened me. I must have looked ridiculous with my stuffed cheeks.

The things I do to live. I pitied my predecessors too, whose first sight through these skulls would be a wonderful view of a margay’s gullet. At least I won’t have to expel them through the other hole...

My first stop was one of the palace’s walls overseeing the main gates. I quickly climbed as high as I could and then searched for a crack in the centuries-old stones. I found a tiny spot where I could safely hide one of the skulls and placed one there.

This strategic location should offer my predecessors a good view of the entrance gates. This would let us keep track of people who entered and who exited my palace this way.

I returned back inside afterward. My intention was to visit either the throne or council room, so the Parliament could help glean details that I might miss during official audiences. Unfortunately, I soon encountered the bane of all wandering pets.

Locked doors.

My frustration mounted as I tried to find alternative entrances, only to realize that all windows were closed shut. Worse, few staff wandered this wing of the palace so late at night. The masked, silent guards keeping watch over these rooms did not respond when I scratched at the doors or meowed at them. These soulless automatons must have received direct orders not to let anyone through, and that included Tetzon.

After half an hour of fruitless attempts to find a way in or a maid kind enough to open up the path, I abandoned the plan and moved on. Tetzon’s soul was already beginning to stir inside me by now, his weak spirit slowly regaining its strength.

Where else should I plant the skulls? Besides strategic locations like the palace’s entrance and throne room, I wanted to put one inside each of my consorts’ quarters. Other places such as Tayatzin’s bedroom or the secret passages would let me gather better intel on the Nightlords’ movements, though it carried greater risks.

I would have to be selective with only three skulls left.

After a short moment’s hesitation, I settled on a middle ground. Eztli was currently the consort most at risk and the Nightlords used Necahual as a hostage to ensure her daughter’s compliance, so I should take extra measures to ensure their safety. I would try to infiltrate the secret passages afterward.

I ran back to the consorts’ quarters. Tetzon’s keen sense of smell let me easily find my way to the door of Eztli’s quarters. I immediately began to scratch it. The guards ignored me for a while, but I soon heard faint, near-audible footsteps coming my way.

Eztli opened the door without a noise, and her glittering ruby eyes quickly settled on me.

“What have we here?” Eztli kneeled to take a better look at me. Her lips curved into a mischievous smile, revealing a small red stain at the edges. “You are Iztac’s new pet, aren’t you?”

A potent smell of fresh blood assaulted my keen nostrils and immediately startled my feline instincts. A stronger odor came directly from the room.

Eztli had just fed.

“Did you come for cuddles?” Eztli’s hand passed over my head like a cloud over the sun and lightly scratched me behind my ear. I meowed in surprise. Her skin was strangely warm, and she touched the sweetest spot. “I will gladly indulge you. A shame Atziri is exhausted, she would have loved to play with you.”

Her hands seized me before I knew what to do. Her grip on the back of my neck was gentle but firm, and she soon hugged me against her bosom. I felt like I’d been caught by a giant and let out a small screech of surprise.

“Please be quiet,” Eztli kindly whispered into my ear. “Mother sleeps soundly. I would loathe to wake her up.”

Her words rang true as she carried me into her quarters and closed the door behind her. I heard Necahual’s light snores in the distance, but it was my nose that bothered me the most. The stench of blood came straight from Eztli’s own room. I caught a glimpse of its current occupant.

A naked woman lay on Eztli’s bed with bloody bite marks on her neck.

Atziri.

She was barely breathing, her eyes were lost in a daze of pleasure. She reminded me of a drugged Nochtli the Fourteenth and his consorts when the priests dragged them all to the Blood Pyramid. From the smell of the cotton coverlets, Atziri’s nakedness, and the thin red marks on her pale skin, she and Eztli did more than share a drink too.

This was a side of my consort that I never wished to see.

Eztli chuckled at me. She must have taken the look I sent her bed to one of fear.

“She’s alive, kitten, worry not,” she said while caressing the back of my head. “I won’t eat you. My nights are long without Iztac to keep me warm, and my maid was kind enough to fill in.”

My heart sank with guilt. Eztli was under as much pressure as I was from the Nightlords, and though we loved one another my schemes and imperial duties demanded that I cavort with other women. I couldn’t exactly blame Eztli for finding comfort where she could.

Nonetheless, the situation made me uncomfortable. Atziri didn’t exactly have a choice in this… though she couldn’t exactly deny me either. I prayed in my heart that this encounter had been consensual; that Eztli at least retained enough humanity not to force herself on a servant.

I hoped.

Eztli carried me to her mother’s herbal laboratory and put me on a wooden desk covered in potions. A bowl on the desk was filled with a healing poultice which I recognized from my days in Acampa. Necahual used it to treat small wounds, like Atziri’s. Eztli grabbed another container from a shelf, and then searched among the reserves for more.

The sheer number of smells present in the area overwhelmed my margay nose. However, one cut through them all: a putrid stench of tar and miasma which I had grown to despise. My eyes searched the darkness for its source, until I noticed a hole in a stone wall.

A secret passage lay half-open.

Eztli mustn’t have bothered fully closing it when she returned from her reunion with the other Nightlords. What a perfect opportunity. If I could access their dark abode underground and place a skull there, then I would be able to spy on their meetings undetected.

I quickly feigned disinterest when Eztli returned to me. She settled on serving me a few unhatched eggs inside a bowl.

Obviously, I didn’t touch them. My mouth was already full.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Eztli asked me with a chuckle. “Unless you visited me for the mere pleasure of my company?”

I tried to wag my tail. Dogs did that when they were happy, so I assume the same was true for a margay.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

I wasn’t an animal person.

“Cute. Very cute.” Eztli smiled in genuine happiness and then lightly kissed my forehead. “You are welcome to stay as long as you want, so long as you don’t break anything.”

She feels alone, I realized. Eztli had always been a social girl back when we lived in Acampa, with plenty of friends to talk to besides me. The Nightlords robbed her of this pleasure. Her social circle didn’t extend beyond her fellow consorts, mother, and handmaiden. I should offer her a pet of her own when I wake up.

Eztli continued to pet me for a few minutes and then focused back on the laboratory’s herbs and potions. I used the opportunity to climb to the top of the shelves without knocking over any of the contents. I subtly spat out a skull while Eztli wasn’t watching and placed it at a good angle. No one would notice it there.

So far so good.

I sat atop the shelf and watched Eztli do her work. I would just have to wait until she left the room to treat Atziri’s wounds and then slip inside the secret passage to plant another miniature skull there. Five minutes in, five minutes out.

Eztli completed her poultice quickly enough. I expected her to leave the laboratory anytime now.

She didn’t.

Much to my confusion, Eztli quickly glanced in the direction of her mother’s room. She listened to Necahual’s snores for a while, then began to browse the shelves again until she found a closed pot.

What is she doing? I’d seen Necahual work on that healing remedy often enough to tell that she could apply it in its current state. I watched Eztli open the pot, which was filled with herbs I didn’t recognize. I briefly wondered if she intended to add them to the mixture.

Instead, Eztli grabbed another container, poured the first one’s content into it, and then put it back in its place. She replaced the first pot’s herbs with a pinch she grabbed elsewhere then put the cover back on.

Was she rearranging her mother’s potions?

It surprised me. Necahual was a talented healer. I’d never seen her misclassify the herbs that she collected. And why would she need to confirm that her mother slept soundly before proceeding? Something wasn’t right.

Eztli sensed my gaze on her back and put a finger on her lips. “Shush,” she said with that mischievous smile of hers. “This’ll remain our little secret.”

Was Eztli tampering with her mother’s potions? Why? Why would it take precedence over treating her own handmaiden?

Whatever her reason, I couldn’t exactly ask her in my current state. Eztli sent me a wink, grabbed the poultice, and then left the laboratory to treat Atziri’s wound. I waited for her to leave before stealthily inspecting the herbs and potions she switched around. I attempted to identify their purpose by smell and came up with nothing. All they did was to make my nostrils itchy.

What are you hiding from us, Eztli? I banished these thoughts from my mind. I will ask her myself tomorrow.

I soundlessly landed on the floor and approached the secret passage. Darkness so thick that my feline eyes couldn’t pierce them faced me. I took a step down the steps of a narrow staircase.

I immediately felt as if I had crossed an invisible veil between life and death. The sinister stench of tar grew overwhelming. A terrible chill seized my flesh and caused my claws to emerge from my frozen flesh. Every animal instinct in my body screamed at me to turn back, back to the safety of the world above ground which sunlight could still reach.

Only the shadow of death awaited below.

Do your worst. I forced myself to climb down the stairs and immediately encountered resistance. My legs grew wearier, heavier. An invisible pressure swelled inside my bones and tried to push me back. This flesh rejects me.

Tetzon’s suppressed soul was waking up inside me. His survival instincts took hold. He knew that the danger below threatened his short life.

I couldn’t let a tiny feline’s spirit beat mine.

Let me reach the bottom first. I used all of my willpower to keep Tetzon under my soul’s thumb. Each new step forward became more of a chore. I’ll spit the skull out and run back, I swear.

I pushed. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed, until I finally reached the bottom of the stars. A den of shadows sprawled out ahead of me, colder and darker than the blackest of nights. My whiskers strained as they detected tension in the air.

Two malicious red eyes snapped open.

A giant hand closed on me before I could even blink. Thick sharp claws gripped Tetzon’s body the way a man would squeeze a fine fruit. I was so startled by the sudden pressure that I swallowed the skulls I kept in my mouth. They got stuck in my throat and caused me to cough in pain.

Tetzon’s soul screeched in fear inside my skin as our shared flesh was lifted upward. To my horror, a second pair of crimson eyes opened in the shadows right next to the first. I barely distinguished the outline of vague shapes in the thick darkness: giant folded wings, sharp-clawed feet clinching to the stone ceiling, and inhuman faces with batlike snouts.

Nightkin. At least two of them.

Damn it. Had they always been there, observing me whenever I walked through those tunnels? Unseen assassins ready to fall on me if I showed the slightest hint of treachery whenever I visited their mistresses? If so, I’d never detected them.

“Is something wrong, Fjor?” one of the Nightkin asked.

Fjor?

The name sounded vaguely familiar, though I was too surprised to recall it.

“I’ve caught an intruder, Kame,” my captor said with a sweet male voice worthy of a trained singer. His ruby eye glowed like the Scarlet Moon before the yearly sacrifice, and Tetzon’s soul went silent with fear. “You’ve wandered farther than you should have, fur ball.”

“It came from the upstart’s quarters,” the other replied with heavy disdain. News of Yoloxochitl’s replacement had spread among the vampiric aristocracy. “Must be her pet.”

“Such a pity.” A flicker of venomous hatred glittered in my captor’s gaze. “We were ordered to slay anyone venturing down there without authorization, weren’t we?”

The other Nightkin let out a dark, gleeful giggle. “We were indeed.”

My body tensed up as my captor squeezed it. Although I knew my soul wouldn’t perish with this vessel, I prayed to the gods to show Tetzon mercy.

The heavens remained silent, as they always did.

“I smell your fear, furball,” my captor said, so sweetly, so softly. “Such a delightfully complex flavor of dread and terror.”

Sets of fangs sharper than swords flashed in the dark.

“I must deepen it.”

My last memory was the painful feeling of teeth closing on my neck.

I woke up alive in the house of the dead.

Tetzon’s murder jolted my soul back into my body with such strength that my head ended up hitting a wall. Pain surged in the back of my skull, and a scroll fell from its shelf and onto my lap.

“Is everything all right, my son?” Father called out to me on the other side of a door, his words heavy with concern. “I heard a noise.”

“I’m fine, Father,” I lied while massaging my throat. I still retained the phantom pain of Tetzon’s head being severed from his shoulders. His demise had been as swift as it was brutal. “My spell didn’t go as I’d hoped.”

Father and Mother had granted me a small room for my use inside their sanctuary: a tidy chamber that combined a basic living space with its own workshop, library, workbench, and fireplace. The phantom flames radiating from the latter hardly lit up my dark mood.

I glanced at my ribs and the names I’d marked on them. I could now add Tetzon’s to the list of souls sacrificed on my secret war’s altar. At least the Nightkin who slew him swallowed my skulls alongside his head.

I will never forget that sick gulping sound.

“I’m, uh, sorry to hear that,” Father replied. His lack of understanding when it came to spellcasting embarrassed him. “Is it fine if I come in?”

“Yes, yes.” I quickly put the scroll back on its shelf. “I’m done for now.”

Father entered my ‘bedroom’ with a thick scroll under his arm. “I think I’ve found what you were looking for, or close to it,” he said before reading the document’s title. “Forty ways to sorcery and sacred numbers, by Tlamatini Cuauhtli Aztin.”

I’d never heard of this scholar, but Mother wouldn’t keep this book in her library if it didn’t contain interesting information. I seized the scroll and quickly browsed its table of contents. It appeared to list different forms of witchcraft associated with different cultures, including Mometzcopinques and numerology. Reading it would improve my knowledge of the field and let me incorporate it into my spellcasting.

“Thank you, Father,” I thanked him with a smile. This gift helped soothe my wounded pride. “Is Mother out of her workshop yet?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Father scratched his skull. “She does that sometimes when she hits a breakthrough. I’ll try to drag her out of her den.”

“No need.” The night was well underway, so I doubted I would have time to train with her anyway before I woke up. “I need to consult the previous emperors on our next move.”

“Well, if I can do anything my son, I’ll be happy to assist.” Father crossed his arms. “Have you told Nenetl the truth?”

“Not yet.” Between my meeting with Lahun, my training, and the preparations for my imperial tour, I simply couldn’t spare the time. Not to mention that I still wondered how—and if—I should broach the subject with Nenetl at all. “I swear that I’ll try.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I just want the two of you to be happy.” Father quickly excused himself. “I’ll go check on your mother.”

I thanked Father with a small smile. These small exchanges meant little in the great scheme of things, but they helped clear my mind nonetheless. They let me experience the illusion of normalcy for a brief instant.

I set the scroll aside for a moment and reviewed the details of tonight’s excursion. I doubted that Tetzon’s death, while regrettable, would bring much attention; pets allowed to wander around unsupervised often put themselves in harm’s way. I’d also learned that Nightkin actively patrolled the secret passages and slew any intruder they found there, even animals. Their mistresses must have enforced that rule after the false Sapa debacle. The possibility of hiding a skull in the tunnels undetected seemed beyond my reach for now.

That Nightkin’s name bothered me too. I could swear I’d heard it somewhere…

Fjor, Fjor, Fjor… I searched my memory for its source, until the souvenir returned to me like a bolt of lightning. Ingrid’s brother.

The flame of my heart wavered inside my chest. A Nightkin bore the name of Lady Sigrun’s missing son. It could be a coincidence, but who was I kidding? Nothing was a coincidence with the Nightlords.

The story of Ingrid’s brother had remained a mystery for me, one intimately linked to whatever fate befell the emperors’ sons. Had he been transformed into a Nightkin instead of joining the army, as his mother pretended?

It was certainly a terrible fate that I didn’t wish on anyone else, but hardly one that warranted such secrecy.

Unless… unless Fjor was chosen because he was an emperor’s son. The thought gnawed at me the more I considered it. One of my predecessors likely fathered Eztli with Necahual by taking his first night too… and Yoloxochitl said she came from a purebred stock…

The other Nightlords were surprised that Eztli could become a Nightkin at all when their sister claimed her too. Could it mean that they couldn’t turn just anyone into a vampire? Did the sisters require a specific criteria to–

I felt as if I had been struck by lightning.

The pieces suddenly fell into place and the sinister truth dawned upon me. It took hold of my mind with its claws and refused to let go. My eyes widened in horror. My blood turned to ice as I struggled to process it all.

I tried to tell myself as I was imagining things, that there had to be a better explanation, but it made too much sense. The imperial breeding program, the secrecy, the Nightlords’ comments, their sick ritual...

“So that’s how it is…” A terrible headache seized me, my hands gripping my skull as sweat dripped off it. “They cannot choose…”

The Nightlords didn’t choose to transform the emperors’ children into Nightkin servants by happenstance or out of personal preferences.

They simply couldn’t transform anyone else.

The truth had been right in front of me from the very start. The Nightlords were the First Emperor’s children. The dark god spread the vampiric curse to them alone, consecrating their place as mistresses of the night. As far as I knew, he had blessed none other with his malevolent gift.

Only the emperor’s children could become vampires. That was their divine privilege; their birthright, which no mortal could usurp.

By embodying the First Emperor in the eyes of gods and men, my predecessors and I carried that duty on our shoulders. Our seed would bloom into poisonous flowers that the Nightlords could pluck and corrupt as they saw fit.

I recalled the sight of the hundreds of Nightkin that gathered to witness the Sulfur Sun’s aborted birth. They were Yohuachanca’s lost princes; the undying imperial aristocracy which had ruled the empire since its first nights, while their mortal sisters served the harem as breeding stock.

I was the latest link in a chain of harm; the victim meant to father his successors’ future tormentors.

And I likely had one or two on the way already.

My heart-fire shone bright with the flame of anger. A well of fury swelled from within me, its flames burning the horror and the disgust until only hatred and resentment remained; not only for the Nightlords who had created this hideous system, but the people who had kept this truth away from me.

My mind cleared of all fear, I raised a hand and manifested a skull in the palm of my hand. I called upon the Legion to summon my predecessors’ gestalt spirit and glared into their shining eyes.

“Why?” I rasped, both out of anger and disappointment. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The skull’s eyes glowed with ghostfire, and countless voices answered me in unified sorrow. “You weren’t ready.”

“Not ready?” My jaw clenched so hard that my teeth started to hurt. “I am meant to father vampires, and I promised Chikal that I would help her raise a future broodmother!”

“And had you known, that alliance would have never happened,” the skull replied calmly. How long had these old souls rehearsed this discussion? “You would have disdained your consorts and concubines, refused to play the Nightlords’ game, and in doing so, forfeited your chance to win it.”

Do not trust the skulls, the wind had warned me once. They keep secrets from you.

I knew deep within my heart that something like this would happen one day, but it still hurt with the sharp sting of betrayal. My grip on the skull grew so strong that it began to crack under the pressure.

“We apologize for keeping this secret from you, but we had no choice,” the Parliament said. Their excuses sounded halfway sincere, but they did little to quell my wrath. “You are the latest link in a twisted chain of incest, familicide, and murder that stretches on for over six centuries. Yohuachanca must be destroyed, whatever the cost. You needed to understand this first.”

“Is that all that I am to you?” I sneered in bitterness. “A tool to be deceived and shaped as you see fit?”

“Do you think you are the first to have learned the truth, Iztac Ce Ehecatl?” The light in the skull’s eyes flickered. “Some of us refused to participate too. The Nightlords beat us, drugged us, twisted us… Compliance is never an option without power.”

“On that, we agree, my predecessors,” I replied with cold determination. “And you only wield as much power as I allow you to.”

Part of me knew that they had a point. The old me wouldn’t have had the mental fortitude nor maturity to deal with this revelation, and I would have likely blown away useful resources and chances.

But I refused to be manipulated by anyone. Gods, Nightlords, ghosts, fate, I couldn’t care less. Their reasons, well-intentioned or not, did not matter to me in the slightest. I bowed to no one.

“Let me make myself clear.” I gathered my breath and regained my composure. “I am your first hope in over half a millennium to escape this prison of bone you’ve been trapped inside. I am not your puppet. I am the Tlacatecolotl, the owl-fiend, and sower of death. I will continue to collaborate with you because of the invaluable help you’ve provided me in the past and because our goals align, but you will not keep anything from me ever again.”

I brought the skull closer to my face and glared at the ancient emperors.

“Do you understand?” I asked them.

“We do.” The Parliament let out a small sigh. “We apologize, our successor. We truly do respect you, and we are grateful for all that you have done on our behalf.”

I scoffed. “If so, then you should have told me the truth.”

“Do you think it was easy for us to keep this secret?” The skull rattled in sorrow. “These are our children that we are asking you to kill. Our descendants, many of whom we have raised and loved until the Nightlords twisted them.”

A brief surge of compassion broke through the sea of my cold fury. I could see how it shamed them to tell me the truth. Yohuachanca’s history had been nothing more than a long battle between kinslayers since the Nightlords betrayed their own father. Sons and daughters murdering their parents again and again in an endless cycle of slaughter.

I couldn’t have been the only emperor to fear for his children’s safety. And unlike myself, many of my predecessors failed to protect their progeniture.

“You are right, our successor,” the Parliament admitted. “You have exceeded all of our expectations, and we treated you as a child in need of guidance rather than as an equal. We shall not hide anything again.”

That remained to be seen. “Then answer my questions, ghosts. Are all your male children Nightkin?”

“Only the lucky ones are embraced,” the skull whispered in response, confirming my hypothesis. “Or the unlucky ones, depending on your point of view. The Nightlords mostly select promising males and keep the females as imperial breeding stock.”

“How does this relate to the Blood Pyramid?” I inquired. “You said that I would learn the secrets of your sons’ fate there. What are the Nightlords doing there besides tending to their father’s corpse?”

For a brief moment, the skull remained silent as a tomb. I sensed that the emperors’ spirits pondered whether they should answer me or not, but to their credit they did stay true to their word.

“The failures.” I could taste the fear in the Parliament’s many voices. “That is where they keep the failures.”