It was a beautiful day to die.
Katxiel had ensured it would be. She could feel storms approaching in the distance, but she reached out to them and asked them to wait, just a little longer. She loved the rain, but she wanted to see one last sunset. It could rain all it wanted after that.
The weather was lovely and not too muggy, and she had gotten to enjoy all her favorites. She got to eat her favorite foods, as much as she wanted, until she could hardly move. She got to spend time with her friends, saying her goodbyes and trying not to cry even when they failed. She got to take the longest bath of her life using the most expensive soaps and oils, her handmaidens scrubbing her down until her skin was silky soft. They helped her dress in finery, replacing her jewellery made of semiprecious stones with jewellery shining with gold and gems, and brushed her hair until it shone.
And then it was time to go. Time for the final purification rituals at the temple. Copal was burned and prayers were recited, and the marks of the goddess were painted onto her bare arms and face with white clay. By the time she was properly prepared and all rites given, it was just shy of sundown.
Her friends and loved ones were there to see her off, but they could not go where she was going. She hugged them one last time, and felt her heart squeeze when she saw her best friend, Rana, was not there.
Rana couldn't bear it. She had avoided Katxiel more and more over the last week, so Katxiel couldn't say she was surprised...
But it still hurt.
She bit her lip, looking out at the familiar faces of all the people she had spent her full twenty-one years among--the priests and priestesses who were like her family, her friends who loved her even if they sometimes babied her, and the villagers who ranged from familiar to stranger. Here and there she studied a face that looked a little like her own, wondering if the one who birthed her was out there watching, too. But then the High Priestess laid a gentle hand on her arm and said, "It's time."
And so Katxiel took a deep breath and went with her the other temple-keepers, prepared to step from this world into the next.
"Is this really necessary?" Katxiel said as she took a seat on the altar.
They had walked a fair distance into the jungle, on a path she was very familiar with. Katxiel had walked it many times in the last week, preparing herself for her final journey so she could gaze upon her resting place. If she rehearsed it a few times, it would be easier when she had to do it for real, right? At least that had been the idea. Everything looked the same now as it did those last few trips: the stone altar was there, the clearing's centerpiece, as sturdy and imposing as it had ever been. But this time it looked different. This time chains were laced through slots in the stone, with a shackle at each corner. Huh...guess she should have been a little more curious about what those slots were for.
She hugged her knees to her chest, frowning at the chains, trying hard to keep her nerves at bay. "I've prepared for this all my life. I've dreamed of this day since my birth. Would you insult me so? You can't honestly believe I'd..."
And then she trailed off, because the unyielding expressions of her guides gave her all the answers she needed. Really. They really believed she would come this far only to fight it? Fight against her entire purpose?
"Human instincts are strong, Ixtacotl," the high priestess said gently, calling her by the goddess's name rather than the vessel's. She reached and tucked a strand of Katxiel's hair behind her ear with an affectionate smile, and Katxiel leaned into the caress, taking comfort from the gesture. "You are our goddess, but you are yet imprisoned by the flesh. No matter how strong the mind, the body often acts without thinking, just as you breathe without thinking. Even if the mind is unafraid, sometimes the body is still fearful. This is here for you, to give you strength even when your body fails you."
Oh...well. She supposed that made sense. "Okay," she said slowly. "I understand, I think." But she still didn't like it.
Seeming pleased with her acceptance, the priestess held a small waterskin out to her. "Drink. It's to help you through your transition."
Obediently, Katxiel took a sip--and nearly spit it back up in surprise. It was not water like she expected, but some pungent, earthy concoction that made her want to gag. But she refused to be so weak, refused to make such an unsightly scene, and swallowed down as much as she could tolerate as quickly as she could in one held breath. When she finally came up for air, she pushed the waterskin back toward the priestess. "Oof, that's strong."
"It's only tea. You remember the kind. It will help you not feel. Now just relax and breathe. That's all you have to do now. You remember your prayers, correct? Pray with me, now."
The priestess helped her lay back onto the stone, and Katxiel couldn't help the nervous flutter in her belly when the first manacle clasped around her wrist. Her heart skipped a beat, then beat faster still, and she swallowed and closed her eyes and focused on murmuring the prayers like she was taught. She wasn't afraid, not really; she just hated feeling trapped, and that claustrophobic chest-tightening only increased with each closed shackle until she could feel herself lightly trembling. Okay, maybe she was a little afraid. But to be fair, she didn't know what was on the other side. She had no map, no guide, no idea what to expect. And she was a little afraid of the blade the priestess held and how it would feel when it cut her skin, but it was freshly sharpened and she was told she would hardly feel a thing.
She was afraid of the beast, too, but had been told not to fear it. He would consume her, just as Ixtacotl had been slain and consumed, but she wouldn't feel that, either. She would be too silly from the blood-letting and the tea that it would be just like a dream at that point, and then she would wake up among the gods.
She had been waiting for this all her life. This was her purpose. Her duty. Everything she had ever done had built up to this one moment.
She was afraid, but she was ready. It was natural to be afraid, she had been told many times before.
"Are you ready?" the High Priestess asked as though hearing her thoughts, and Katxiel said a breathless, "Yes," before she could lose her nerve.
This was an honor, the greatest one that anyone could ever hope for.
But the knife did hurt as it sliced across both wrists, bright and stinging, and her chant wavered with a soft cry and a wince. She bit her lip to stifle it, hands curling into fists, then remembered her breathing and tried to stay calm, tried to keep up the mantra as the High Priestess caressed her hair and told her to be brave. Blood ran from the wounds into channels carved into the altar, dripping down the sides and into bowls set to collect it. Oh gods. It was almost time. It was happening, and the reality of it all left her dizzy and breathless with a mix of fear and euphoria.
Maybe that was the work of blood loss and drugged tea, too...
Once the act was done, and her chant began to fade as dizziness took over, her guides left her to her fate. The blood would attract predators soon, and the ritual would be complete. No one wanted to be there when the predators came to feed.
No one except Katxiel, who had begun to drift in and out of awareness.
