The red sun sank west, soaking the dark clouds at the zenith and descending upon the red kingdom. Warriors gathered, kneeling on the bloodstained earth, awaiting the final rite. The army priests blew their Clay Ocarinas, and the desolate, distant music echoed between heaven and earth. Xolotl solemnly changed into ceremonial robes, then chanted aloud in a clear voice, guiding his grandfather's soul toward the Divine Kingdom.
A moment later, a raging Sacred Fire was kindled atop the high pyramid. The flames gradually blazed hotter, licking at the High Priest's coffin, sending up faint blue smoke. Dozens of priests chanted in unison, praying for the Main God to receive him, and also placing within it the blessings of the living.
The Mexica Alliance preserved ancient tribal traditions and, like the tribes of the wasteland, revered sacred cremation. The smoke and ash from the burning body meant the soul was going to the Divine Kingdom. Of course, in this era, because the burning temperature was low, every cremation would leave bones behind, allowing loved ones to entrust their grief to them.
Xolotl finished his prayer and stood solemnly before the High Priest's coffin. He watched his beloved kin slowly vanish within the flames. The fierce fire swallowed his grandfather's silver hair, swallowed the High Priest's long robe, and then blurred everything. His grandfather's smile quietly departed, from then on living only in his memories.
On the king's calm face, deep reluctance and sorrow surfaced.
Partings in life and death, the helplessness of human existence, always tore the heart. His heart was suddenly clenched tight, feeling a palpitation and agony he had never known before. Two clear trails of tears slowly flowed from his eyes, wetting the clothes on his body. Powerful emotion surged and churned in his heart, yet it was