The sky curtain hung low, monsoon clouds shrouding the heavens and blocking out the noonday sun. There was no glittering ripple on Lake Texcoco, only little boats hurrying away to avoid the downpour that might come. In the vast Lake Capital, there was not a breath of wind, nor a drop of rain, as if everything had congealed between deep earth and sky. And the magnificent Great Temple lay in the shadow of the Heavenly River, standing silent as a mountain, and drifting in stillness like a dark sea.
The towering Chief Minister's Palace stood right beside the magnificent Great Temple. The god's draperies hung low without wind, twisting the Main God's body as their shadows slanted down beside the wall. The god's murals were dim and lightless, blurring the Main God's face as it sank heavily into the corner. Everything today seemed to carry some ominous sign.
"Has it grown dark?"
No one knew how long had passed before The Elder, asleep in the dark sea, slowly opened his clouded eyes and looked toward the dim, stagnant sky. He lay on a soft, warm cotton bed, yet he felt not the slightest comfort, nor any warmth. This body was already far too old, almost ready to leave his soul behind, and only the last breath barely kept the two linked together.
The shadow Chevali held a clay jar and stood silently at The Elder's side, rare worry showing on his face. The great hall was lonely and soundless, with only the breathing of approaching death and the low murmurs of decline spreading through it. Only after a long while did a trace of clarity return to The Elder's eyes, and he noticed the shadow beside him.
"You're back?"
"Yes, The Elder."
The shadow lowered his head, saluted the master