A long wind swept through, and fine rain pattered down. Blood spread through the sacred valley, and Mixtec corpses lay toppled everywhere. The flames of the temples burned faintly, then went out in the wind and rain, like the blessing of the Rain God, and like the tears of the gods, bearing witness to war and conquest.
Black Wolf walked through the blood-colored valley, trod across verdant farmland, passed charred villages, and climbed the gray-brown hillside. At last, the ancient Tehuacan pyramid appeared clearly before his eyes.
The Cloud Temple, the Tehuacan pyramid—or rather, the pyramid complex—was a sacred mountain sanctuary. It stood on the northern heights of the Tehuacan Valley, and in truth was much smaller in scale than the Alliance Holy City of Teotihuacan, or the Nahua Holy City of Cholula. Among the pyramids before him, even the most important Rain God temple was only thirty meters tall, while the temples of the surrounding gods were smaller still.
These pyramids had perhaps been built even earlier than the age of Teotihuacan. Dark-green stone bricks had endured two thousand years of wind and rain; the ancient temples had grown mottled and old in the storms, blazing with glory in the Classical Age before the Common Era, then sinking into ruin in the doomsday of the seventh century.
And now, they had once again been devoutly enshrined by the newly risen Mixtec tribes. The temple walls were covered with serpentine patterns, as well as sculptures of jaguars and skulls. The ancient Feathered Serpent, the Rain God's jaguars, and the souls of the dead from two thousand years watched silently together as the Mexica People's conquering army came once more.
Black Wolf's steps were steady as he crossed over the corpses of Temple Warriors and walked into the great hall adorned