The vast Lake Texcoco shimmered with rippling waves, reflecting the blazing sun in the sky and the towering Great Temple as well. The white-stone, red-roofed Great Temple was mirrored in the level lake, already a wash of crimson. The temple steps, smeared red by thousands of sacrifices, were carved with the final traces of the god-descended. And the nearby waters of Lake Texcoco, too, had been infused with scarlet, turning into a faint lake of blood. A blood lake and a red temple—this was a crimson realm!
Upon the temple, the priests prayed and chanted, waving the stone blades of sacrifice. In the ball court, prisoners of war fought desperately to strike the ball, earning bursts of cheers. On the plaza, poets recited aloud, declaiming the verses they had composed. In the communities, musicians blew Bamboo Flutes and beat out lively drumbeats. Beside the roads, young girls danced and sang, drawing the eyes of admiring youths.
At this moment, human voices, music, song, roars, chanting, and prayers all echoed together through the magnificent Lake Capital, pleasing hundreds of thousands of subjects with a rite of life, playing a jubilant movement! This was the annual New Year's grand sacrifice, and also a rare victory grand sacrifice!
The people of the Lake Capital were enjoying rare delight in this unprecedented grand sacrifice, while also mourning the elder who had passed away. Such piety and sacrifice, blood and death, were the shared aesthetic of the Mexica People, and it had already continued for more than a hundred years. No one knew when it would change.
The victory festival had already lasted a full nine days! And today was the final day. Avet wore royal robes and still sat high upon the divine throne. His eyes shone brightly as they swept over the twelve