Ehecatlina Tlāzohtecpa.
Daughter of one of the major gods and one of the chosen bearers of the wind, it had not even been a full day since she received her powers—an event so strange it perplexed even her father, the god of wind, breath, and life-giving air.
A patron of priests and sages, guardian of books, writing, calendars, and the intellectual arts, her father was furious, wondering what had happened during the ceremony.
Ehecatlina had been warned to remain within the inner sanctum of his temple, as he feared that another god had interfered with her power-bestowment ritual.
This rite was sacred—something her father took with the utmost seriousness. He would sire offspring only once every few centuries, ensuring they were mortal to preserve the balance between realms. This was a pact the gods themselves had imposed, a boundary between immortals and mortals. Too many of the divine among the living, and the world could fracture. Wars between deities had destroyed other realms—mirror worlds now lost to time.
Quetzalcoatl, a benevolent deity who sought to nurture spiritual growth, demanded that Ehecatlina study day and night, mastering her power on her own and rising to meet the expectations he had set. She was one of four children he had who still lived; the eldest, now 512 years old, was nearing half of his own lifespan.
Ehecatlina would only gain such longevity after receiving her father's full blessing and a shard of his divine essence. As his second daughter, she enjoyed a slight advantage—he showed her warmth, as any father might, but when it came to responsibility, he was as strict as any of the fourteen sages, lesser deities who served under him.
Today, she was indulging in a long bath. Her current chamber held twenty-eight rooms, each serving a different purpose—from a dining hall to a meditation chamber. Everything she needed was within the sealed space she had been ordered not to leave.
Her bathing area alone spanned one hundred windsteps—roughly 500 meters—and was spiritually bound to the moon, which hovered eternally above the tranquil lake her father had compressed into the space.
She used the large waterfall to wash her body, the stream of crystal-clear water cascading from stones that gushed an endless supply. Where the water came from or where it went remained a mystery to her.
The temperature was always just as she desired, and the flow struck her shoulders with a force that felt almost like an embrace—as if she had willed it herself. In truth, she used the wind to still and calm the liquid, guiding its movement with a gentle controlled breeze. It was one of the ways she trained her abilities: each droplet slowed just before touching her skin, suspended for the briefest moment by her will.
Ehecatlina closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the water stream down her long, dark green hair—a trait passed down through the bloodline of Quetzalcoatl. Her silk-like hair shimmered faintly in varying shades of green, clinging to her shoulders and back. The rhythmic tapping of each drop did little to ease the unrest stirring within her.
"Was I cursed? Why did it have to happen on this day of all days…" she muttered, slamming a hand against the carved stone before her.
In response, her wings erupted from her back, sensing her distress. The force of their sudden appearance split the water behind her, sending ripples through the lakes surface.
She turned to the side, her green feathers catching the moonlight that filtered through the chamber's ceiling. They glowed with a brilliance that reminded her of her father—and of what had happened that morning.
There had been a moment during the ceremony when she felt it: a pulse not born from her father's divine breath, but from something other—something that intruded upon the ritual at the very moment her power was meant to be bestowed. Her core had formed unexpectedly, as if awakened by a force beyond her father's touch. The wind hadn't just answered her call—it had recognized her.
She remembered the look on the sages' faces. But most of all, she remembered her father's gaze which pierced through her.
There, in his divine eyes, she had seen something she never imagined possible.
Fear.
He had dismissed the ritual, canceled the festivities, and commanded her to return to the sanctum—this sacred space she had known all her life and had longed to escape. Eighteen years she had lived here, shut away from the world, her every step guided and guarded. And just when she was finally allowed to be release, she was sealed away once more.
Like a caged bird who was given a glimpse of the outside world, the endless blue sky and the feral wind which whispered to her the many things she had yet to see.
But at least something had changed. Not in the sanctum—but inside her.
She could feel it now. The power that pulsed through her veins was unlike anything she had known. It was no longer the struggle to lift leaves or create weak gusts from still air. Now, if she wanted, she could likely make an entire tree dance midair and a hurricane that could engulf the palace.
She hadn't tried—not out of caution, but fear. She didn't know what this new power might do to her or to the place she called home.
It wasn't just her father's gift. She could feel it in her soul—this power belonged to something or someone else. Unknown, yet somehow… familiar. As if it had chosen her just as much as she was born to receive it.
She understood it somehow—this new power—and knew she would be able to control it far more quickly than the power her father had intended to bestow. It responded to her intuitively, as if it had always been part of her. That very familiarity, however, made it all the more frightening.
Who was behind it? And what did it want?
She had been warned about the other gods—their influence, their cunning. How a single glance could unravel a mortal's will. Her father had always shielded her, but she had not forgotten the tale of her eldest brother's fall.
He had been deceived.
Tricked by Tēzcatlipōca Tlīltik, the Night Wind.
The god of shadows, of mirrors, of hidden truths.
Could he be the one behind her awakening?
Ehecatlina's eyes darted across the chamber, the air around her suddenly heavier. As if the very act of thinking his name had summoned him. She saw nothing—but that meant little when it came to him.
Still, she remained alert, her body tense, her wings half-flared. She had recalled the signs of his approach and none were met at this moment.
When obsidian shadows grew long without light, when silence hummed just loud enough to be noticed.
She saw none of those now—but she was still wary.