death is unkind

Broken;

“You called me a monster, you wanted a monster. And now… you’ve got one… aren’t I generous?”

As a young god, he was clumsy, messy, unorganized but - he did his best with the task he was given as his people’s god of death. He was lanky, awkward, ill-prepared for the large task of tending to the souls that he was graciously given the responsibility or ruling over. Others in his pantheon were by his side as he found his way, comforted him and helped him along so that he could be the great ruler of the underworld that he was born to be. However, nothing and no one could have taught him or told him how to juggle the struggle of his duties with falling in love. Nothing could have prepared him for the mess his own heart had gotten him into.

He was naïve, easily controlled by his emotions, and quick to fall in love. Another young goddess, also naïve and new to the world of feelings, relationships, and just anything outside of their duties as gods - caught the young god of death’s eye. Slowly the two came together, careful and unsure as they had never felt this way before, nor did they know they were even capable of feeling something so strongly for another. It was a crawling speed at which they finally collide but when they did… the feeling was as if two stars had just collided with one another. Sparks, flashing lights, racing hearts, love, and passion came in droves. Overwhelming the two young gods with things they had never experienced before, only seen others experience it or seen the mortals they watch over fall in love.

Perhaps the passion was too much, the love was too strong, the friendship not strong enough… because no matter what they felt in the beginning it all fell apart in an explosion in the end.

She made him love himself in a way he never had before because she loved every part of him. The clumsiness, the awkwardness, the lankiness, the unbearable smell he had no control over– and he loved all there was to love about her. From the love she had for her pantheon, the love she had for the mortals she was tasked with caring for, her graciousness, her smile, her eyes, her lips– he loved all of her just as she loved him. Yet, it wasn’t enough in the end. Although he chose her over his duties over, and over, and over again… she couldn’t do the same for him. He understood that the mortals in her care were important to her but, he wanted to be just as important to her… he just wanted to be equal to them in her eyes rather than less than.

Yet, she still chose them over him. To the point of leaving him forever… forever choosing her love for mortals over the love she shared with him.

He couldn’t understand it, was he too much? Was he not enough? Was he too much of the monster she used to say he was? In anger she had called him a disgusting monster… if she saw him as a disgusting monster then that is what he would become… just for her.

Nothing could have prepared him for falling love… but more than that, nothing could have prepared him for getting his heart broken into shards of broken glass. Shards he used to chisel out who he would become.

Ruler;

“When an owl screeches, someone nearby will die. If you hear a hoot, take a deep breath and count to ten.”

The soft jingle of bells follows Cizin as he walks the cold and quiet night streets of the Earth. The dark surrounding him as he lumbers along the cobblestone pathways. His wide owl eyes awaiting the one who shall join him in his trip back to Mitnal. His gaunt, decaying body dragging along the streets, the shuffle and jingle of the bells in his feather a haunting thing for anyone to witness. A literal manifestation of people’s worst nightmares. He was created from their worst fears. The fears of those terrified of death. His faithful and equally terrifying companion Muan flies overhead, helping the Lord of Death and Ruler of Mitnal decide who will be joining him tonight. His ominous size and daunting symbolism as his wings are spread in the air, terrifying anyone who hears his screeches.

With every daunting step of his boney feet along the pathways, he passes the doors of unsuspecting mortals. Each one doing all they can to keep the horrifying Cizin at bay. Some keep him placated without even realizing, the sounds of wailing women bringing him joy. As each impact of fist to cheek is felt as a vibration in his chest, her fear and torment feed every urge in his bones. Other doors hide crying children, being reprimanded by strict parents, their anguish and misery filling him with warmth as he passes by them. Nightmares wrack others, leaving them to roll around in restless sleep, the torment of their own minds wreaking havoc on their psyche was enough to make him sigh in contentment. He continues along the streets, bones and bells alerting anyone close enough to his presence.

It’s the quiet homes that pull at his ears, the silence leaving a hunger in the pit of his stomach. He isn’t happy knowing someone behind a quiet door isn’t experiencing some form of misery. This brings him into the homes of sleeping families, a wave of a hand and eyes glowing red bring nightmares and horrifying ideas into the minds of innocents.

Night after night, he would come to the surface to bring chaos to the minds of mortals. Collecting souls to follow him to Mitnal and accepting the offerings given to him by his loyal followers. There was something missing though, something he couldn’t quite place. He was bored. Bored of his work in Mitnal and on Earth. Mortals were becoming more and more comfortable with chaos and pain as they wrecked it on themselves and those around them just as much as he did. It wasn’t filling to hear a battered woman cry or children to weep in the night. The vibrations of their agony no longer fill him with happiness and placating his hunger. He needed something new.

This brought him to the home of a vile human being. His favorite kind. A vicious man as horrible as him. One who made it his purpose in life to steal from the poor, vulnerable, and innocent. A killer who paid no mind to the innocent men, women, and children who’s souls he sent The Lord every evening. Cizin did not fear him, nor was he happy to be taking over his life. This disgusting man made his job as a god so much easier, for this mortal was not restricted to the streets at night or to the confines of a decaying body. He’d seen other gods use mortals as their vessels, to blend in with the disgusting rats they so loved. He didn’t understand it at first but, he was bored and boredom brought experimentation. The Lord reached out to the mortal he respected as he slept and laid a skeletal hand on his slowly rising and falling chest.

A flash of light and Cizin had made his choice.

This should be fun…

Humanity;

“Between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.”

When Ah Puch imagined humanity, he imagined those he saw in the dead of night, the souls he would take from the earth and leave to be tormented forever in Mitnal. The mortals he saw were the ones who wailed and screamed to keep him away, those who rightfully feared him and hated him. Those who worshipped him with all of their being and were shunned by their peers. What he did not imagine were those he would see in the light of day. The kind that were soft and sweet, forgiving, smart, and patient. He hated them, perhaps he was even jealous of them. Jealous of the love they give and also receive in return. Ah Puch spent centuries believing that he was happiest when he was feared and hated but, being surrounded by the rats he grew to hate… he realized why the one he loved chose them over him… which only made him hate them even more.

However, the god could appreciate them at the same time, for this side of humanity was what made the demons he influenced all the more powerful. Evil and filthy mortals that feed off the innocent ones, taking their fear and naivety and using it to make themselves more powerful. To Ah Puch mortals are nothing more than disposable rats, rats he can influence to do his bidding with no care if they die for him or not. Wanting nothing more than to cause chaos and torment their kinder counterparts. These easily manipulated rats are what helped Ah Puch find power. As he played the wealthy businessman and con artist, they were slinking around the back alleys of the cities he called home, taking control over the communities around him with threats and fear tactics. His worker rats made him stronger as he found power among stupid mortals that fell for anything that came out of his mouth. While his rats did his dirty work, he was able to charm his way into the lives and minds of some of the most powerful groups in the world. Surrounding himself with other people’s greed, lust, and their desire for misery and chaos, their destructive natures and skewed morals only made his work as a god of death and chaos that much easier.

It was also quite fun for him to watch their souls slowly turn to ash in the pits of Mitnal for the crimes he convinced them to commit.

If he’d known mortals were this easily manipulated and molded to his will, he’d have taken a vessel much sooner than he had. He found the rats were so easily turned self destructive, this discovery would become the easiest way he would fill the hunger for misery in his stomach. The pit that constantly needs to be filled with anguish, pain, and chaos. Torture at his own hands was few and far between as he had to keep up the mask with the more elite mortals. However, the hands of his minions were free to be covered in blood in his name, yet murder and torture just wasn’t doing it for him anymore. He needed a new method. Instead of hunting for himself or having his minions find an innocent face for him to torment, he found that simply supplying weak-minded mortals with inhibitors was just the thing he needed to placate his hunger. It was so easy for them to fall under the control of the inhibitors he and his minions would supply him, too weak to fight their own weak, mortal ways of becoming addicted to what he gave them.

Ah Puch started with alcohol, cocaine, and tobacco. Some of the easiest addictions he found that mortals would cling to if offered at just the right moment in their pathetic lives. Sex and love were next, discovering that to the weak minded people on his streets were just as susceptible to who addictions as any hard physical drugs. The new era mortals gave him so many more things to use against them, things that would bring them to their knees and right into his pocket. The amount of drugs and inhibition reducing pass times just increased with the creation of technology and the snowball of toxic relationships, just fueled him in new ways he never thought possible. At this point he barely had to put any work in at all… the idiot mortals were practically giving their corrupted souls to him on a silver platter. Nothing quite beats having some poor, weak minded mortal in his bed - high as a kite and confessing their undying love to him as their god, only to have a complete mental breakdown days or even hours later… This new era took him to a new level of chaotic euphoria.

With his hunger so easily filled thanks to humanity’s own downfall, he needed something to take up his time. These ventures only helped him get richer and richer so, by the end of the 1970’s he took up collecting. Collecting all different things mortals found disgusting or “evil”. He admired them. Admired these objects and all the stories and history they carry. There was something about the energy in his collection that comforted him. Knowing that all these objects that were considered “junk” or terrified mortals were safe with him, and knowing that even objects could hold evil and chaos like him brought him a level of what he could only describe as feeling like he was truly home.

Business;

“Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts… perhaps the fear of a loss of power.”

When European historians discovered the original stories of him and his pantheon, well the stories of the original Cizin, the skeletal god who walked the earth only at night. They gave him a new name, “God A” among what they were classifying as the alphabetical Mayan deities. Out of spite, he gave himself a new name. Zane. The final letter of the English alphabet inspiring his new spiteful expression of self. It was around this time he learned of the creation of a new, enchanted island. An island made just for gods and their half-blooded children. A bizarre concept to him, to imagine gods and goddesses of all pantheons loving together with their half-mortal children. He thought about at least visiting to see what all the fanfare was about, but the thought of running into his own half-blooded children caused him to hesitate. He had a few that he could remember but, none of them were worth any of his time. He had better things to worry about than a few mistakes that happened to be his children. As if any of them would actually want anything to do with him anyways, no child wants a psychotic monster as a father. Zane couldn’t imagine even if he did care (which he doesn’t) that his children would care to meet or learn about the monster their god parent was. So, he ignored them and let them go about their lives, whatever that may be.

Finally, he decided to feed his curiosity of this island he kept hearing about among the gods in the early 1990s. He moved into a dusty apartment above a dirty, old store in an obscure alley of the Red Light district he decided to lovingly name - Sombra Muerte. That store would easily become one of his favorite accomplishments. He chose not to promote his shop, word of mouth was enough for him and the quieter his store was the better in his opinion. There is a reason he used to leave dealing with customers and clients in the hands of his assistants and minions, he could be charming when he needed to - schmoozing had become quite a talent of his - however he could only handle but so much before he was tired of it. Customers came and went of the years and he did his best to keep the regulars happy and new customers in the mood to return. The front of the back alley curiosities shop was dark, brooding, gothic, evil, and odd. A perfect home for his collection. The basement of said shop held an even darker secret that the Lord of Death kept well. His empire of schemes was still going strong, being run out of the same place that masqueraded as an oddities shop. It took him over three centuries to build up his empire to encompass almost the entire mortal world, he wasn’t going to leave it in the hands of anyone else just so he could prance around in a city full of other gods.

With drugs, schemes, sex, and oddities taking up his time and filling that pit in his stomach, he rarely visits Mitnal anymore. Finding it more fulfilling to wreak havoc and create chaos among gods and half-bloods and it was much more fun than dealing with ratty little mortals all the time.

Since learning of the power of torment and torture that humans are able to withstand and still live. He took on a new job, one catering to those only of a specific nature. Discovering there are times when he can torture and torment without having to kill and still feel fulfilled. Then, watching the poor humans - well half-humans - become addicted to this pain and pleasure slowly lose themselves was all the more enjoyable for him. With drugs, sex and oddities taking his time and fulfilling his nature, he rarely visits Mitnal anymore. Finding that wreaking havoc among gods and half-bloods to be much more fun than playing with ratty, little mortals.

Changing;

“Nothing is so painful to the mind as a great and sudden change.”

It’s been years now. He’s intertwined himself with the half-mortals for many years and he’s been dealing with mortals for even longer. As his time living on Mount Phoenix grows - Zane can feel a change in him being sparked. A change that he is not sure if he likes. Perhaps it’s the influence of the many different personalities that he comes into contact with now, maybe it’s the several children of his that have come into his life. Either way he is not happy about any of it. He’s started to go soft that last year or so and there is now and in his gut. A stinging behind his eyes and a spark in his stone cold heart that hasn’t been ignited since his heart was shattered a millennia ago. The old feeling of disgust he held around demigods was not as strong anymore and he hated himself for the slight cracks that were appearing in his obsidian encrusted heart. Zane hasn’t been anything but ruthless, controlling, deceptive, and hateful since he was broken as a young god. New emotions have begun to bubble up inside of him, he’s started to struggle with his identity. Nothing he does feels right anymore, yet, the pit of anguish and chaos in his stomach is numbing. The cravings for misery and pain are lesser now, rather than all he could think about.

After a long, much needed, trip to his home in Mitnal he has returned just as confused as he was when he left. He knew what these feelings were and deep down he was terrified of them. The last time he allowed his emotions to be as strong as mortals, he fell in love and his heart was shattered into a trillion tiny pieces. Zane was left a tattered and broken version of the god he once was and he built himself back up into the monster he became. Nothing ever the same for him after that, never having felt anything but pain since she chose the mortals he grew to hate over him. It was easier for him to allow himself to be feared rather than to allow himself to be loved and give love. He never wanted to feel that pain again… Perhaps, that is why he keeps no attachments. You can’t get hurt by love if you have none.