Ichtaca watched the woman and man leave the cabin. The girl they’d left inside provided him the means to coerce the woman to do his bidding. Knocking the woman out of the sky had been a means to an end.

To force her into her human form. Alone.

Too bad he hadn’t been able to find the body. It would have been easier to wrest her help. But now, there would be a sacrifice to the gods when his wife, Tiegan, and King Tlalanec were returned to him.

He’d seen enough of the man to know he would be a marvelous pawn. To save his daughter, the man would achieve the impossible.

Steal from someone in Willow’s Haven.

The small town was protected by powerful magic. Strong enough to keep Ichtaca from retrieving the photograph himself. It was said the boundary kept out evil.

He wasn’t evil, but he was an instrument of the Aztec Gods. Everyday people had forgotten about magic, about the power of celestial beings, and the dominion that comes from service. The gods may have weakened but they never left this world. He would bring them back with blood freely given in this modern time.

He would reward a select few with the honor of being the living sacrifice. The ones whose beating hearts he ripped from their chests. Those who had dormant power within them. Only then could his soul rest.

Once his king had returned and a connection to the gods was complete, he would be with his wife and live the life long denied them. Full of ritual and servants. Devotion and worship.

It had been too long since a true sacrifice had been delivered and power returned to his kin. The girl in the cabin would be the first of many. But only after her father had done Ichtaca’s bidding and retrieved the photograph.

At the turn of the twentieth century, technology had seized the attention of the world. It had been a slow build, but those who embraced the enchantments provided by the natural world retreated. Metal and the insidious creations developed from it provided the masses with new concepts to worship.

One of those contraptions that was more insidious than it seemed was the camera. For some, it simply copied an image onto a plate or film. But those who believed in Transcendence—the belief of soul energy to travel beyond our plane of existence—found themselves trapped. Their bodies empty shells that disintegrated without the host’s spirit.

In 1906, the Goddess Tlaltecuhtli split the earth in California. A small contingent of his people traveled to San Francisco to take advantage of the death and despair. They could renew their bonds with the gods by providing release to the affected populous.

No one would know of his clan’s work except the gods.

Reveling in the chaos of the event, he hadn’t noticed the change in Tiegan or his king. Not until it was too late. They’d returned home. The journey drained their lives too soon. Their people strayed without a ruler. Too many lost hope, abandoned their refuge.

He was the last of his people. The last to know the true power of the gods and how to return them to this world. His first step was to retrieve the photograph imprisoning them.

He hadn’t been sure of their affliction at first. Not until an anniversary picture had been printed in the newssheets. Newsmen had scurried across the city recording the disaster. His people had been warned to be careful. To blend into the populace.

They hadn’t been concerned with the average person. Hadn’t considered the camera had become available to everyone. It had taken years to track his prey. To learn who had taken the picture and where it was located.

The photograph had been given to the family who’d been the focus of the image. They’d taken it to the sanctuary on the East Coast by the time he’d found them. Protected in the small town of Willow’s Haven.

But the photographer had been within his reach. She hadn’t even tried to hide. Posted her name every time she sold another image. Constantly taking photographs, threatening people with soullessness.

He watched her. Tracked her. Bided his time until she traveled close enough to the sanctuary to enact his plan. By the time he was finished, he would see to it that she lacked the heart to continue taking images of anything. Of anyone.

The sun had climbed high in the sky, and the woods around him buzzed with the natural sounds of the outdoors. It was time for his plan to commence.

He crept to the front of the cabin and tried the door. Locked. Not unexpected, even for the middle of nowhere. He crept around the side of the cabin. A voice stopped him.

“Stay inside. Be safe.” The girl sneered. “As if I’m still a toddler. Besides I’m perfectly safe in the middle of a forest. Who would come here?”

He peered around the corner. A blonde-haired girl wearing earbuds bopped her head while seated in a lounge chair in clearing.

“I hate schoolwork.” She threw a large book at the foot of her chair.

She glanced around with a guilty expression, reached into her bag, and pulled out a hardcover book. He could only make out a boy with a sword and lightning across the front. The girl settled comfortably in the chair, her eyes focused on the story.

Then she sang. Or more accurately tortured him with mumbled words in an off-pitched voice.

The gods favored him with an easy target. Though he wished she could carry a tune. At one time, his people created art and poetry that made the gods weep. Until the cursed men from the far beyond brought illness to his people. Only a scattering of the Nahuatl remained, hiding from this corrupt and immoral society.

He crept around the corner and across the grass. The girl remained unaware of his presence. He shook his head at how oblivious, how sheltered she was. His plan for her would be a blessing. Freeing her from the bonds that kept her shackled to earth.

Reaching into his pocket, he grasped a handful of sleeping powder. He walked to her side until she looked up when his shadow blocked the sun.

“Who are you?” She raised the book as if to throw it.

He didn’t have time to fight. He blew the sleeping powder into her face. She doubled over with a coughing fit. Moments later her body slumped, and her features slackened. So innocent. And entirely at his mercy.

Slight of build, the child in his arms would only whet his goddess’s appetite. Tlaltecuhtli would require many more sacrifices to appease her hungers. This world was filled with the unwanted, the unworthy, and the unbelievers. Perfect fodder for bringing the gods back.

Nothing would stop his plan to reclaim the past.