The remaining space of the allied Mayan and Aztec Pantheon was a landscape of terminal decay.
Their combined universe was collapsing inward, its very fabric unraveling into threads of light and dust, consumed by the relentless advance of Outer One fragments that clung like parasites to the edges of reality.
All that remained was a single, immense, stepped pyramid—the last bastion of their spiritual and physical existence.
Upon the desolate stone ground at the foot of the pyramid, two figures in their human guises stood amidst the debris.
Kukulkhan, the Mayan feathered serpent god, leaned against a shattered altar, his posture relaxed despite the crumbling cosmos.
Beside him, Quetzalcoatl, his Aztec counterpart, calmly shared a ceremonial gourd of pulque, watching the surrounding universe dissolve into the terrifying black dust of consumption.
