1000 CE. The seas that would one day come to be known as the Pacific Ocean.
For many days, the people aboard the boats floated towards the unknown, guided by the last few descendants of their ancient priests. The blind eyes of the priests, seeing and feeling what their fellow man could never hope to comprehend.
Not after they offended their god all those centuries ago.
No one spoke as the boats continued their journey, trailing behind the trail of energy that only the priests could see high in the sky, knowing that they did not have the right to question those who still tried to protect them after the injustice done to their bloodline.
The Mayan people still remembered it, the stories that they had always dismissed until recently, only to realize how wrong they had been.
The stories peak of the ancient past, when they communed with their god, the Kulkulkan. Of how he gave them knowledge and power that they could not fathom.
However, something changed a few centuries ago.
Perhaps it was the arrogance of a newly ascended king, or perhaps it was a deliberate corruption brought about by someone in power.
Nobody knows that truth.
What they do know are the consequences.
Their people, led by their new king, forgot the old traditions for a time, condemning their god as useless and that the king alone should be worshipped as the divine.
Those who opposed, such as the priests who were utterly devoted to their god, were killed. What remained of their unique bloodline retreated from prominence, becoming nothing more than the common folk.
The result of the heresy would become obvious soon enough.
The abundant rains that once made them the most prosperous people in the lands stopped. Because even their benevolent god, who still came down to check on them despite the king's heresy, could not produce rain on his own without the mechanism he had helped develop in place.
And so, with no way to help them, their god retreated back to his heaven.
The first year this happened, the king cursed their bad luck and even dared curse Kulkukan when he descended from heaven, calling him a false god.
The next year without rain, the king became even more unhinged. Kulkukan still came down, circling the sky and using his divine power to try and resolve the problem. Unfortunatley, even his unimaginable might was not enough, so he retreated again.
The next year, the King died with a blade in his heart. Nobody knows if he killed himself or if someone else did. What is known is that it was already too late.
The old traditions were gone by this point, because the King made it his mission to eradicate all knowledge of the worship and relationship between their people and Kulkulkan. What little did remain from the traditions held within the minds of the surviving priests, they refused to divulge, proclaiming that the people must pay for their arrogance.
And so, they depended on what little they did remember.
They remember the enchanting red liquid that made Kulkulkan so delighted to partake of. They remember the smoke. They remember the miraculous 'Living Water' at the bottom of the spire of Nahb.
And what liquid could be more red than blood itself?
The next year, as the Spring Equinox came about, the Kulkulkan came down once again.
Yet, this time, he did not coil around the spire.
Instead, his yellow orbs were filled with wrath and hits of disappointment at what he saw across the pyramids of the Maya.
Human Sacrifices.
People captured during battles or slaves made of their own kind. Their hearts carved out and their blood offered as a sacrifice to appease their god.
Instead of feeling delighted, their god felt disgusted.
The legends still speak of the rage that he displayed that day.
A beam of light so bright that it blinded the people fell upon the Temple of Kulkulkan, originating from the maw of their god.
The divine retribution reduced the Spire of Nahb into molten stone and damaged the acoustic properties of the pyramid.
The enraged god retreated into the heavens, never to be seen again for more than a decade as the Maya people continued their rituals, hoping to appease their god.
This, in hindsight, the people realized to be the beginning of their downfall.
Because a false god had caught scent of their despair and took advantage of them.
A feathered creature with colossal wings appeared at the Temple of Kulkulkan and partook in their sacrifices, 'blessing' them with rain.
Now, the people realized that this rain was not true rain like the one they were once blessed with by their real god.
No, this imposter, the one called Quetzalcoatl, was nothing more than water falling from its feathers as it bated in the rivers and flew over their lands.
And now, centuries later, the Maya people finally see the imposter for what it is. A false divinity that fled at the first sign of trouble as the very air heated up and the land no longer provided harvest.
Suddenly, the sea churned as the distant noise of roars reached their ears, forcing the fleeing people look into the distance, where they beheld the clash of gods.
A colossal being with crimson plates and flowing magma beneath the skin roared in defiance, as a whale-like entity screeched in response, firing a blast of pressurised water that carried enough power to shatter mountains.
This clash churned the oceans and tore apart the landmass newly created by the living mountain.
Suddenly, the descendants of the original priests looked up at the sky and started muttering out ancient prayers. Tears streamed down their faces as they finally beheld their real god that their ancestors once spoke of.
An enchantingly beautiful emerald serpent, with gold and emerald 'feathers' erupting from his body like living flames as he descended from the heavens with a roar.
As one, the two fighting gods turned to face Kukulkan (for he could be nobody else) and roared in defiance.
That day, the remnants of the Maya people, fleeing from the catastrophe that the later generations would call the 'Medieval Warm Period', the global droughts caused by abnormal solar flares in this time period, found their god once again, along with a land that would become their home from then on.
The rich volcanic soil, given fertility and life by the Moving Mountain.
The churning seas created a new current, rich with fish and aquatic life, thanks to the Healing Sea.
And of course, the abundant rains and protection from storms gained through the intervention of their Green Sun.
A land that the Maya would call Ho-Nan. The great motherland.
Then, as the years went by, more people would find this place as they, too, fled their homeland in search of a new life.
The people who would one day be known as the Polynesians would call this place Ho-Enu. The resting place of the bird, signifying their hope that it would be their eternal resting place.
The Han-Chinese would call it Hou-Yuan. The Protected Abyss. Named after the colossal crater in the middle of the land where the humans created their home. A crater created by the Green Sun in the aftermath of his fight with the other two gods of this land.
The people who would come to be the Japanese called it Ho-En. The Bountiful Bond. Signifying their emphasis on the bond that they believed they held with the gods of the land.
Over the years, these different, fleeing refugees would mingle and become one people. And so would their names for the region.
So was born the great Kingdom of Hoenn, which would become the Country of Hoenn in modern times.
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Quetzalcoatl the Imposter: (click here for image)
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Author Notes: Read 5 chapters ahead on Patreon
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