The sun rose over the horizon. Thanks to Huitzilopochtli's win, it could leave Mictlan and begin a new journey across the sky under Tonatiuh's guidance. That way, the sun provided the mortal realm with sunlight and warmth. Thanks to the sun, crops grew and mortals had food. However, the gods needed sacrifices to bring life to the mortal realm.
***
When the sun shone upon the city, and its rays touched the stones of a sacred temple, a group of five moved towards the monumental structure.
An older man was in the lead. He wore a maxtlatl covered in embroidered flowers and butterflies. A similarly embroidered cloak draped over his back. His sandals were decorated with fresh-cut marigolds. His face was decorated with paintings - a bright-coloured flower on his forehead and green branches under his eyes. He wore a quetzal-feather headdress. A jade necklace and gold bracelets enhanced his majestic presence.
Four young maidens in simple white dresses followed him. They had flowers placed in their hair and wore plain sandals decorated with marigolds. Their temples and cheeks were covered in blue dots that created a simple pattern. All four carried a basket full of flowers.
They walked across a beautiful garden, full of all kinds of flowers. The endless diversity of colours and shapes was captivating, asking for admiration. A sweet aroma filled the air, delighting their sense of smell. When they got closer to the sacred structure, the world was waking up. Butterflies were flying. Beautiful and ethereal, just like human souls, they sat on flowers and fed on sweet nectar. Surrounded by this natural beauty, one could lose oneself for a moment and feel as if they were in the realm of the gods. Although this garden was not a part of it, it was still a place close to the gods. Especially one.
The temple and the garden that surrounded it were dedicated to Xochipilli. This god, known as the Flower Prince, was the patron of art, dance, love, poetry, beauty, joy, pleasure and ecstasy.
The man followed by the four girls was his high priest, and the maidens served as acolytes. Their goal was the top of the pyramid, where the mortal realm merged with the realm of the gods. They had a sacred duty to their patron. The time had come for Xochipilli to receive a sacrifice so he can continue to bring beauty and joy to the mortal realm.
They solemnly climbed the temple steps and stood on the platform. In front of them there was a techcatl, behind it was a censer, and even more in the back stood a building where a statue of their god was placed — a young man who wore a headdress; he smiled and held musical instruments. If one allowed oneself to be carried away by spiritual exaltation, one would think that the statue would come alive in a few moments and begin to play a truly beautiful, joyful and lively melody. Right now they were as close to the gods as mortals could ever be.
The high priest kindled a sacred flame in the censer, offering the rising smoke to their god. Next, he lit incense in smaller censers to ensure that the surrounding space was cleansed. The maidens placed baskets full of flowers behind the man. When they stepped back, they were ready to begin the ritual.
The high priest raised his hands towards the statue and began to pray.
"Xochipilli, the divine guardian of flowers, music and joy. You, who brings beauty to our world. We beg you to accept our humble sacrifices — flowers full of patterns and colours that we bring you."
Then the girls said their own prayers.
"Xochipilli, bless us with your gifts. May your music and joy enter our hearts and souls. Let the flowers bloom for your glory."
As the maidens recited their prayers, they began to dance. Their flowing dresses swayed, revealing glimpses of their legs. They resembled delicate white hibiscus flowers. The high priest bent down to the baskets they had left and gently grabbed a handful of flowers from one of them. With a graceful, dance-like motion, he turned toward the censer and placed his hands over the sacred fire. He spread out his fingers, allowing the flowers to fall into flames so that they, along with the smoke, could reach the realm of the gods.
"Xochipilli, prince of flowers, music and joy. Accept these flowers as a sign of our devotion. May your blessings be upon us."
The girls didn't stop dancing and said their own prayer:
"Xochipilli, you who brings love and beauty. Gift us with your care and blessings. May every flower we send to you be an expression of our love and devotion to you."
The high priest picked up more flowers. He looked at them; they were so beautiful. Soft, delicatt, yet firm. The sweet smell tickled his nostrils. He recalled how the acolytes spent time choosing the most beautiful flowers from the garden. Offerings to the gods should be the most exquisite and precious, and these flowers were truly beautiful. It was a sacrifice worthy of the Flower Prince. Finally, he picked up the last of the flowers and said:
"Xochipilli, accept our gifts and bless us. May your presence bring peace and joy to our community. May your glory be shown in every flower, and may your glory be praised for eternity."
When a beautiful golden marigold, the last of the flowers offered to Xochipilli, was burned, the high priest and the acolytes began to say a prayer that meant the end of the ritual.
"Xochipilli, prince of flowers, music and joy, accept our prayers and sacrifices. May your grace be with us forever. Let the music never stop and let the flowers bloom. For your glory and for the good of our community."
When the last word of the prayer was spoken, the ritual ended. All that remained was to clean the temple so that it would be clean both physically and spiritually, ready for a new ritual.
***
The sun was setting. It was ending its journey across the sky and preparing to enter Mictlan once again, to fight another battle to escape from the land of the dead and start a new dawn. Mortals were completing their daily labours and preparing for rest.
The high priest had also completed his today's duties and was preparing to sleep. Service to the gods never ends. New rituals, prayers and sacrifices will be done tomorrow. He put his headdress down on the shelf and sighed loudly.
"Is something wrong, high priest Cuathli?"
The man turned around. Behind him stood Izel, one of the acolytes. She was one of the girls who assisted him during the morning ritual.
"I'm thinking about the upcoming ceremony."
"You mean Xochi Huetzi?"
Xochi Huetzi. A grand festival of flowers and pulque. A period of celebration of fertility, joy and harvest and at the same time one of the largest festivals in the whole country. However, it was no ordinary ceremony. It was the most important celebration of the year, at least for the cult of Xochipilli. It was obvious that both the god and mortals expected the grandest celebration. The duty of the high priest and the other servants of Xochipilli was to please both the god and his followers.
"Yes, Izel. Xochipilli didn't send me any visions, and I don't see any omens pointing at a sacrifice."
Izel seemed concerned, but the high priest quickly calmed her down.
"Don't worry. There's nothing to worry about."
"But…"
"Looks like Xochipilli doesn't have any specific needs right now. Instead of forcing ourselves to look for something special, we should offer him what is the most connected with him in the most devoted and sincere way."
Izel bowed to him.
"You are very wise, high priest."
Cuathli smiled at the young girl. She was one of the most diligent students at calmecac. Just like a hummingbird drinks nectar from flowers, she absorbed the knowledge from codices and teachers' words. Seemingly cold and serious — that was Izel.
"You learnt a lot in the school, but that knowledge isn't absolute. Nature has its own rhythm, Izel, and many things affect it. What happened last year doesn't have to happen this year. You need to learn to observe these small changes and analyse them. Observe, learn and gain experience, and in time, you will acquire wisdom."
Izel smiled at him again and bowed.
He felt like a calmecac teacher.
"However, you cannot devote yourself to duties and self-improvement all the time. Even we, the gods' servants, need rest. You should rest, too. Take Xilonen as an example and relax."
Izel snorted.
"With all due respect, high priest, but all she thinks about is pulque and fun."
Now it was the high priest who smiled. Izel and Xilonen were part of a small group of friends. It somehow happened that they were performing rituals together, just like today. He decided to stop messing with the girl. The sun was setting, and it was time to rest. As for Xochi Huetzi, there was no need for concern. There was still a lot of time, and even if his patron didn't give him any hints, he would figure out how to please him for sure. Suddenly something crossed his mind. The ceremony of offering a variety of beautiful flowers, full of beautiful music, poetry and dance. Yes, that would be beautiful. If he didn't get any hints, he would prepare something like this. But maybe he'll receive some guidance. The will of the gods is unknown…
***
Cuathli was asleep. His body was enveloped in bliss, and he started to dream.
The first thing his senses registered was sound. Low and deep, like the beating of the heart of the Earth itself. It was a huehuetl drum. No, not one drum, but many. Then he saw the colours, an unusual mixture of warm and bright colours. HHe stood in the square before his residence, where the holy garden stretched ahead, from which rose the pyramid of Xochipilli.
Other sounds began to reach his ears. The dry but warm rhythms of the teponaztla drums joined to the deep sounds of the huehuetls, and the man felt like dancing. Through all these sounds penetrated one more, a softer, slightly cracking one. Music played on ayotl. However, drums were not the only instruments used. He also heard flutes. Delicate and light ocarina and high, piercing sound of tlapitzalli. They sounded like singing birds. Together they created a beautiful, harmonious melody full of life. This divine music made Cuathli want to dance. He felt as if he were a young acolyte again, living life to the fullest.
At that moment, from the stone floor around him emerged large jugs, decorated with painted flowers. From them began to pour out pulque in thick, flowing streams. The amount of white drink that poured out of them was so great that it soon formed a wide river, and the high priest walked in it. A distinct, slightly sweet but earthy smell tickled his nose. He wanted to bend down to the pulque river flowing beneath him and drink the bitter and sour but sweet liquid to feel the sensations it would make his body and mind experience. After all, doesn't this wonderful liquid allow mortals to get closer to the gods?
But before he gave in to the temptation, flowers had started to fly in the air and dance around him, looking like a cloud of butterflies. A breathtaking variety of shapes and colours. Marigolds, dahlias, hibiscuses and orchids.
At first, he thought it was just a dream, but now he knew. It wasn't a dream. He was surrounded by divine music, a river of pulque and beautiful flowers. He knew and felt it. This was no mere dream — it was a vision. Xochipilli was telling him how to celebrate Xochi Huetzi. Now, in his spiritual exaltation, he was sure that he could organise a wonderful ceremony. A magnificent ceremony during which they will celebrate beauty, music, art, dance and fertility.
As he began to plan the ritual, suddenly something happened. The pulque at his feet and the flowers swirling around him formed a path leading to the temple. He knew he had to follow it. There he will receive further instructions. He walked solemnly to the rhythm of the sound of the drums. As he approached the temple, he saw a great swirl of flowers forming on its steps. The flowers parted before him and showed him a tlapitzalli flute and a jug filled with pulque. In the next moment, the flowers carried the instrument and the drink to the top of the pyramid, where they shimmered with radiant golden light.