Ollin: The First BornMature

Tepin - little one.

This story probably won't make much sense until the story of the first child is told. The eldest of all six of Satan's children, the son burdened with the fiery deed of lust, a half-human half-demon soul that has been wondering the Earth for many lifetimes. I am him, bound by my father's duty to find my other siblings and to instigate the destruction of the world.

I was born six centuries ago in a place known today as central Mexico. My mother, Atl, died during child birth, leaving me in the care of her mate. However, Manauia was an Aztec warrior and had little time for me. Especially the rumours that began soon after my birth, that I was not even Manauia's child.

No one in or tribe or in neighbouring tribes had eyes like mine. A liquid silver iris with an amber ring circling the black pupil. "Like a demon's eyes," they had said. "May the G-ds save our souls!" As irony would have it they were right.

At the age of fifteen I began to train as a warrior, much to the encouragement of Manauia who's only wish was to bring honour to his bloodline, son or not. He hoped that I would be as talented with the spear as he.

As it turned out, I was a fine warrior, better than the other boys my age and equally successful with all Aztec weaponry. When Manauia realised this his neglect gave way to tutoring me long and hard until sunrise. If training had drained all of my energy he would beat more into me, ensuring that if I did not practise more I would end up being no more than a sacrifice.

Unfortunately all his efforts went to waste. Soon after my training had ended those that had trained with me could contain their jealousy no longer. If they were to share the battlefield with one such as I, I would have stolen all their glory. Not to mention the women who, despite my weird eyes, were drawn to my strength and charm. They sought our tribe's priest in the night and the next day I was deemed the sacrifice.

Fury shook through me as I lay there on the stone table, an anger so deep that the ropes around my hands and ankles tore into my skin as a struggled against them. People flocked nearby, watching the priest speak the ceremonial words and draw the knife that I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

With a crazed passion sparking in his eyes, the priest ended his gibbering and plunged the knife into my chest. I screamed out in agony as it's iron edge punctured my heart and the poison smeared on it began to sear through my veins. Surprising all who watched, my right arm split the rope and I grabbed to the dagger's hilt and hauled it out.

Kill, Satan's voice was whispering from a faraway place buried beneath the ground. Kill them all, my son. And that's exactly what I did.

The End

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