Rome.
The Olmec stood on the parapet of the long wall guarding the boundaries of the ancient city that sprawled across the seven hills, facing the darkness to the east. If his calculations were correct, and they had been correct for thousands of years, the Sun would rise within the next few minutes.
Rise. Please rise.
Woodsmoke and the smell of emptied chamber pots tickled his sensitive nose, and somewhere below a drunken fight broke out. Somewhere a whore hawked her wares. Somewhere shops were pushing their eaves open, preparing for the day to come. A city that never truly slept going through the motions of waking. It reminded him of the jungle metropolises of his home, the cathedrals dwarfed by the stepped temples and palaces where he had ruled as a king and god.
Of the countless hearts he had offered to the dawning sun so that it would rise. To save the Universe from being plunged into eternal night. Every. Single. Day.
Until today.
Dread clenched his gut. What was he doing?
The Olmec sensed a familiar scent behind him, succulent blood and wild places, and a cheek, fever hot as only a therian could be, pressed to his doublet-covered shoulder. His Obsidian. His Heart Eater. “My master.”
The Olmec reached up and stroked his cat’s velvet-soft hair, eyes never leaving the horizon. “Come to watch the dawn with me?”
Obsidian nodded against him. “You know you’re right. We’ve both done the calculations, and we’ve both observed the heavens with our own eyes and with Galileo’s telescope. We know he’s right. The sun will rise on its own.”
The Olmec made a soft sound of assent, and then hesitated. “What if I’m wrong?” He breathed the words as if afraid to hear them, his teeth chilling from fear. “What if I’ve just doomed the world?”
Obsidian’s calloused hand found his and gave a squeeze. “You aren’t wrong. The Earth revolves around the Sun. We’ve seen it. The calculations hold up. The stars themselves say so.”
“The stars once told me when to make special sacrifices. Did they change their minds, somehow?”
He felt Obsidian’s mouth twitch into a small smile. “I think this is a new age, with new philosophies. I think it’s time to change with it, and I know you agree with me.”
The Olmec looked up at the stars and sighed. “Then what about all the lives we took to make the Sun rise? To keep the Universe from being plunged into darkness? Was it all for nothing?”
Obsidian was quiet. The Olmec knew he was having the same thoughts. Finally, he whispered, “I don’t know. What I do know is that it gave us the courage to carry on, and when the Spanish came, we needed that desperately.”
“It didn’t stop them from destroying us.”
“I don’t think anything could have stopped it.”
The Olmec gave a single nod. This was a conversation they had had many times since the invasion. Since the plagues. Since fleeing from their home with little more than the clothes on their backs.
Obsidian gave a little start. “Look!” He kept his voice down, but there was no hiding the excitement and relief.
At the edge of the horizon, the first sliver of Sun peeked over, illuminating the world in growing light. The Olmec felt his knees quiver but stood fast. He hadn’t just plunged the Universe into eternal darkness.
He held Obsidian’s clean, blood-free hand as the sun rose.
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