DOOMSDAY REVELATION:
THE MAYAN PROPHECY
THE SHAMAN
10.1.1.1.7.2 Manik’ 5 Kumk’u G9 – Thursday, 22 December 850AD
I stood behind the altar, with remnants of dried blood at the edge. So be it, it will soon be bathed in blood, its crimson gleam in praise of our father, Ququlcan. Seated in his throne, Xu’mal, the new monarch of our land, awaits the final step in becoming the true ruler, Zuk’karh, the offering of a pure heart.
I caressed my blade as I hear the child’s cried from the edge of the steps as my servants carry him up the dark red steps. He was dressed in regal attire, painted with beautiful patterns taught by Ququlcan, fitting as a gift. By the time he reached my altar and tied to the stone tablet, he has stopped crying, but only staring at me.
I am A’Nacom! I speak the will of Ququlcan!
I lower my blade to the child’s chest and pierce the soft skin and bones. The last scream echoes throughout the silent citadel. I cut the heart, pure, innocent, devoid of stains of the land and thrust it into the sandalwood fire. I bear the heat and pain as the fire scorches my fist. I let go when the heart boil.
I scream chants and lost tongues taught and forgotten. I watch in horror as the smoke morphs and changes color, this does not happen. I feel a presence so strong overcome my consciousness. I pass into oblivion.
10.3.11.14.9.12 Muluk 17 Kumk’u G1
I awake shaking. Awaken not in body but in enlightenment. We are wayward.
We have strayed from what have been taught in the last age. We have killed in his name, against all he strived for.
Ququlcan is angry. He is very angry. He has given us one cycle, to redeem ourselves, or feel his wrath.
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