Volume 1 - The Heir of Dorado
What Condition My Condition Was In
Necalli stormed through the palace like a bull, his frustration burning like a fire in his chest. He had heard enough to know that foreigners were closing in on Dorado's borders, and yet, the council and his own father were doing nothing. He couldn't just stand by while decisions were made behind closed doors. If he was to become king against his will he wouldn't drink from a poisoned chalice when he took the throne. He deserved to know everything, to have all his cards when it came time to play. His footsteps echoed as he pushed through the corridors, heading directly for the council room.
But the council chamber was empty when he arrived. The vast room, usually filled with advisors and strategy discussions, now sat silent. He moved around to his father's seat and began shuffling through the papers on his desk. Numerous reports and maps detailing the times they had come close to being discovered. This only confirmed what he had thought, there was no chance his father could lie to him now. Necalli clenched his fists, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. Where could his father be? He turned on his heel and headed toward his father's private chambers, the guards stationed outside immediately stepping aside as they saw him approach.
Necalli pushed the doors open and found Moquihuix sitting at his desk near the far wall, his back to him, deep in thought as he thumbed through the pages of a large book. The room was dimly lit, but the faint glow from the setting sun cast shadows across the stone floor.
"Father." Necalli called out, his voice sharp, cutting through the silence. "We need to talk."
Moquihuix didn’t turn around immediately. He stayed where he was, as if waiting for the weight of the moment to settle between them. "Talk about what exactly, my son?" he said.
Necalli stepped further into the room, biting his lip slightly as he mustered up the courage to speak. Confronting his father was no easy thing, but this was important. "I know about the invaders trying to get into Dorado. I thought it was nothing but rumours, but I saw your maps. You've kept me in the dark about these foreigners, about these threats to our city!"
His father sighed, closing his book and taking a moment to think before pressing his hands on the desk and rising to his full height. He turned slowly to face Necalli, his expression unreadable, though a hint of weariness flickered in his eyes. "I have kept you in the dark for a reason." he said, his voice calm but firm. "These matters are not as simple as you might think."
Necalli clenched his fists. "Not simple? Father, we're under threat! Foreigners are getting closer every day, and you, the council, everyone, you're just sitting by and doing nothing! How am I supposed to become king if I don’t even know what’s happening in my own city?"
Moquihuix's jaw tightened, and he stepped toward Necalli, his tone growing more serious. "You forget you are not king yet, Necalli
I am." He said "You think this is about doing nothing? Every decision I make is to protect Dorado, to protect you! There is far more at stake here than you realise."
Necalli didn’t back down, frustration boiling over. "I know enough to see that hiding won’t work forever! What happens when they find us? When they break through our shields? You always talk about protecting our people, but how can you do that if you refuse to face the problem head on?"
Moquihuix's eyes narrowed. "Do not think for a moment that I refuse to face the problem, Necalli. I know the dangers better than you do. But if we reveal ourselves too soon, the consequences will be catastrophic. You want to act without knowing the full picture. That is reckless."
Necalli's voice rose. "Reckless? What's reckless is ignoring the fact that the world is changing! We can't keep hiding forever. If we don't act now, we'll be backed into a corner. What then, Father? You've kept me from the council, kept me from learning what I need to know, and now you expect me to just stand aside and trust you?"
Moquihuix's expression softened, just for a moment. He looked at Necalli, seeing not just a rebellious son, but a young man weighed down by expectations he didn't ask for. His tone lowered, though the gravity remained. "I never wanted this burden for you, Necalli. I wanted you to have time to grow into the role, to learn without being thrown into the fire too soon. But it seems our hand is being forced."
Necalli crossed his arms, his frustration still simmering but his voice quieting. "But you can't protect me from this forever. If I'm going to be king one day, I need to be involved. I can't lead a city I don’t understand."
There was a pause. Finally, Moquihuix let out a long breath. "You're right." His voice softened as he turned away and walked toward the window, looking out over the city bathed in the fading light of dusk. "I have kept you out of matters that should concern you. Not because I don't trust you, but because I fear what this world will demand of you when the time comes. The world is so different now, even more different than when I was your age."
He turned back to Necalli, his gaze steady but filled with the weight of a father’s worry. "Dorado has been hidden for millennia. The outside world has changed more than you know. They seek what we have, our technology, our Vibranium and if they find us, we may not survive the storm that follows. But you are my son, and soon, you may have to carry this burden. So, if you wish to know what I know, I will tell you."
Necalli blinked, the anger in his chest cooling slightly as his father’s words sank in. "Then tell me, Father. Tell me what I need to know."
Moquihuix nodded, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His wife was right about Necalli. He might not have had the stoicism of his older brother, or the intelligence of his younger sister, but he had tenacity, and a will to do what's right even in trying circumstances. He turned and stepped towards a far wall in his chamber. "Come, there's something you must see." Necalli watched as his father pressed a hidden panel, revealing a secret doorway that Necalli had never seen before.
Curiosity battled with Necalli's frustration as he followed his father down the hidden passageway. He was still upset, but he could hear in his father's voice that this was something big. The air grew cooler as they descended deeper into the palace, the walls lined with carvings that told stories of Dorado’s ancient past, stories Necalli had heard growing up but had never fully understood.
When they finally emerged into a large, dimly lit chamber, Necalli's eyes widened. Suits of armor, each unique, stood on pedestals around the room. They gleamed in the soft light, adorned with jaguar motifs and intricate designs that only advanced in their design as they walked further through the room. The power emanating from the room was almost tangible.
Necalli caught eyes with the mask on one of the pedestals. The armour was old, much older than any of the others in the room. It had the face of a panther, with its eyes hollow but seeming to pierce straight through him. The teeth of the mask were bared in a snarl, as if ready to lunge at any moment. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each contour of the feline snout and sharp lines of the jawline imbued with an intensity that made Necalli feel as though he were standing before a living, breathing beast. This was no mere battle helmet, this was a predator's visage, designed to strike fear into the hearts of enemies long before any blade was raised. Gold accents shimmered around the eyes and snout, enhancing the already intimidating form, while the golden feathers of a radiant headdress crowned the panther, giving it the appearance of something both royal and divine.
Across the shoulders, a rich cape of red and gold was draped, its ends fastened with large golden brooches shaped like the sun. The cape hung loosely down passed the waist, but purposefully, making the figure look regal, even in its readiness for war. The lack of a traditional chestplate made the armor feel even more dangerous, as though the wearer relied not just on metal to protect them, but on their own strength, their agility, and their courage.
Necalli's gaze traced the lower half of the armor, taking in the segmented ceremonial wrap made from thick, darkened black leather, reinforced with vibranium but flexible, allowing for ease of movement. The leather was trimmed with jagged golden plates that mimicked the fur patterns of a panther, adding both protection and a predatory elegance. Hanging from one of the leather straps was a small skull, unmistakable as an Aztec death whistle, its hollow eyes and open mouth ready to release a chilling wail meant to terrify enemies. The skull, carved from bone, swayed slightly with the armor, and had been inlaid with very faintly pulsing vibranium.
Necalli's eyes moved to the weapons clutched in the figure's hands. The macuahuitl gleamed with lethal intent, its vibranium blades darker than night, contrasting sharply against the golden hilt that was detailed with the same panther imagery as the mask. Each blade seemed to vibrate if you stared at them long enough. In the other hand, the warrior held a tepoztopilli, a spear with a similar vibranium blade that seemed designed for precise, fatal strikes. The shaft was wrapped in dark leather for grip, and golden accents spiraled up toward the blade, which caught the light and glinted softly as the torches burned.
Moquihuix stopped, sensing Necalli wasn't following him. He joined him in front of the armour with a smile, clasping a hand around his son's shoulder. "This armor," Moquihuix began, his voice echoing softly in the vast chamber, "belonged to the very first warrior-king of Dorado. He defended our city from the outside world long before we had our shields or our technology."
Moquihuix led him further towards the center of the chamber, stopping in front of the third last suit in the row. It was still majestic, with dark armor and golden accents, but there was a worn quality to it, like it had seen battle.
"This," Moquihuix said quietly, "was your great-grandfather's suit. Each of these were the suits of the Yohualli Ocelotl that came before them."
Necalli's brow furrowed. He had heard tales of his ancestors, but nothing like this. "I thought the Yohualli Ocelotl was just a legend." he said, his voice uncertain.
Moquihuix shook his head. “The Yohualli Ocelotl is more than a legend. It is a mantle, passed down from king to king. Your great-grandfather wore this suit when he fought in the Second World War.”
Necalli’s eyes snapped to his father's. "What?"
Moquihuix's expression grew grave. "It was one of the only times Dorado interfered with the outside world. The Axis powers threatened the entire globe. Had they won, it would have changed everything. We could not ignore the threat."
"But we’ve always stayed hidden?" Necalli replied, his mind racing. "Why did he—?"
"We couldn't reveal ourselves." Moquihuix interrupted, "Not even then. But we couldn't stand by and do nothing. So, your great-grandfather took on the mantle of the Black Panther and fought on the side of the Allies, in secret. He fought alongside American soldiers, but they never knew who he truly was or where he came from." He continued, casting his mind back to the man he called 'Granddad'. "We came dangerously close to being discovered back then. Your great-grandfather wasn't one for keeping to the shadows, he was even friendly with a few of the soldiers he felt he could trust. Even the papers printed a story about him, calling him the 'Black Panther'. I can still remember him showing me that paper at any opportunity he got."
Necalli stared at the suit, the weight of history sinking in. His great-grandfather had risked everything to protect the world, but without ever revealing the truth about Dorado. The responsibility was overwhelming. He looked back at his father. He had always been the stoic, commanding figure that had guided and discplined him. It was hard for Necalli to picture him that young, being told stories by his grandfather.
Moquihuix continued, his voice steady. "He fought to keep the world from falling into darkness, but even then, he understood that Dorado must remain hidden. It is why we have always stayed apart from the outside world. The moment they know we exist, they will come for us, just as the Axis would have."
Necalli's anger began to simmer down, replaced by a growing sense of confusion. "Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? About him? About the Yohualli Ocelotl?"
Moquihuix turned and walked toward another suit, this one newer, sleeker, and more powerful. It was his own. "Because I wanted to protect you, Necalli. The mantle of the Yohualli Ocelotl is not something you can take on lightly. It is not just armor. It is a burden, a sacred duty. I had to make sure you were ready before I burdened you with this knowledge."
He turned to face his son, his eyes filled with both pride and sorrow. "I wear this suit to protect Dorado. Just as my father did. Just as his father did. But it's not just the suit that makes us who we are."
Necalli’s eyes flicked between the suits, the magnitude of what his father was saying beginning to sink in. "Then why tell me now?"
Moquihuix placed a hand on Necalli's shoulder. "Because soon, it may be your turn. The Yohualli Ocelotl is not just a warrior, it is a protector of our people. It is not just about striking down our enemies, but of protecting our people even if that means deciding when and when not to strike. And when the time comes, you will take on that mantle, just as I did."
Necalli took a step back, the weight of the revelation crashing over him. "But… my suit…?" He asked, glancing over at the empty armour stand next to his father's suit.
Moquihuix shook his head gently. "Your suit has not yet been made. But it will be, when you are ready."
Necalli looked at his father’s suit, then back to the one that belonged to his great-grandfather. "And what makes me ready? How do I…?"
Moquihuix's gaze softened. "It is not just about the suit. The Yohualli Ocelotl draws his strength from the gods—through the heart-shaped herb. It is a sacred plant, grown in the sacred gardens of Dorado, blessed by the divine."
Necalli frowned. "The heart-shaped herb?"
Moquihuix nodded. "When consumed, it grants the strength of our ancestors. Heightened senses, enhanced strength, and the wisdom of the spirits. You will journey to the Ancestral Plane and meet those who came before us. They will guide you."
Necalli felt his heart pound. "So…I'm supposed to go through this ritual? To consume this herb?"
Moquihuix met his gaze, his voice gentle but firm. "Yes. And soon. You are nearly of age, and when the time comes, you will be ready. This is your birthright, Necalli. But it is also a responsibility. One that you must carry."
Necalli stared at his father, the overwhelming truth settling in his chest. He had been angry moments ago, but now…now he wasn't sure what to feel. It wasn’t just the secrecy that stung, it was the weight of what was expected of him. The Yohualli Ocelotl. Protector of Dorado.
"How can I be ready for something like this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Moquihuix smiled faintly. "None of us are ever truly ready, Necalli. But when the time comes, you will rise to the challenge. You have the strength of our ancestors in you. And soon, you will walk in their footsteps."
Necalli stood there, staring at the suit, his heart pounding in his chest. Being king was bad enough, now this? He wished he had been given warning, training to prepare him for what was to come. "I'm scared, dad. This is all so much."
His father stood for a moment. Affection didn't come easy to Moquihuix, he preferred showing it in other, less direct ways. But even he understood what his son needed now. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I was scared too, terrified."
"Really?"
"Yes, more scared than I had ever been in my life. Your grandfather wasn't much help, he just told me to get on with it. I've only been that scared one more time since."
"When?"
His father let a smile grow on his face. "When you were born, Necalli." He said casting his mind back more than twenty years. "You were premature, none of us were sure you were going to make it. When you were born I could hold you in my palm. I remember those first weeks like they were yesterday, we were so scared something would happen to you, but no matter what life threw at you, you just kept on fighting, kept on struggling through no matter what obstacle was in your way." He looked his son directly in the eye. "And that's exactly why I know you'll pass this test. Because no matter what you don't give up, Necalli."
He pulled his son in for a hug.
(From here on The 'Yohualli Ocelotl' will be directly translated to 'Black Panther' for ease of writing and reading)
The weeks following Necalli's conversation with his father had been intense, filled with training, meditation, and what felt like endless preparation. The weight of his future as the next Black Panther was heavier than he had ever imagined, and yet, there was a quiet acceptance building within him. Like he had finally inched closer to his place in the world. His family had noticed a change in him too. He wasn't sneaking away from the training like he had been his classes. In fact, he had barely seen his friends since that night with his father. He'd sworn himself to secrecy about the Black Panther and found the best way to keep his mouth shut was to not have any opportunity to open it at all.
Torches flickered in the dark, their orange glow casting long shadows across the smooth stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of sacred herbs and incense, their pungent aroma filling Necalli's lungs with each breath. His father, Moquihuix, stood beside him, stoic and regal in his ceremonial armor, while his mother, Citlali, gazed at him with a mixture of pride and concern. Itzcóatl, his older brother, was there too, his face expressionless, though Necalli was sure he caught him winking at him when they caught eyes on the way down.
The elder shaman, dressed in elaborate robes adorned with feathers and gold, chanted softly as she prepared the sacred heart-shaped herb. The herb itself was unlike anything Necalli had seen, its glowing, vibrant veins pulsed with energy as though it were alive.
His father placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "This is it, Necalli. Once you drink the heart shaped herb, you will be taken to the Ancestral Plane. Trials await you my son, but trust in our ancestors and yourself. You have the strength to do this."
Necalli nodded, although his stomach churned with nerves. He had been preparing for this moment for months, but now that it was here, the enormity of it felt almost suffocating. No amount of preperation would have made him feel ready for this moment.
The shaman handed him a small bowl filled with the crushed heart-shaped herb, now a thick, black liquid. The smell was bitter, earthy, like damp soil after a storm. Necalli hesitated for only a moment before he lifted the bowl to his lips, closing his eyes as he swallowed the bitter mixture.
It hit him almost immediately. His vision blurred, and a warmth spread through his body, growing hotter and hotter until it felt like his veins were on fire. His heart raced, and the room seemed to tilt and spin around him. He stumbled, barely feeling his father’s hands as they lowered him gently to the stone floor. The torches dimmed, their light fading into swirling darkness.
And then, everything vanished.
Necalli opened his eyes to find himself standing in a completely different world. The jungle around him was impossibly lush, the trees towering overhead, their branches twisting into strange, ethereal shapes. The colors were too vibrant, too intense, leaves shimmered with hues of green that seemed to pulse, the sky above shifting from blue to purple and back again. The air was thick, alive with the sounds of birds, insects, and the distant roar of animals. It all sounded a millon miles away and right next to him at the same time.
But something felt…off.
The ground beneath him swayed like water, the trees bending and stretching, shifting in ways that made his head spin. Necalli staggered forward, his steps unsteady. The jungle seemed to be playing tricks on him, each tree he approached moved away, each sound he followed seemed to come from another direction.
He looked down at his hands and was surprised to find he could look straight through them. His form was an ethereal shimmering blue. solid and yet not. His whole body felt weightless, like he would float away at the lightest touch.
From the corner of his eye, he saw something dart between the trees, a quick flash of movement. Necalli turned, heart pounding, but saw nothing. Just more jungle. He tried to steady himself, tried to focus, but then there was a soft laugh, barely audible, but unmistakable.
"Lost already, little panther?" The voice was teased.
Necalli spun around, searching for the source. And then, from the shadows, stepped a figure, tall and lean, his face covered by a mask of a jackal, or was it a mask? Necalli knew in his heart who this had to be. The trickster god.
The god's body seemed to shimmer, like he was only half real, flickering in and out of focus. He took slow, deliberate steps toward Necalli, his movements fluid and unnerving. It was like every step shook his form in unnatural and unnerving ways. "You think you’re ready for this, hmm?" he said, circling Necalli like the jackal he was. "Ready to wear the mantle, ready to lead? To fight?"
Necalli frowned, trying to stay calm, but the world around him continued to twist. The trees bent unnaturally over him, the sky flickered like a broken light, and the ground seemed to shift like snakes beneath his feet. "I am ready." he said, though his voice didn’t sound as sure as he hoped.
The jackal god laughed, a low, mocking sound. "Oh, I don’t think so. You don’t even know who you are yet, do you? How can you protect them when you don’t even understand the weight of the crown you're about to wear?"
Suddenly, the god's face was inches from Necalli's, his eyes glowing with a strange, otherworldly light. The jungle seemed to close in around them, the colors deepening into a sickly green. "It's all a game, little panther," the god whispered. "A game you are very much unprepared for."
Necalli tried to pull away, but his feet were rooted to the ground, his body unresponsive. He glanced down and found his legs entangled in vines and roots, cementing him to the jungle floor. His mind raced, the world around him warping into grotesque shapes. The jackal god grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming.
"You'll fail," the god hissed, his voice echoing through the jungle. "Like so many before you."
And then, as suddenly as he had appeared, the trickster vanished. The jungle shifted again, the trees snapping back into their natural forms. The sky brightened into a glorious purple and gold, and the strange, eerie feeling lifted from the air. Necalli blinked, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. His heart was pounding in his chest, his mind reeling from the encounter. He felt the vines entrapping him slither away back into the soil.
But before he could collect his thoughts, the jungle parted, and from its depths, figures began to emerge, his ancestors. Each one adorned in the ceremonial armor of the Black Panther, their eyes glowing with a soft, ethereal light. They moved silently, their faces calm, yet stern, as they encircled him.
Necalli stood taller, his breath steadying as he met their gazes. These were the protectors of Dorado, the Black Panthers who had come before him.
One of the figures, a tall man with a jaguar pelt draped over his shoulders, stepped forward. His face was weathered, his eyes sharp and knowing. "You are Necalli, the next in line," the ancestor said, his voice resonating like a drumbeat in the quiet jungle. "We have watched you. We have waited."
Necalli swallowed, attempting to puff his chest and show his worth. "I am Necalli Dorado Cuauhpilli, heir to Dorado and the next Black Panther." He felt the gaze of his ancestors as his words hung in the air. They stared down at him, expectantly, not a judging stare, but one that made Necalli feel strangely comfortable. Like he was seeing different aspects of himself. "I don’t know if I’m ready." he finally admitted, his voice quiet.
Another ancestor, a woman with fierce eyes and armor that shimmered like obsidian, approached. "None of us were ever ready." she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "But the gods choose you. The mantle chooses you. The question is not whether you are ready, but whether you will rise to meet the burden."
Necalli clenched his fists, looking from one ancestor to the next. Their faces were stern, but there was a sense of understanding in their eyes. The same doubts, the same fears had plagued them once, and yet they had risen to the challenge. His eyes glanced upwards to a silhouette standing high on a tree branch, leaning back with his arms crossed against the tree. He felt familiar, much more familiar than many of the other Panther's before him. His eyes bore into Necalli like a drill, and yet the figure remained silent.
And then, the ground trembled beneath him.
The trees bent low, as though bowing to an unseen force. The sky above darkened, and a mighty wind tore through the jungle. From the heart of the storm, a colossal figure appeared, radiant in blue and gold, feathers like fire, his presence overwhelming. Huitzilopochtli, the war god, the sun god, towering above them all.
Necalli's breath caught in his throat as the god's immense form loomed closer, each step shaking the earth. Huitzilopochtli’s eyes, burning like twin suns, locked onto him, and everything else seemed to fade away.
"You stand before me, Necalli, son of Dorado." the god boomed, his voice like thunder rolling across the sky.
"Chosen by the gods, chosen by your ancestors. Do you doubt this path?"Necalli looked up at the god, his heart racing. The power radiating from Huitzilopochtli was overwhelming, yet there was something familiar in the way the god's gaze bore into him. "I... I don’t know if I’m strong enough" he admitted.
Huitzilopochtli's laughter echoed through the jungle, shaking the very trees.
"Strength is earned, not given. Through battle, through sacrifice, through fire. The path of the Black Panther is not an easy one, but it is your destiny."Necalli stood his ground, meeting the god's gaze. The world around him had been a whirlwind of chaos, confusion, and doubt. But here, in the presence of his ancestors, in the presence of the sun god himself, he felt something stir deep within him, a strength he hadn't known was there.
The god knelt, his immense form looming closer, his eyes burning like molten gold.
"You will face trials beyond your imagination" Huitzilopochtli said, his voice filled with power.
"But you carry the blood of warriors, the strength of of the panther. You are the son of the gods. Do not fear the burden."Necalli took a deep breath, the weight of the words settling in his chest. His ancestors watched in silence, their eyes reflecting both pride and expectation. He could feel the power of the Black Panther within him now, awakened, stirring.
He was ready.
But the spirit world wasn't done with him yet.
As Huitzilopochtli began to fade, the ground beneath Necalli's feet shifted once more, the jungle around him warping into a swirling, chaotic blur of colors and shapes. Suddenly, he was no longer standing in the peaceful, ancestral clearing but in a dense, suffocating mist. The air felt thick, almost liquid, as if it were pressing against his skin, making each breath laborious. He looked around, but the mist swallowed everything beyond a few feet.
A voice echoed from within the mist, low and rumbling. It wasn’t Huitzilopochtli, nor the ancestors, it was something else entirely. The sound of it sent a chill up his spine.
"Strength must be tested. A warrior's worth is proven, not given."
Necalli tensed, bracing himself as the voice faded into the mist. He took a step forward, and the ground gave way beneath him. He tumbled, spinning through the air as the world collapsed into darkness, only to land hard in an unfamiliar place. He groaned, pushing himself to his feet, and his surroundings slowly came into focus.
He was no longer in the jungle. Instead, he stood in the middle of a vast battlefield, under a blood-red sky. The stench of smoke and burning flesh filled the air. All around him, warriors clashed, their faces twisted with rage and pain. The clang of metal on metal, the shouts of battle, the cries of the dying, it was overwhelming.
Necalli's heart raced. Was this a vision of the past? A trial from the gods? He didn’t have time to dwell on the question as a warrior, clad in blood-soaked armor, charged at him, a jagged spear in hand.
Instinct took over.
Necalli dodged the attack, rolling to the side and grabbing a fallen sword from the ground. The weapon felt heavy in his hand, but he gripped it tightly, just in time to parry another strike. The force of the blow reverberated through his body, but he held his ground. The warrior attacked again, a flurry of strikes that left Necalli scrambling to defend himself.
He felt the strain in his muscles, the burn in his lungs, but he fought back, his movements becoming sharper, more precise with each exchange. This wasn't just a test of his physical strength, it was a trial of his will, his determination to survive. And he refused to fall.
With a roar, he disarmed the warrior, sending the spear flying from their hands. In one fluid motion, Necalli struck, his blade slicing through the air and the warrior dissolved into a cloud of black smoke, vanishing into the wind.
Necalli gasped, his chest heaving, but there was no time to rest. The battlefield shifted, the ground rippling beneath his feet. The warriors, the carnage, they all faded into the mist once more.
He stood alone again, the eerie silence pressing in on him.
"Strength is one thing." the voice echoed again. "But a true Black Panther must be more than a warrior."
The mist parted before him, revealing a new path, one that led into a towering, jagged mountain. Necalli hesitated for only a moment before moving forward. His body ached from the battle, but he pressed on, each step heavier than the last as the mountain loomed above him.
As he climbed, the air grew colder, the path steeper. His hands bled from gripping the sharp rocks, but he didn’t stop. The higher he climbed, the more the wind howled, threatening to knock him down, but he held firm, his eyes fixed on the peak above.
Finally, after what felt like hours, days even, he reached the summit. There, atop the mountain, stood a single figure, an old woman, her face weathered by time, her eyes sharp and piercing. She said nothing as Necalli approached, only gesturing to the edge of the cliff.
Necalli frowned but walked to where she pointed. Below him was a sheer drop, a chasm so deep he couldn't see the bottom. The wind whipped around him, howling in his ears. His hands dripped warm blood into the cold snow he stood on.
"Jump." the woman said, her voice calm.
Necalli's heart skipped a beat. He stared into the abyss, his stomach twisting. "I'll die if I jump."
The woman tilted her head, her expression unchanging. "A king must trust in more than what he sees. He must trust his instincts, his heart, and the gods that guide him. If you doubt, you fail."
Necalli's hands trembled at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away, to turn back. But deep down, beneath the fear, was something else. Something that pushed him forward. He glanced upwards once more, to the peak of the mountain and he could see the same figure from the jungle, perched, watching him like a predator. Then, Necalli realised where that familiar feeling was coming from. His armour was the set his eyes had been drawn to, the first Black Panther's armour. He looked back down to the chasm, a weight of expectation on him as he felt the first protector of Dorado watch.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and leaped.
The air rushed around him as he plummeted toward the darkness below. His heart raced, but he didn’t scream. He didn't fight it. He trusted.
And then, everything stopped.
Necalli opened his eyes to find himself floating in an endless void. There was no ground, no sky. Just an infinite expanse of nothingness. But he wasn't alone. Before him stood his ancestors, their forms flickering like shadows in the dark. The Black Panthers who had come before him, all watching, all waiting.
"Courage." one of them said, their voice echoing through the void. "Not just in battle, but in life. In choices. In leadership. This is what makes you worthy of the Black Panther."
Necalli nodded, understanding now. This trial wasn't just about physical strength. It was about trust, about courage, about accepting the responsibility that came with the mantle of Black Panther.
Suddenly, the void began to shimmer, the darkness peeling away like the skin of a snake, revealing a vast, starry sky above him. The stars swirled, forming constellations that danced across the heavens. And there, towering above them all, was the radiant figure of Huitzilopochtli once more, his presence filling the sky with light.
But something else moved in the shadows. Necalli felt a familiar chill crawl down his spine as the trickster jackal god appeared once again, grinning from the darkness.
"Oh, you’ve come so far!" the jackal god sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "But let’s see if you’re truly ready, little panther."
With a wave of his hand, the jackal god summoned illusions, distorted images of Necalli's worst fears. He saw his family falling to enemies, Dorado burning, his people enslaved. The visions twisted and spun around him, overwhelming, horrifying.
Necalli's breath caught in his throat. Fear clawed at his chest, and for a moment, doubt threatened to consume him. But then he remembered the mountain, the leap into the abyss. He remembered the words of his ancestors, trust. He closed his eyes, steadying his breath.
"You don't control me." Necalli said, his voice firm, cutting through the illusions like a blade. "I am Necalli Dorado Cuauhpilli, heir to Dorado and the
Black Panther."
The illusions shattered, dissolving into nothingness. The jackal god hissed in frustration, his form flickering. He vanished once more, retreating into the shadows.
Necalli stood tall, his heart steady, the fear gone. The trials were over.
Above him, Huitzilopochtli's eyes glowed with approval.
"You have passed, Necalli. You have faced fear, pain, and doubt, and you have overcome them. You are worthy." Necalli could feel the god's warmth as the giant smiled down upon him.
"Your path will be fraught with difficulties, Panther, maybe more than Dorado has faced since its first days, but you are truly one of my most capable warriors."The sky blazed with golden light as the war god stretched his hand toward him.
"Return now, Black Panther, son of Dorado. Your people await you."And with that, the spirit world faded away, the stars and gods dissolving into the golden light, leaving Necalli standing in darkness once more.
He blinked and suddenly he was back in the sacred cave. The flickering torchlight bathed the stone walls in warm hues, and his family stood around him, watching with a mix of anticipation and concern.
Moquihuix stepped forward, his voice low and steady. "You have returned, son."
Necalli slowly rose to his feet, feeling a new strength coursing through his veins. His vision of the trials, the gods, the ancestors it was all still fresh in his mind. But something inside him had changed. He was no longer the uncertain prince who had entered the cave.
"I am ready" Necalli said, his voice resolute. "I am ready to be the Black Panther."
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