The Tragedy of the Aztec Assassin

It is just, a stormy lake. They think life is theirs to take. Though I hunt, my honor I keep. Those souls will be mine to reap. Stealth and silence is my game, Swift like wind through lion's mane. Twenty thousand planning to take the world away, One by one, every one, I will slay. Twelve villages captured and spread out, Hell, they won't be able to shout. In their thought, ten billion words they will swear.

As Maquahuitl kisses them, their flesh will surely tear. Soul Hunter soaked in wicked blood, For miles, the bodies carry the smell of crud. With wings I fly off beyond the sunrise. The purity of the world is my hope and prize. To home I go to the Land of the Eagle, see? There's a reason I'm called: Xibalbatli. Since the time of Aztec prime, I was hand crafted by the gods divine. With Quetzalcoatl's golden eye, I could see the white man was sly. I saw them come, their eyes were green, The only thing they knew, was greed. They burned our temples and stole our gold. "'Till time stops, you'll protect" I was told. Michtlantecuhtli granted me that of everlasting life. He gave to me what seemed like a very long knife. It is for the warrior said to save man. For it was crafted be every dead hand. The great god told me forever I will reap, The souls of the wicked shall forever sleep. Everyone that came and attacked for greed Had tried running away on back of steed. As I chased and called out "Why?!?" Quetzalcoatl gave me wings to fly. With eagle wings I chased away the white man, For it was my duty to foil the wicked's plan. All it took was a single slash for each, Merely one of the simplest lessons to teach. As I turned and looked back at what they had done It didn't take long to realize, that I was the only one. To save the world from the fate of my family tree I vowed to protect them under the name: Xibalbatli.

The Associated Press contributed to the release of this article.