Seven Days Earlier
“The sun bleeds,” the priest had said, his voice low and trembling with reverence. He stood in the center of the village, his body painted with the sacred red of the gods. “And we must find its lifeblood before the calendar turns. Or the cycle will break, and the world will drown in darkness.”
Karo had stood among the villagers, his jaw tight, his amber eyes focused on the priest. He didn’t buy into superstition easily, but even he knew better than to defy the will of the elders. The sun was sacred—its warmth the lifeblood of the earth, its energy the gift of the gods. To find the “Blood of the Sun” was not just a symbolic duty but an honor. No one else had stepped forward when the priest asked for a champion, so Karo’s voice had rung out clearly among the murmurs of fear.
“I will find it. I will bring it back.”
And now, standing alone in the jungle with the jaguar’s blood on his hands, Karo wasn’t sure if he’d ever return. Perhaps he’d been foolish to think he could track the gods’ will through the endless maze of vines, ancient ruins, and predators—all of them hiding something ancient and powerful beneath their roots and stones.
The Curse of the Ruins
That night, as Karo rested in the shadow of a crumbling temple overgrown with moss, he thought about his people. He knew the jungle better than anyone in the village, but there was a weight to this task he hadn’t anticipated. If he failed—and if the Blood of the Sun was not found—the priest was clear: there would be no crops, no rain, no peace. The gods were not merciful.
The temple loomed above him, its stones etched with carvings of serpents and warriors locked in battle. The air here was thick and heavy, as though the very atmosphere bore witness to ancient sorrow. Karo ran his hand along the carvings, deciphering the story they told: a god descended from the heavens, its body ablaze with sunlight, and fought the rulers of this world. Its defeat turned its blood into precious jewels—jewels that were said to glow like fire when brought into daylight.
He felt the first pang of unease in his chest. What was he searching for? Blood—or gold?
The Betrayal
Three days after the jaguar encounter, Karo stumbled into a clearing. The temple at its center was grander than anything he had ever seen. Its pyramid-like structure clawed at the heavens, its steps worn smooth by the passage of untold centuries. The carvings were clearer here, as though time had spared this place for reasons he couldn’t understand.
What he didn’t expect was company.
A man stepped out from the temple’s shadows, his robe made from jaguar pelts, his face painted with ash. Tluac. Karo’s twin. The brother who had been banished from their village years ago for spilling sacred blood during a ritual.
“You’ve come far, little brother,” Tluac said, his voice smooth as the rivers that wound through their homeland. He gestured to the temple behind him. “But the gods don’t give their gifts freely.”
“Tluac,” Karo said, his spear raised. “I should’ve known you’d be here. What is this place to you? Some lair for traitors?”
Tluac chuckled, stepping closer. “Oh, no, Karo. This is no lair. This… is redemption.”
And then, from within the folds of his cloak, Tluac revealed it: a jewel, impossibly bright, glowing as though it contained the essence of fire itself. It was unmistakable—the Blood of the Sun. It pulsed like a heartbeat, alive, its light refracting off nearby stones and driving away the shadows.
Tluac’s betrayal was swift. Before Karo could process what was occurring, his brother was upon him, spear against spear in a deadly dance. Their blades clashed, the metallic tang of blood filling the air as their movements blurred into a frenzy of strength and will. But Karo, fueled by years of survival and the weight of his mission, overpowered Tluac, wrenching the jewel from his grasp.
Yet as his brother fell to his knees, Karo realized the truth: no one walked away with the gods’ gifts unscathed.
A World Aflame
By the time Karo returned to his village, the sun was setting. The people lined the streets, their cheers rising like a tidal wave as they saw the jewel in his hands. But Karo didn’t speak. He didn’t smile. The jewel’s light had dimmed, its glow now shadowed by something darker.
The elder priest reached for it, but Karo pulled away. He could feel it, deep within him—a hunger, an energy that pulsed and threatened to consume him. The Blood of the Sun was no simple treasure. It was alive, a fragment of a god that whispered temptations of power and eternal life.
And as the villagers celebrated, Karo stood in silence, the weight of his quest pressing heavier than ever. He had brought the Blood of the Sun home, but at what cost? He feared he had awakened something far greater than what the priest had anticipated—something that would demand sacrifices his people were not prepared to make.
In the dying light of day, Karo held the jewel to the heavens and whispered a silent prayer. The sun, it seemed, had more blood to spill.
And it would start with him.
Genre: Historical Fantasy
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Exploring My New Book: The High 5 Habit!
Disclaimer: This article may contain affiliate links. If you click on these links and make a purchase, we may receive a commission at no additional cost to you. Our recommendations and reviews are always independent and objective, aiming to provide you with the best information and resources.
Get Exclusive Stories, Photos, Art & Offers - Subscribe Today!
Post Comment
You must be logged in to post a comment.