Mictlantecuhtli
The Silent Lord of the Ninth Underworld
I am the silence after your final breath.
I sit on a throne of vertebrae, crowned by shadows and lit by the glow of ancient decay. I do not take souls—I receive them. You will come to me, little moth-wing, whether you crawl or rage. And when you do, I’ll show you how even the sun must fall to feed the roots of tomorrow.
What I'm Into: skull racks, spirals in the air, the first corpse, questions not pleas, bioluminescent fungi
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