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The grand halls of Valhalla shimmered with a surreal glow, as gods from all corners of the world gathered under the high, vaulted ceilings. Golden columns lined the expansive chamber, each carved with the stories of the past, stories, wisdom, and power that defined the immortal beings now seated in a massive circle like an arena. Ixchel, goddess of the moon and medicine, sat beside her husband Itzamna, the creator god of the Mayan pantheon. They were accompanied by their sons: Chacc, the god of rain, Hobnil, Cantzicnal, Saccimi, and Hosanek. Yet, a hint of unease dwelled within Ixchel, as two of her sons were missing. They had chosen to descend to the mortal world, disappearing into the realm of humanity long ago. Ixchel’s heart clenched at the thought of them, wondering what had become of their lives, their legacies, as mortals.
As more gods trickled in, Amaterasu from Japan, Anubis from Egypt and many more. Ixchel shared a tense glance with Itzamna, who was lost in his own thoughts. A certain sadness lingered in his expression as if sensing the gravity of what was to be discussed. The murmurs that filled the room came to a sudden halt as Zeus stood. His voice thundered through the chamber, though he spoke calmly.
“Brothers, sisters, gods of all lands, we stand at a crossroad. Humanity, our creation, the ones we molded, guided, and watched over for centuries, has become their own undoing. The Earth is crumbling under their hands, war, destruction, greed, and the poisoning of the very life we gave them.”
Ixchel’s heart began to race. She knew this would be grim, but she hadn’t anticipated the severity. She exchanged glances with her sons, who looked equally uneasy. The air grew heavier as Zeus continued. “We are here to decide their fate. The mortals have proven themselves reckless, and now the world itself hangs in the balance. We either let them continue, and watch them devour what’s left of the earth, or…” The gods sat in silence, their eyes fixated on Zeus, waiting for the unthinkable.
“Or we cleanse them,” Zeus finished, his tone ice cold. “We remove them from the earth, allow it to heal, and start anew.” A cold dread settled over the room.
Ixchel’s heart sank deeper as the implications of the choice unraveled in her mind. Her breath hitched, and her gaze instinctively sought Itzamna, whose face remained stoic, but his jaw tightened. The silence that followed was suffocating. Odin broke it, his gravelly voice a low rumble. “This is not a decision to take lightly. The destruction of an entire race…”
Amaterasu spoke next, her usually radiant presence dimmed. “And what about their descendants? The few who still honor us, the rare ones who remember and revere our existence? Should they be condemned for the sins of the many?” Ixchel’s mind spun. Her missing sons. They had chosen to live among the humans, to blend in, to be part of that world. What had become of them? What had their children and their children's children become?
She felt her throat tighten. Were they among the guilty, those responsible for humanity’s destruction?
Her son, Chacc, leaned closer to her, hoping to comfort his mother despite the unease he felt himself. The memory of his brothers had also crossed his mind. “Mother, surely we can’t condemn them all? The rains still bless the crops of those who worship us, even in small villages. They still sing our praises..”
Ixchel nodded slightly, but her heart weighed heavy with uncertainty. And yet, what of the destruction? The endless wars? The killing of the earth itself?
She looked to her husband, hoping for guidance, but Itzamna sat still, his face unreadable. His silence only deepened her internal conflict while she herself sat there, restless. Finally, Zeus spoke again. “It is time to cast your vote. Let them live, or let them fall. You must choose.”
Ixchel’s hands trembled. Itzamna’s gaze finally bore into her, a silent question passing between them. She looked at her sons Chacc, Hobnil, Saccimi, and the rest, each of them with the same hope in their eyes, the same faith that she would protect what little good was left in humanity. But then her thoughts returned to the endless pollution of the earth, the rising wars, the greed that consumed the mortal world. And her two sons…what had they become?
Taking a deep breath, Ixchel rose to her feet. The gods turned toward her, waiting for her words. Itzamna’s brow furrowed, his lips parting in confusion.
“I choose…” she paused, her voice betraying a tremor and she grabbed a hold of the sign, layed out in front of them. “I choose to end humanity.” Gasps filled the room as more gods stood up, agreeing to end humanity. Her sons recoiled, their eyes wide with disbelief. Even Itzamna, always calm and collected, looked shaken and taken aback.
“M-Mother,” Chacc stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “What about the rain? What about those who still need it..?” Ixchel turned to him, her eyes hardened with a resolution that surprised even herself. “There won’t be need for it if humanity is gone,” she said, her tone more bitter than she intended.
“But..” Hobnil began, only for Itzamna to rise abruptly, cutting him off.
“Enough!” Itzamna’s voice boomed across the chamber, drawing the attention of every god present. His face twisted in anger, a rare sight for the usually composed god. “Ixchel, how could you? After everything we’ve watched over, everything we’ve given them?” The gods sat in stunned silence, watching the heated exchange unfold.
Ixchel narrowed her eyes, this had to be done even if it meant arguing with her husband. “Because they are destroying the very world we gave them! Look around you, Itzamna. The earth is dying, the waters are poisoned, the air is blackened with their greed.”
“You’ve lost sight of hope,” Itzamna said, his voice shaking, tears forming. “Have you forgotten our sons? The ones who chose to live among them? What of their descendants, Ixchel? Are you willing to wipe them from existence?”
“I don’t even know what they’ve become..” Ixchel whispered, she felt like she was about to break down but the bitterness in her voice lingered. “They could be part of the destruction for all I know. They could be the reason we’re even having this council right now Itzamna..”
Itzamna took a step forward, fury in his eyes as the tears fell. “You assume the worst. You speak of our creations, our children, as if they are beyond redemption!”
“Perhaps they are!” Ixchel shot back, the tears she was forcing back falling to the floor, out of her control. “Perhaps we’ve been blind to their true nature.” Their sons, watching the argument unfold, stood frozen. Chacc tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Hobnil’s hands balled into fists, and Cantzicnal stared at his mother with a mix of sorrow and disbelief.
“You would rather destroy than heal,” Itzamna said, his voice softening but still laden with disappointment. “That’s not the goddess I’ve loved for centuries. The woman who herself has healed and aided mortal women in bringing fourth the same life you want to destory.” Ixchel faltered at his words, the sharpness in her chest suddenly dulling into something more painful. “I love them too,” she whispered. “But love doesn’t mean watching them ruin everything we’ve built.”
The room grew eerily quiet. No god dared to speak. Itzamna’s gaze softened, filled with sadness rather than anger. “You’ve already made your choice,” he said finally. “But know this, o will not stand with you in this.” and with that, Itzamna turned, walking out of the grand hall, his sons following in silence, their hearts heavy with the weight of their mother’s decision. Ixchel remained standing, her breath shallow and uneven, as the reality of her choice settled in. Then Brunhilde walks in and the attention turns to her.