“Really?” Gwil said. “You give up?”

  “Yes,” Tezca said, wiping away some snot. “I give up.”

  “You’ll apologize to everyone?”

  “Yes. I’ll apologize to everyone.”

  “Okay, great. Let’s—”

  “Wait, Gwil,” Challe said. Her breaths quick and stunted, she forced herself onto her feet. “Don’t listen to a word he says. He just tricked you a couple minutes ago.”

  Gwil narrowed his eyes at Tezca.

  “Don’t promise him anything,” Challe said, coming to stand beside Gwil. “That’s not your decision to make.”

  “Ah, right,” Gwil said. “Sorry.”

  Claws stomped his feet up and down, tears streaming down his face as he tried to grow his fingernails back. “Are you shitting me, Self? Because of fucking Octavia? She’s just a stupid snaketopus. How about I fucking decapitate her eight times?”

  Gwil flared Nirva and punched Claws square in the face. He crumpled and one of his arms spasmed as he lay on the ground.

  “He never knows when to shut his fucking mouth,” Tezca mumbled.

  Challe whimpered, and Gwil saw she had two of her hands wrapped up in a bloody bundle of her robe.

  “Why aren’t you healing?” Gwil asked.

  She shook her head. “Shh. Quiet, brother. Don’t let her hear you,” she said, but Gwil could only read her lips as a terrible outburst of thunder shook all of Malikau. They heard a series of crashes above. Clouds of dust coughed from the ceiling and a few stone blocks fell.

  Challe knelt, leveling herself with Tezca. “I want to know why. Why did you do that to her?” She squeezed her eyes shut, baring her teeth. “Why did you do this to all of us? What was the reason? Please.”

  “Who cares?” Gwil said. “We know what—”

  One of Challe’s rear arms smacked him across the face.

  Tezca grimaced. “You wanna know why? Fine. I’ll tell you. Not even Claws knows the whole story.” He hiccupped. “Only… Only Body knew everything.

  “It was five hundred years ago. I lived in a village called Malikau, some twenty kilometers from where we are now. Decent enough place for fourth-century Lunae. As safe and stable as you could hope for. A wild jungle used to grow in these lands—it protected us.”

  Tezca drew a deep breath. His cheeks flapped as he exhaled. “As far back as I can remember, I’ve been hungry. Hungry baby, hungry boy, hungry man. Always hungry. No one understands the ache.

  “I had a dream… To taste every type of food in the World. I wanted to try everything…”

  ***

  A stone hammer in one hand and a hunting knife in the other, Tezca peeked out from behind a thick tree, his eyes fixed on the slab of raw meat that lay—innocently—on the ground ten meters from his hiding place.

  The bushes on the far side of the clearing rustled. Tezca tried to keep his hopes in check. Perhaps it was just the wind.

  But then he saw the golden eyes. His prize—slinking and sleek, its spotted coat rippling as it crept forward.

  A jaguar. A precious, sacred jaguar.

  Tezca froze, holding his breath as his mouth went dry. He closed his eyes—he couldn’t bear to watch.

  A snapping clang and an anguished, desperate growl.

  Tezca sprinted out from behind his hiding spot as the big cat lost its shit, flailing and reow-ing at the pain of its crushed and lacerated leg.

  “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Tezca hissed. Damn thing would wake the whole village.

  He came in swinging with the hammer, landing a clean strike on the side of the jaguar’s head. The beast squealed as Tezca threw his weight on top of it.

  As it tried to twist its way out from under him, Tezca raised his knife, ramming it into the neck and slashing for good measure. After a few heartbeats, the jaguar ceased its writhing.

  Breathing hard, Tezca rolled onto his back. He did not feel a pang of guilt, but there was a tickle of worry. But that was silly. He was over five kilometers outside the village. No one could have heard.

  Tezca waited until his excitement sapped away his fatigue. He stood and slung the jaguar’s corpse over his shoulder.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Time to eat a sacred creature. Finally.

  ***

  He chopped off the jaguar’s head, then skinned it, butchered it, disposed of the bones and the viscera. As he sliced the meat, he determined he would eat the hindquarters first, then the ribs, then the shoulders.

  His nose and his subconscious worked in tandem to decide upon what sort of glaze he would prepare, and which seasonings he’d add.

  The time came to put his hard-earned delicacy in the oven. As it cooked, Tezca picked out a merlot, poured himself a glass, and made a salad. One must never neglect their vegetables.

  ***

  The table set, Tezca sat down, dancing in his chair as he tied a napkin around his neck. He felt proud of how he could barely knot the two corners. He considered his prodigal weight to be an offering to Demeter and Dionysus.

  Tezca had picked his own gods out of some old book. They were fun gods, the type that let you eat and drink whatever you wanted and as much as you wanted.

  His neighbors were so damn sanctimonious with all their stupid rules about not eating jaguars. He hated them. They were all mean to him and always yelling at him.

  Fork and knife in hand, Tezca admired the way the glaze glistened. He closed his eyes, breathed deep the distinct scent. One must appreciate all aspects of a meal—doubly so with a long-awaited dish.

  His tongue flopped out of his mouth. So close. After all these years, so close.

  Tezca stabbed his fork into the hunk of meat, watching the juices dribble out. With the precision of a surgeon, he carved off a bite and patted himself on the back for achieving the perfect level of rarity. Just the tiniest hint of pink—he’d been theorizing how best to cook jaguar meat ever since he was a child.

  It was forbidden to even harm a jaguar. To eat one was blasphemy of the highest order.

  Salivating, he stuck out his tongue and touched the tip to the bite of meat, shivering as he made contact. This was the culmination of years of careful planning and the release of so much agonizing anticipation.

  Tezca closed his lips around the fork and gently pulled the piece of meat off the prongs. He chewed tentatively, letting the juices flow. A bit gamey, but…

  “BALLS OF DIONYSUS! IT’S SO FUCKING DELICIOUS!”

  Tezca took a swig of wine. “Oh, oh, oh! I was so wise to choose the merlot!”

  He tossed his utensils away, picked up the meat like a sandwich, and devoured it, letting the juices run down his wrists.

  ***

  Tezca finished the last of the ribs, then downed his sixth glass of wine.

  There came a knock at the door. A rude, pounding knock.

  “Open up, Tezca!”

  Tezca snapped his greasy fingers. Moza, his bastard neighbor. Their houses shared a wall.

  “This is the third time this month you woke us up with your screaming!” Moza yelled through the door. “I have the sheriff with me.”

  Laughing to himself, Tezca stood up, knocking his chair over as he did so. He stumbled toward the door—he’d been at the wine heavy, but the way the tannins mingled with the spices in the glaze… Mmmm!

  Tezca threw the door open. “Good morning, Moza. Sheriff Duz. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “You woke my baby up twice tonight, you asinine oaf,” Moza hissed.

  Tezca looked at Sheriff Duz and shrugged.

  Hand to his forehead, Duz sighed. “Tezca, could you please just… try to keep it down? Do us both a favor. Neither of us wants Moza banging on our door at the break of dawn… Gods man, you’re covered in blood. You on a venison kick again?”

  Tezca’s face burned hot. And his heart, oh, it beat with the thunder of a thousand thousand storms.

  He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten that he was in the middle of committing a heinous crime. His satiation, his drunkenness, his euphoria… They combined to make him careless.

  Tezca threw his arms out wide and leaned on the door frame. But Moza, that nosy piece of shit, ducked under his arm.

  Moza gagged as he tried to speak. He went down on hands and knees, puking.

  “Er, it’s not what it looks like.”

  “What the—” Duz said, shoving his way inside. “No. Tezca, no. Gods. You horrible, disgusting monster!”

  The severed jaguar head was on the table, set upon a silver platter opposite Tezca’s seat.

  Duz slammed Tezca against the wall and, in a flash, had the blade of his knife against Tezca’s neck.

  Tezca had grabbed hold of Duz’s wrist, but Moza, that asshole, kicked out Tezca’s knee, dropping him.

  ***

  Tezca sneered as he looked down upon the jeering crowd from his elevated position atop the gallows.

  “I regret nothing!” he shouted. “You’re all idiots for not eating jaguar. You don’t know what you're missing.”

  “Shut up, Tezca,” Duz said. “You’re about to die. Show some dignity for once.”

  The noose scratched at Tezca’s neck. The trapdoor creaked beneath his feet.

  “C’mon Duz,” Tezca said. “These are my last words. They were all hoping this would happen someday. They probably don’t even care about the jaguar when my death is their reward.”

  The hateful crowd pelted him with rotten food as they screamed over each other.

  Duz shook his head and turned away.

  “I know you all hate me,” Tezca said. “You call me a thief and a glutton and a heathen. Just because I steal the occasional pig or cow or chicken from your farms. Zug, I know you claim you were forced to sell your farm because of how many pigs I stole from you, but the math just doesn’t add up, and I know you have a gambling addiction.”

  Zug had to be pulled down as he tried to climb onto the gallows.

  “Anyway, over the years, I’ve invited each and every one of you to my home for dinner. I’m an amazing cook. But you all reject me and treat me like a pariah.

  “But you know what? I’ve never murdered a person. And that’s what you’re doing right now. You always come out to celebrate whenever there’s an execution. You’re all murderers, and that’s a lot less holy than eating some stupid cat.”

  “Alright, that’s enough,” Duz said. “Tezca, you stand accused of cannibalizing a jaguar, our most sacred symbol. It’s… just about the worst crime I can imagine, except engaging in bestiality with one, I suppose. It’s tough to say which… well, never mind, I’m getting off track. Anyway, you’ve been gloating about your guilt so—”

  “I wish to repent,” Tezca said.

  Duz groaned but waved Tezca on.

  “My only regret is that I did not get to finish every last scrap of that jaguar’s delectable meat. Oh! And a second regret, that none of you will ever experience that delicious flavor.” He grinned at them. “I hope these words will nag at you for the rest of your lives. Whenever you try to worship the jaguar, I hope my demonic voice plagues you, forcing you to think of how it might taste. On your deathbeds, you will wonder how sweet the meat might be.”

  The trapdoor dropped.

  The brief fall was a final rush of freedom. Tezca felt like he was flying. The rope snapped. Terrible pain ripped through his whole body.

  Rotten luck, that he didn’t die immediately.

  Tezca’s body spasmed, the rope biting through his neck. He clawed at it with his fingers, spinning as the villagers continued throwing things at him. Drool and foam spewed from his mouth. He went deaf, except for the rushing blood in his ears. His lungs were starving, his head felt at once swollen and light as air.

  Duz appeared in front of him. “I didn’t hate you, Tezca.”

  Then he slit Tezca’s throat.