In the shadows of history, beyond the reach of mortal eyes, the Immortals have waged their secret wars, bound by the sacred code: *There can be only one*. "Eternal Duel: Untold Chronicles of the Immortals" brings to light the hitherto unseen sagas o...
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The sun rose blood-red over the vast expanse of Lake Texcoco, casting an ominous glow on the great Aztec capital of Tenochtitlán. In the heart of the city, atop the towering Templo Mayor, stood Itzpapalotl, an Immortal who had long ago cast aside her original name to embrace her role as a guardian of Aztec knowledge and tradition. Her dark eyes surveyed the sprawling metropolis below, a sense of unease settling in her heart.
For centuries, Itzpapalotl had walked among the Aztecs, witnessing the rise and fall of kings, the ebb and flow of power. She had seen the glory of their civilization, the ingenious engineering of their chinampas, the floating gardens that fed the city, and the intricate artistry of their temples and palaces. And now, she sensed a great change on the horizon, a disturbance in the fabric of history that even her immortal wisdom could not fully comprehend.
As she descended the steps of the temple, her simple cotton huipil fluttering in the morning breeze, Itzpapalotl's thoughts were interrupted by the hurried approach of a young priest. "Itzpapalotl, wise one," he said, bowing low. "The emperor demands your presence. Strange men have arrived from the east, men with pale skin and beards like the Toltecs of old."
Itzpapalotl's heart skipped a beat. She had heard whispers of these men, the Spanish conquistadors led by Hernán Cortés. Their arrival had been foretold in the ancient prophecies, but she had not expected them so soon. With a nod to the priest, she made her way to the palace of Moctezuma II, the Aztec emperor.
In the palace courtyard, Itzpapalotl found Moctezuma pacing anxiously, his ornate headdress of quetzal feathers and gold glinting in the sun. "Itzpapalotl," he said, his voice strained. "These strangers, these Spaniards...they bring with them weapons of thunder and beasts we have never seen before. Some say they are gods, come to reclaim the land. Others whisper of conquest and destruction. I need your counsel, wise one. What should we do?"
Itzpapalotl closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out with her immortal senses. She could feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon them, the inexorable march of history. "My lord," she said softly. "These men are not gods, but they are powerful. Their arrival marks a great change, a turning point in the story of our people. We must tread carefully, and seek to understand their intentions."
Moctezuma nodded, his eyes troubled. "Then we shall welcome them as guests, and see what they have to offer. But Itzpapalotl, I fear for our people, for our way of life. Promise me you will do all you can to protect us."
"I will, my lord," Itzpapalotl said, bowing her head. "I have walked this earth for centuries, and I have sworn to safeguard the knowledge and traditions of the Aztecs. No matter what comes, I will not abandon my duty."
As the days passed and the Spaniards made their way towards Tenochtitlán, Itzpapalotl found herself increasingly troubled. She watched as Moctezuma showered the conquistadors with gifts of gold and precious stones, hoping to appease them. She listened as Cortés spoke of his king, Charles V, and of the strange god they called Christ. And she sensed, with growing unease, the presence of another Immortal among the Spaniards.
