In the depths of Aztec cosmology, nightfall was not a simple end to the day but a profound transition into a realm governed by divine powers. The night itself was a living entity, animated by forces beyond human control, and its hours were ruled by the Lords of the Night, deities whose influence extended into every aspect of existence, from dreams to death. Among these rulers was Itztli, the god of obsidian and sacrifice, who presided over the second portion of the night. His presence in the Aztec spiritual landscape was not only deeply symbolic but also chilling, representing the darker truths of existence: the inescapable reality of death, the necessity of violence, and the eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
To understand Itztli, one must first appreciate the Aztec worldview—a cosmology built on cycles of regeneration, where time moved in endless loops rather than linear progress. This cyclical nature of time meant that life itself was dependent on sacrifice, a fundamental transaction between gods and humans. It was believed that the gods had sacrificed themselves to create the world, and in return, they demanded human blood to sustain it. Sacrifice was not merely an offering but a sacred obligation. Through the spilling of blood, the sun continued to rise, the rains fell, and the crops grew. Without this exchange, the cosmos would collapse into chaos.
Itztli, as the embodiment of obsidian, the sharp volcanic glass used in sacrificial rituals, was the divine instrument through which this exchange was made. His very essence lay in the cutting blade, the point at which human life was offered to the gods. The black sheen of obsidian, polished to a deadly edge, was not just a material object in the Aztec world—it was a direct connection to the divine. Itztli’s presence was felt every time a priest lifted a ceremonial dagger to perform a sacrifice. The blade was believed to channel his power, transforming a mortal act into something transcendent.
This connection to obsidian also linked Itztli to the harsher aspects of life and the inevitability of death. In many ways, he represented the violence that underpinned creation itself. To the Aztecs, death was not an end but a part of the natural order, and it was through the destructive act of sacrifice that life could be renewed. The cutting of flesh and the spilling of blood symbolized a return to the primal forces of the universe, forces that Itztli helped control. His role was not merely that of a passive observer; he was the executor of divine will, ensuring that the balance between life and death was maintained.
But Itztli’s influence extended beyond the physical act of sacrifice. As the second Lord of the Night, his power held sway over the mysterious and dangerous hours when the sun had disappeared and the world was enveloped in darkness. For the Aztecs, the night was a time of uncertainty and fear, when the boundaries between the living and the dead were blurred, and the gods who ruled over these hours wielded great influence over the mortal realm. The night was filled with nocturnal terrors, spirits roaming freely, and the constant threat of death lurking in the shadows. It was during these dark hours that Itztli’s dominion was most potent, reminding the Aztecs of the fragility of life and the ever-present threat of divine punishment.
The Lords of the Night were not simply abstract concepts of time—they were forces that actively shaped the world. Each lord, from Xiuhtecuhtli, the god of fire, to Mictlantecuhtli, the god of death, governed a distinct aspect of existence, with their influence extending over the Tonalpohualli, the sacred 260-day calendar. Itztli, positioned early in the night cycle, presided over the first dangerous hours, when the darkness still held the remnants of the day but was quickly descending into deeper, more treacherous realms. His presence during these hours was not only a marker of the passage of time but also a reminder of the necessity of sacrifice to keep the cosmos in balance.
The fear that accompanied the night in Aztec culture was not irrational. It was believed that during these hours, the gods were closer to the mortal world, and their power could manifest in terrifying ways. Dreams during Itztli’s reign were particularly fraught with meaning. The Aztecs believed that dreams were more than subconscious imaginings; they were messages from the gods, windows into divine will. A dream during the second portion of the night, under Itztli’s influence, might be a harbinger of death or disaster. Dreams of sacrifice, blood, or the appearance of obsidian itself could be interpreted as omens, warning of impending danger or the need for further offerings to appease the gods. These nocturnal visions were treated with great reverence, as they were believed to offer insight into the balance between the mortal and divine realms.
Itztli’s role, however, was not purely one of terror. In the Aztec worldview, destruction and creation were intertwined, and it was through Itztli’s sharpness that the cycle of life could continue. Sacrifice, while violent, was also life-affirming. The blood offered to the gods was not simply taken in vain—it was used to nourish the sun, the stars, and the earth. Without these sacrifices, the natural world would wither, and the forces of chaos would take over. In this sense, Itztli was both a destroyer and a sustainer. His power cut both ways, bringing death but ensuring the survival of the world.
This paradoxical nature of Itztli reflects the broader duality found in Aztec religion. The gods were not purely benevolent, nor were they wholly malevolent. They were forces of nature, unpredictable and often harsh, but necessary for the survival of the universe. The Aztecs did not see death as something to be feared in isolation—it was part of the same continuum as life. Itztli, through his association with obsidian and sacrifice, embodied this duality. His presence in the night reminded people that life was fragile, dependent on the gods’ continued favor, and that favor had to be purchased with blood.
As the night deepened, and Itztli’s time in the cosmic cycle approached, the Aztecs would have felt the weight of his influence. Every shadow held the potential for danger, every silence the whisper of the gods. The darkness was not just a void—it was a time when the forces of the universe were at their most active, and the line between the living and the divine was thin. Itztli’s reign during these hours brought the reminder that the world was held together by sacrifice, by the thin edge of an obsidian blade, cutting through time and space to maintain the cosmic order.
