Immaculate Infernos, Smoldering Mountains: Geomythology and Weather Lore (Part II)

In Greco-Roman mythology, volcanoes, as well as fire, metallurgy, and the forge, were associated with the craftsman god Hephaestus (later Romanized as Vulcan). The cult of Hephaestus likely arose on the volcanic island of Lemnos, where the deity could have evolved from an older god of thunder or celestial fire (Guirand 139). The child of the tempestuous Zeus and regal Hera (and sometimes solely by Hera), Hephaestus served as the blacksmith and architect of Mount Olympus, arming the gods with weaponry and erecting heavenly palaces for them. He also constructed his own “sparkling dwelling of glittering and incorruptible bronze” which contained one of his legendary forges, filled with flaming furnaces, twenty crucibles, and a gargantuan anvil (139). Most all legends depict Hephaestus as being born physically disabled and unattractive, which is a drastic difference to the other gods, who are almost always attributed with ethereal beauty or might. Felix Guirand describes Hephaestus as “ill-made and lame in both legs. His feet were twisted. His stumbling gait and dislocated hip aroused the ‘unquenchable laughter of the Immortals’ when he walked among them” (139). As seemingly indispensable as he was, Hephaestus was treated horridly by his divine parent(s) and siblings. When Hephaestus was born, Hera, ashamed by her imperfect newborn, sought to hide him from the other gods by hurling him off Mount Olympus, where he plummeted into the sea.

Luckily, the infant Hephaestus was found by sea nymphs Thetis (daughter of the sea god Nereus and mother of Achilles) and Eurynome (139). The sea nymphs raised him in secret inside a deep grotto for nine years, and during this time, Hephaestus forged a thousand “ingenious” gifts for his caretakers. Exiled from Olympus, Hephaestus devised a scheme to return to his home. One day, he sent Hera an elaborate, golden throne as a gift. Hera accepted her forsaken son’s gift with glee, and sat upon it, only to find herself restrained by invisible and unbreakable bands (Guirand 139). Only Hephaetus could free Hera from her trapped throne, giving him the leverage he needed to enact his revenge. His conditions to release his mother included taking Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, to be his wife. Other legends state he also sought answers from Hera herself, such as the secrets of his birth. In any case, the gods relented, and Hephaestus released Hera before taking up his rightful residence among the other immortals. His life wasn’t great once he returned home, though. Not only did he have to contend with his family’s eternal teasing, but his wife, Aphrodite, was notoriously unfaithful to him, and consistently cheated on him with Ares, the god of war. Hephaestus also eternally pined after Athena, the warrior goddess of wisdom, warfare, and arts (Guirand 117).

From his fiery workshop, Hephaestus manipulated metals and other materials to construct many of the legendary objects found in Greco-Roman mythology, including Zeus’s golden throne, Zeus’s thunderbolts, the legendary shield aegis, Helios’s winged chariot (which pulled the sun across the heavens), Apollo’s and Artemis’s arrows, Demeter’s sickle, the cuirass of Hercules, the arms of Peleus, armor of Achilles, necklace of Harmonia, diadem of Ariadne, scepter of Agamemnon, the harpe (a type of sickle-like sword) of Perseus, and the hunting equipment of Adonis. Some of Hephaestus’s creations included living and metallic automatons, such as the Khalkotauroi (also known as the Colchis Bulls), a pair of bronze bulls that breathed fire, golden tripods that rolled on their own volition, a pair of immortal watchdogs fashioned from gold and silver, and the giant Talos (who safeguarded Crete from invaders). He also crafted two sentient statues that resembled golden maidens, which aided him when he walked, though he still needed his heavy staff. Hephaestus is also linked to the creation of humanity, as Zeus instructed the smith to create the first human woman. Zeus’s orders included molding a woman’s body with clay and water, and imbuing it with life, a voice, and captivating beauty (Guirand 140). Hephaestus even fashioned a golden crown for this woman, who would be named Pandora. Yes, the very same Pandora who would unknowingly unleash all manners of evil upon the world when she opened her box.

Fun Fact: Pandora’s box should be Pandora’s pithos, a type of large storage jar. The contemporary usage of Pandora’s “box” stems from a mistranslation from Erasmus, a 16th-century Dutch humanist who swapped the Greek pithos for pyxis (meaning “box”) in his retelling of the Pandora legend (Meagher 56).

Hephaetus’s mistreatment and misadventures would continue however, when he came to Hera’s aid while she was being beaten by Zeus (his father or stepfather). Enraged by his son’s intervention, Zeus grabbed Hephaetus by the leg and threw him from Olympus– where he fell for an entire day before landing on the island of Lemnos, “more dead than alive” (Guirand 139). It was here that he was taken in by the Sintians, who would tend to his wounds. Indebted to the Sintians, Hephaetus set up a smithy (occasionally called Aethaleia, related to αἴθᾰλος or aíthălos, meaning “smoky flame, thick smoke”) on Lemnos, inside Mount Moschylus, whose “flaming vapors” and “dull rumbling” were attributed to the smith god’s hammering deep in the earth (Guirand 140). Even with his celestial forge on Mount Olympus and the forge within Mount Moschylus on his sacred island of Lemnos (one of his centers of worship), Hephaestus constructed other earthly forges around Greece. Always under or inside volcanoes, these divine forges likely stemmed from the smoking tops of volcanoes, which ancient Greeks and Romans perceived as massive chimneys of Hephaestus’s workshops. Some of his other fiery foundries included Mount Etna, off the east coast of Sicily, and Vulcano, a small, volcanic island of in the Tyrrhenian Sea (140).

In native Hawaiian religion and mythology, Pele is a creator goddess of volcanoes and fire, attributed with creating the Hawaiian Islands (Hawaiian: Mokupuni Hawaiʻi). Her dominion over volcanoes is quite vast, and Native Hawaiians associate her with not only lava flows and craters, but also “various species of flora and fauna native to the area[s]” around volcanic sites (Bernbaum 171). According to Edwin Bernbaum in his article “The Cultural and Spiritual Significance of Nature in the Management and Governance of Protected Areas,” Pele is not feared, but cherished, as her lava is a force of creation, not destruction. He reports that “For native Hawaiians, rather than being a wrathful deity associated with volcanic eruptions, she is a benevolent, life-giving goddess who creates new land with her lava” (Bernbaum 173).

As legend states, Pele was born in Kahiki (meaning “foreign lands,” later identified by some as Tahiti), specifically a place across the ocean called Polapola, which she left in search of a new home on the canoe Honuaiakea (“the great expansive earth”) (Hoʻoulumāhiehie 1). Pele brought her family with her on her voyage from Kahiki, including her brothers and younger sisters– other gods and spirits of the Hawaiian pantheon. This legendary voyage is occasionally given an approximate date between 850 and 1250 AD (National Parks Service). Once Pele and her family arrived in what would become the Hawaiian Islands, they struggled to find an acceptable place for their new abode. Pele, who attempted to carve out a crater for them to live in, kept hitting seawater as she dug– prompting the divine voyagers to migrate throughout the islands in search of new sites for Pele to dig (Burbery 39).

In Hawaiian tradition, various types of volcanic rock formations have been attributed as pieces of Pele’s molten body. For example, when wind blows on bubbling or projectile lava, brittle (and razor-sharp) strands of superheated glass are spun into the air. These spindly wisps of volcanic glass are carried by the wind until they become entangled on tall objects, such as trees, powerlines, and radio antennas. The glass fibers often clump together, forming hair-like mats. Thus, these golden, glass threads are known as Pele’s hair and are said to be locks shed from the volcano goddess’s head (Mayor 102). Pele’s hair strands are incredibly thin, thick as a single micron, and can be spun quite long by the wind, ranging from a couple of inches to several feet in length (Mayor 102). As one might expect, Pele’s hairs are extremely dangerous, as they easy shatter into “microscopic glass needles” that can be inhaled or embedded in the skin or eyes (Mayor 102). In Iceland, these volcanic glass fibers are called nornahár, meaning “witches’ hair” (Mayor 102).

In Norse mythology, our world is known as Midgard (Old Norse: Miðgarðr, meaning “middle yard or enclosure”), and is but one of the worlds secured by the supermassive, cosmic ash tree known as Yggdrasil, which acts as the frame of all existence. In a fruit-bearing semblance, from Yggdrasil grows or hangs the Nine Worlds, which are each home to a notable race of peoples or monsters. For example, the highest and holiest realm is Asgard, the celestial home of the gods (akin to Mount Olympus of Greek mythology), which is connected to Midgard by a fiery, rainbow-like bridge known as the Bifröst (Guirand 254). The other worlds include Alfheim, home of the light elves (the Ljósálfar), Svartálfheim, home of the dark elves (the Dökkálfar), Jotunheim, home of the trolls or giants (Old Norsea; jötnar), Vanaheim, home of the Vanir (a distinct subset of the Norse fertility gods), Helheim, the land of the dead, Niflheim, land of primordial cold and mist, and Muspelheim, land of primordial fire and heat (Crossley-Holland xx). Like the other realms, Niflheim and Muspelheim also have inhabitants, those being the frost and fire giants (specific kinds of jötnar). Yggdrasil has three major roots, which are watered by three corresponding sacred wells at its base. There are also many creatures that live on the world tree itself, such as Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent, which encircles the earth by biting its own tail, Nidhogg, a dastardly dragon that gnaws at Yggdrasil’s roots, Veðrfölnir, a hawk perched atop the tree whose “piercing glance notes all things,” and Ratatoskr, a gossiping squirrel that scampers up and down the world tree to relay messages between Veðrfölnir at its top and Nidhogg at its base (Hall). Nestled in the world tree’s branches is a herd of four stags– Dáinn, Dvalinn, Duneyrr, and Durathror– who graze on its foliage and collect dew upon their antlers, which drip down to earth as either honeydew or rivers (Hall). What an ecosystem!

According to Norse mythology, in the beginning, there was only Ginnungagap (“yawning void” or “gaping abyss”), a primeval and supernatural void in which existed nothing (Crossley-Holland 3). From this void sprung up the first world, the hellish Muspelheim, followed by its counterpart, the icy Niflheim. Within the bleak and frozen wasteland of Niflheim is a singular source of warmth, the sacred well Hvergelmir (Old Norse for “bubbling boiling spring”), which is a serpent-infested hot spring from which all waters originate, and credited as the font of eleven rivers called the Élivágar (“Ice Waves”), whose waters are laced with venom (Crossley-Holland xxiii). Hvergelmir’s rivers rushed into the northern region of Ginnungagap, where the waters congealed and began to fill it with layer upon layer of ice. Conditions weren’t exactly favorable in the southern region of the abyss either, as it was left “molten and glowing” from the extreme heat of Muspelheim (Crossley-Holland 3). However, in the middle of Ginnungagap, the extremes of cold and hot converged to create a paradise.

A quick rundown of Norse Armageddon: According to Norse mythology, Ragnarök is heralded by the Fimbulwinter (Old Norse: Fimbulvetr, meaning ”mighty or terrible winter”), described as “For the space of several years[,] the world was enveloped in hideous winter. Snowstorms descended from all points of the horizon” (Guirand 283). The sun turns red before vanishing completely, with the solar goddess Sól being devoured by the evil wolf Sköll (Old Norse: Skǫll, meaning “Mockery” or “Treachery”). Wars and bloodlust will consume humanity, leaving humans to be “no better than wolves, eager to destroy each other” (283). The monstrous, god-eating wolf Fenrir (father of Sköll), who has been bound by divine restraints, breaks free of his bonds. His thrashing is powerful enough to tremble the entire earth. The world tree Yggdrasil shudders, and mountains collapse or split in two (283). Giant waves, generated by the writhing of the Midgard Serpent, Jörmungandr, will flood inland, propelling the ship of the dead, Naglfar, which ferries legions of giants (jötnar) to the final battle ground of Vígríðr. It is here that the terrible fire giant, Surtr, leading an army of his fiery kin, begins his assault. This is described in the Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology as “From the South appeared Surt, followed by innumerable fire giants. Lightning flashed from his sword and all around him flames sprang from the cracked earth. As he drew near rocks crumbled away and men collapsed life-less. The vault of the heavens was shaken by the tumult of this army in march and, scorched by the breathing furnace beneath, suddenly cracked in two” (284).

The mighty Thor perishing to the Midgard Serpent’s potent venom, which poisons the very air, is eerily reminiscent of a death caused by inhaling volcanic gases. The dimming of the sun and the Fimbulwinter, described as “the winter of winters…Three such winters will follow each other with no summers between them,” can easily be equated to a volcanic winter (Crossley-Holland 173). Severe volcanic eruptions can lead to atmospheric disruption and global cooling trends, due to sulfuric particles from eruption plumes reflecting sunlight from Earth’s surface. This can lead to drastically mild or cool summers, which could be interpreted by ancient peoples as so-called “years without summers.” There is contemporary evidence of this phenomenon: the ash ejected from the 1815 eruption of Mount Tambora in Indonesia spread around the world and induced global cooling– enough so that the following year of 1816 became known as the Year Without a Summer.

In Iceland, Muspelheim and later, Hell, was thought to have spewed forth from Mount Hekla, an extremely active stratovolcano in southern Iceland. The Icelandic Norse likely considered the volcano a portal or entrance into Muspelheim, given its intense activity. Hekla’s eruptions have been dated to prehistoric times, with eruptions dating back to 5050 BC (Icelandia). Just since 874 AD, there have been 20 significant eruptions, including the violent eruption of 1104 AD, which blanketed half of Iceland in tephra (pyroclastic debris ejected by an eruption) and forced abandonment of a 15-kilometre radius of Hekla (Icelandia). The 1104 eruption would earn Mount Hekla widespread infamy. In Europe, Christians began to call the volcano a gateway to Hell and claimed every aspect of the volcano was evil– even its snowy summit, which was reportedly employed by the Devil to freeze damned souls when they grew accustomed to hellfire (Lopes 266). This interpretation of the volcano was popularized by a (quite literal) damning description by Caspar Peucer, a German scholar, polymath, and physician, who would go on to instruct Danish astronomer Tycho Brahe (Lopes 266).

In sixteenth-century Europe, the volcano’s reputation spawned the popular medieval curse “Go to Hekla,” or in other words, go to hell. The word “heck” (which means “Hell”) could have originated from Hekla (Lopes 266). Cistercian monks in the Middle Ages, who considered Mount Vesuvius the “Chimney of Hell,” juxtaposed Vesuvius to Hekla as a “small furnace compared to this [Hekla’s] enormous inferno” (Icelandia). According to an Old Irish immram (a tale of an otherworldly sea journey), St. Brendan and his companions came upon “a high mountain, its summit wreathed in cloud and smoke,” which glowed like hot coals and was inhabited by devils (Jones 7). St. Brendan and his party, although losing one of their crew to the devils, were able to escape through the saint’s divine favor (Jones 7). As they sailed away, the mountain belched flames into the heavens before spewing flames over its side, giving the appearance of a “blazing pyre” (Jones 7). The immram seemingly describes a demonically charged volcanic eruption, likely of Hekla, which became known not only as mons perpetuo ardens (Latin for “the mountain of perpetual burning” or “ever-burning mountain”) but also as “the Mouth of Hell” (Jones 42).

Archeological findings in Iceland confirm that volcanoes, or in the very least, a few specific volcanic sites, were associated with the fire giant Surtr and his equally cinderous realm of Muspelheim. The pagan Norse, who arrived via longship around 860-900 AD on Iceland (at least a century before Iceland was Christianized around 1000 AD) would have not associated Hekla with the Christian Hell, or even their own version of the land of the dead, Hel (Lopes 266). As stated previously, the Norse Hel (or Helheim) was cold and dark, associated and sometimes even conflated with Niflheim, the primordial world of ice and mist. Thus, the Norse Hel was the complete opposite of the fire and brimstone of the Christian Hell. Furthermore, Hel was not ruled by the Devil, but the half-skeletal, death goddess Hel (from which the realm is named after), a daughter of Loki. The Icelandic Norse would not have interpreted volcanoes as hellmouths, but as entrances to Muspelheim, the world of fire. This is evident in religious artifacts uncovered in Surtshellir, a 1600-meter-long lava cave in western Iceland, located in the Hallmundarhraun lava field (Smith et al. 1).

The cavern is mentioned in multiple Icelandic works and sagas, such as the Sturlunga and Holmyeria. The 13th-century Icelandic medieval manuscript Landnáma, also called the Landnámabók (Icelandic for “Book of Settlements”) gives Surtshellir its name, and depicts it as the home of the fire giant Surt (Browne 244). It is from Surtr (Old Norse for “black” or “swart”) that the cave was also called Hellerin Sartur (meaning “black hole”), given the cave’s darkness. The Landnáma also describes how a chieftain’s son, Þorvaldr holbarki Þorðarsón, must transverse the treacherous wilderness of Iceland’s interior to perform a ritual at hellisins Surts (meaning “Surtr’s cave”) (Smith et al. 2). This ritualistic act requires him to chant a skaldic poem of praise (called a “drápa”) in order to appease Surtr, who is said to inhabit the cave. Finnur Magnússon, in the 19th century, wagered that Surtshellir had once been used by a “cult of Surt” (Smith et al. 2). Other legends report that besides the giant Surtr, Surtshellir is inhabited by dark spirits or ghosts (Browne 244). Interestingly, while this repelled some, others took advantage of the cave’s fearsome reputation, with bandits using the cave as a hideout in the 10th century (Browne 244). Furthermore, in their article “Ritual Responses to Catastrophic Volcanism in Viking Age Iceland: Reconsidering Surtshellir Cave through Bayesian Analyses of AMS Dates, Tephrochronology, and Texts,” Kevin P. Smith, Guðmundur Ólafsson, and Albína Hulda Pálsdóttir report that archeological findings in Surtshellir once believed to be remnants of those 10th-century bandits may actually be evidence of ritualistic usage of the cave. While some unnamed caves in the area were likely used as temporary shelters for outlaws, the article emphases “Surtshellir, specifically, was a site of unusual and potentially ritual activity undertaken by Viking Age elites to influence its occupant, a cosmogenic being whose actions could destroy the world” (Smith et al. 2).

The primary archeological site that supports this claim can be found 300 meters in the lava cave, roughly 10 meters below the earth’s surface, which lies in the cave’s “dark zone” (Smith et al. 2). Here, archeologists discovered Viking Age-era artifacts, such as stone structures, glass beads, and mass deposits of charred and unburned animal bones. These bones displayed cut marks inconsistent with standard butchery and instead bear cuts consistent with sacrificial slaughter methods used by the Icelandic Norse. This was confirmed by comparing similar animal bone remains found in Hofstaðir, a Viking Age feasting hall in northern Iceland (Smith et al. 3). One of the most noteworthy aspects of this site is the implication of volcanic suppression (or appeasement) via animal sacrifice and recitation of poetry. Using a plethora of archeological dating methods, such as carbon dating, examination of other Viking Age-era sites, and archival research, Smith and his team were able to create a chronology of the cave’s history. Between 880-910 AD, the Hallmundarhraun lava field erupts, and layers of lava flow form Surtshellir for several years. This violent eruption occurred within the first decades of the Norse’s arrival in Iceland– and “the eruption would have been one of the first, if not the first, volcanic event that Iceland’s Norse settlers witnessed and the first major effusive eruption directly witnessed by northern Europeans” (Smith et al. 8). Once Surtshellir had cooled off enough for the Icelandic Norse to venture inside (approx. 920-930 AD), they quickly began to deposit– and sometimes ritualistically burn– domestic animal bones inside, with massive piles of bones accumulating inside the cave. The sacrificial bones would remain there largely untouched until 2001, when looters reportedly began stealing from the cave (Smith et al. 2-8). The Icelandic Norse carried out the bone ritual(s) at Surtshellir for an estimated 98-148 years, which not only demonstrates a long-standing and multi-generational tradition, but also rules out that these archeological remains were merely the remnants of roving bandits (Smith et al. 11). The tradition of “feeding” Surtr or his cave would come to an end shortly after Iceland’s conversion to Christianity around 1000 AD.

Xiuhtēcuhtli (meaning “Lord of Fire” or “Turquoise Lord” in Nahuatl) is a central Aztec god of fire, heat, volcanoes, time, the calendar, and the central hearth. Other names for Xiuhtēcuhtli include Ixcozauhqui and Cuezaltzin (meaning “flame”). He is the father of the gods, patron god of rulership, and one of the Nine Lords of the Night (Vail 120). Xiuhtēcuhtli is usually depicted wearing red face paint with a horizontal black stripe across his eyes, two upright eagle feathers, a turquoise pendant, and a blue headdress made of feathers collected from the lovely cotinga (Nahuatl: xiuhtototl) or Cotinga amabilis, a small, blue-feathered bird native to Mexico and Central America (Vail 41). Interestingly, Xiuhtēcuhtli was often conflated with another fire god, Huehueteotl (“Old God” in Nahuatl), enough so that the 16th-century Florentine Codex syncretized the two gods as Xiutecuhtli-Huehueteotl.

The Codex Chimalpopoca describe three other gods, known as the three hearthstones, as Xiuhtēcuhtli’s guards: Tozpan, Ihuitl, and Mixcoatl (the god of hunting and wildlife) (Vail 294). Often depicted as an illuminator of darkness, Xiuhtēcuhtli is occasionally connected with the underworld (known as Mictlan in Aztec mythology), and he is said to have been born in a cave. He is also identified with the heavens, regarded as a sky-holder, akin to the Greco-Roman Atlas (Vail 437). All Aztec homes contained a sacred, central hearth in which a small fire was kept continually burning, which families used to provide offerings (such as food) to Xiuhtēcuhtli for his gift of fire (Roy 211). In like manner, sacred fires were also maintained by fire priests at Xiuhtēcuhtli’s temples, where offerings (such as food, wild game, effigies, etc.) were often cast into the flames to honor the Old Fire God (Moctezuma 57, 140, 178). He was both “feared and revered” given the volatile nature of fire– Xiuhtēcuhtli could unleash disastrous fires while also heating the home hearth (Mexicolore). He was the blaze of the wildfire, the simmer of the cookpot, the steamer of the bathhouse, and the incinerator of sacrificial hearts.

According to Aztec tradition, Xiuhtēcuhtli lived within a “turquoise enclosure” located in the center of the earth, which in turn was regarded as the center of the universe (Moctezuma 94). Eduardo Matos Moctezuma describes this enclosure as “the ‘navel’ of the world, the center and source of all life” (94). The tradition of the fire god living underground can be furthered by archeological findings of clay and stone sculptures of Huehueteotl, an aspect of Xiuhtēcuhtli, found ritualistically buried in the Valley of Mexico (Moctezuma 179). Some of these Huehueteotl effigies, such as those found at Cuicuilco, date back to the Mesoamerican Preclassic period (2500 BC – 200 CE). While the ancient Aztecs likely didn’t comprehend volcanology as we do today, given Xiuhtēcuhtli-Huehueteotl’s alternate title of “Lord of Volcanoes,” it is quite noteworthy that he was perceived as living underground in the molten core of the earth.

Further, archeological excavations in Cuicuilco have unearthed ruins of “the first signs of urbanism” in the Valley of Mexico, from the Mesoamerican Preclassic period (Moctezuma 20). These ceremonial structures would have been built and abandoned around the time of significant volcanic activity in the region (Moctezuma 20). For example, a stone circular temple base, 150 meters in diameter, was found buried under a layer of lava which originated from a ≈ 245-315 AD eruption of Xitle (“navel” in Nahuatl), a monogenetic volcano located in the southwestern area of Mexico City (Moctezuma 20). Eduardo Matos Moctezuma places the approximate dates of construction for these early religious structures around Lake Texcoco to 600 BC, and reports that sites like Cuicuilco showcase a significantly organized societal structure, as the labor needed to install such grand religious architecture would have been immense (20). In the geomythological context, active volcanoes would have been notably contemporary to the raising and destruction of these sacred sites in Cuicuilco.

Xiuhtēcuhtli, as a central deity in the Aztec pantheon, naturally garnered quite a few symbols during his time of worship. One of his most significant symbols was the Xiuhcōātl (meaning “Turquoise Serpent” or “Fire Serpent” in Nahuatl), which was also regarded as his nagual, a spiritual animal form (Moctezuma 94). Xiuhcōātl is usually depicted with a segmented body covered in blue scales, a back-turning snout, an elongated or gaping mouth, and a pointed tail ending with the sign for grass (parallel rods tipped with circular symbols) (Miller and Taube 188). The fire serpent’s body is usually wrapped in double or triple-knotted paper strips (occasionally nicknamed “bowties”), which symbolize the serpent’s role in rituals involving bloodletting and human sacrifice (Miller and Taube 188). Xiuhcōātl is often carried or worn on the back of Xiuhtēcuhtli (Milbrath 70). The fire serpent was often symbolized by torches and was worshipped through a sacred serpent dance (Moctezuma 140). Xiuhcōātl was regarded as both a fiery serpent and a magical, burning weapon, having been used by Huītzilōpōchtli (god of the sun and war) to slay the moon goddess Coyolxāuhqui. As a weapon, the fire serpent took the form of an atlatl or Aztec spear-thrower (Britannica).

Excavations at the Templo Mayor (“Main Temple” in Spanish) — which was located in Tenochtitlan, the capital city of the Aztec Empire (located in modern-day Mexico City) — uncovered a fragmented stone monument depicting Xiuhcōātl puncturing Coyolxāuhqui’s chest (Tuabe 50). In this instance, the xiuhcōātl represents solar rays, which banish the darkness of night (as embodied by the lunar goddess) (Miller and Taube 189). This violent and murderous act has linked the fire serpent with warfare, blood, and human sacrifice (Miller and Taube 47, Milbrath 69). Karl A. Tuabe theorizes Coyolxāuhqui’s murder with the fire serpent “illustrates the mythical origins of Aztec heart sacrifice. Just as the Xiuhcōātl serpent pierces Coyolxāuhqui, the sacrificial knife would tear the heart from the human captive’s chest” (50). Like Xiuhtēcuhtli, the Xiuhcōātl was also associated with timekeeping, and year signs were often placed on fire serpents in Aztec iconography (Miller and Taube 112).

Like their master, xiuhcōātl serpents were often associated with more than just fire. In Mesoamerican cultures, snakes were powerful socioreligious symbols, as it was believed that celestial bodies such as the stars, the sun, and the moon were carried across the heavens on the backs of cosmic serpents. Further, snakes shedding their skin led to their association of rebirth and renewal. As serpents, the xiuhcōātl were often seen as vehicles for the sun’s movements across the heavens (Miller and Taube 150). A quite famous example of this can be seen with the Aztec sun stone, which depicts a pair of xiuhcōātl carrying the sun on their backs (150). Miller and Taube describe the sun stone’s serpents as “On the Aztec Calendar Stone, however, two Xiuhcōātls carry the sun…from their mouths emerge what may be deified ancestors; the tied knots of paper on their bodies are the same bloodletting knots used a millennium before by the Maya” (150). This usage identifies fire serpents as symbols of sacrifice, “bearers” of the ancestors, and bringers of fire, heat, and life (Miller and Taube 151). As the primary weapon of the sun god Huītzilōpōchtli, fire serpents were also associated with human sacrifice ceremonies required to nourish the sun.

One of Xiuhtēcuhtli’s most notable rites was the New Fire Ceremony, also known as Toxhiuhmolpilia (“the Binding of the Years” in Nahuatl) which was held during Izcalli (meaning “growth,” “offshoot,” or “bud”), the eighteenth and last month (veintena) of the Aztec year– which coincided with January 30– February 18 of the Gregorian calendar (Milbrath 69, Moctezuma 178). An excavated carved stone found at the pre-Columbian archaeological site Xochicalco details the earliest mention of the New Fire Ceremony, dating back to 675 AD (Mexicolore). The last instance of this ceremony taking place was in 1507, as Tenochtitlan was conquered not long after in 1521 by Spanish conquistador Hernán Cortés and his forces (Cartwright). While Izcalli festivals were annual, the New Fire Ceremony occurred only once every 52 years.

The end of the cycle, for many Aztecs, thus felt like their potential last day on earth as existence itself verged on renewal or obliteration. It is unsurprising that this time of cosmic frailty was a bit nerve-wracking– the New Fire Ceremony marked the end of both the solar (xiuhpohualli) and ritual (tonalpohualli) calendars, when all old things must be destroyed or discarded (Bárcenas). The sacred fires of Xiuhtēcuhtli, which had been diligently kept burning for 52 years since the last New Fire Ceremony, were extinguished (Mexicolore). Hearth fires in the home, which were always kept alight, were also doused at this time. To await divine judgement in darkness was to hope for the kindling of the New Fire, and the reborn sun to rise on another 52-year cycle (Bárcenas). In a modern context, imagine that if the big shiny ball didn’t drop a certain way on midnight of New Years Eve, civilization was doomed to crumble as the very fabric of existence came undone. How festive!

Thus, the New Fire Ceremony’s role was to spark the fires of the new calendar age and stave off the end of the Fifth Sun (Mexicolore). According to Susan Milbrath’s Decoding the Codex Borgia: Visual Symbols of Time and Space in Ancient Mexico, the month of Izcalli hosted “festival[s] of fire and rejuvenation, because the trees were heated up to force them to bloom” (69-70). Every four years, during Izcalli, impersonators of the fire god were ritualistically sacrificed by fire (Moctezuma 178-179, Milbrath 70). As a period of resurrection, Izcalli rituals were believed to rush the seasons forward, banishing the cold of winter and bringing back spring (Milbrath 70). The role of the New Fire Ceremony as a rite of rebirth and springtime is furthered by its duration falling in the time of the year when the Aztec planted seeds in the mountains (where rainfall was more prevalent) (Milbrath 70).

As mentioned previously, fire was a fundamental, divine force to the Aztecs, who believed that Xiuhtēcuhtli’s pillar of fire acted as an axis mundi, or world pillar. This fiery axis intersected the entirety of the universe, starting in Mictlan (the underworld), up through the earth, and all the way up into Topan (the heavens) (Cartwright). In fact, the Aztecs regarded fire as the first creation of the gods, and thus the oldest and most sacred force in the universe. Likewise, fire as a medium of creation was also tied to the Aztec myth of the birth of the sun and moon, in which Nanāhuātzin self-sacrificed himself by jumping into flames to create the sun (Cartwright). The moon also came into being this way, with Tēcciztēcatl also jumping into a divine flame to become a second sun– though, since he hesitated when Nanāhuātzin did not, he was punished to only shine at night, becoming the moon. Thus, fire was not only the spark of all creation and the current generation of the world, but the sacrificial agent in which the sun was born and thus renewed every end-of-cycle. Likewise, it was fire, the most vital of forces, which served as the titular “binding” of time and the new calendar period.

During the New Fire Ceremony, fire priests constructed a new image of Xiuhtēcuhtli out of amaranth-seed dough, boys hunted wild game and tossed their spoils into fires as offerings, special festival tamales were consumed, purification baths were undertaken, and large dances of the lords were held, reflecting Xiuhtēcuhtli’s role as the god of rulers (Moctezuma 178-179, Milbrath 82). The most sacred event of the New Fire Ceremony was reserved for the last night of the festival– the drilling of new fire with the ritual kindling stick, the mamalhuaztli (Mexicolore). This act of channeling or imitating Xiuhtēcuhtli is described by Enrique Florescano, a Mexican historian and scholar, as a “once-in-a-lifetime ceremony” that serves as a “reactualizing [of] the moment of creation” equivalent of an Aztec “Big Bang,” as fire was the first thing created by the gods (Mexicolore).

Much occurred on the final day of the 52-year cycle. In like manner to the extinguishing of the old calendar’s sacred fires, it was customary to dispose of most or all physical possessions. Not too dissimilar from the mindset of spring cleaning, these old objects were perceived as belonging to the “old age” and thus needed to be purged before the start of the new calendar cycle. Old clothes were torn to pieces, furniture was broken, and even sacred objects like hearthstones and idols were discarded in nearby bodies of water (Bárcenas).

Once the purging of possessions was finished, people not waiting out the possible apocalypse in their dimmed homes would join a large and silent procession lead by fire priests, who were adorned in the religious regalia of every Aztec god and lead by a priest dressed as Quetzalcōātl (Mexicolore, Cartwright). This somber cavalcade, which started at sunset in the heart of Tenochtitlan, was the official start of Toxhiuhmolpilia, the Binding of the Years” ceremony. The priests, carrying symbolic bundles of 52 reeds, would lead the procession to Huizachtepetl (“mountain of thorns”), a sacred volcanic mountain now known as Cerro de la Estrella (“Hill of the Star”), which was located to the southeast of Lake Tetzcoco (Bárcenas, Cartwright). This was the place in which the New Fire Ceremony would be enacted and the fate of the world would be decided (Bárcenas). It was common for people to climb onto the roofs of their houses or nearby ridges to watch Huizachtepetl, in hopes of catching sight of the ignition of the calendar-resetting new fire atop its peak (Mexicolore, Cartwright).

Upon reaching the volcanic Huizachtepetl, the priests would congregate at a pyramid temple platform at its summit and wait until midnight, when multiple celestial alignments would occurr (Cartwright). The first was the Pleiades (“Tianquiztli” in Nahuatl, meaning marketplace) reaching their zenith in the night sky, following by star Aldebaran (known to the Aztec as Yohualtecuhtli, meaning “Lord of the Night”) rising into the center of the sky. Yohualtecuhtli was associated with Orion’s Belt, which the Aztec called mamalhuaztli, the “fire drill.” Once the stars where aligned, the high priest, donned in a turquoise mask to embody Xuihtecuhtli, would sacrifice a captive of high status.

Using an obsidian ritual knife (tecpatl), the sacrificial victim’s chest was split open, and their still beating heart was removed and held to the sky in offering to the gods (Mexicolore, Cartwright). The high priest then lowered the sacred drill of New Fire (tlequauitl), whose wood was collected from the Mexican Pepperbush (Clethra lanata), into the empty chest cavity of the victim. Rapidly rotating the fire-stick, the high priest would not stop until the night was aglow with a bright blaze, the sign that Xiuhtecuhtli had blessed the world with another 52-year cycle (Cartwright, Mexicolore). Lighting of this ghastly fire was cause of mass celebration, ranging from dancing and embracing to ritualistic bloodletting, in which people used thorns to pierce their ears and cast blood toward the New Fire (Mexicolore). The 16th-century Florentine Codex details young men lining up to have their wrists ritualistically cauterized with spots, representing the Yohualtecuhtli star (Mexicolore). With the emergence of a bright flame in the victim’s body came the promise of a new sunrise, and the successful banishment of human-eating star-deities. Yay!

The New Fire was stoked inside the chest cavity of the sacrificial victim until a priest was able to collect a flame from it. He would then use it to set fire to a nearby stack of wood. The resulting bonfire atop Huizachtepetl’s temple platform would be visible throughout the region. The heart and body of the sacrificial victim were then cast into the bonfire, in an imitation of the legend of Nanāhuātzin, who self-sacrificed himself by jumping into fire to become the Fifth Sun, Tonatiuh (Mexicolore). The sunrise would be interpreted as the rebirth of both Tonatiuh and Huītzilōpōchtli.

Worship in Aztec civilization was quite transactional, requiring acts of sacrifice and devotion to keep the gods sustained, and thus, the world preserved and operational. As stated previously, food and goods were common offerings, but the most powerful “currency” was sacrificial blood (Mexicolore). Human blood was a special form of tequitl, meaning a tribute or obligation to the gods, and was seen as an agent that maintained reality. For example, the sun (identified/conflated as Huītzilōpōchtli, the solar warrior god) needed daily nourishment (known as tlaxcaltiliztli) in order to move across the sky (Britannica). Tragically, Huītzilōpōchtli had a pretty strict and rather gruesome diet and required the Aztec people (the “people of the sun”) to provide him with fresh human blood and hearts to feed upon (Britannica). In a common human sacrifice ceremony, the still beating heart of a sacrificial victim was carved from the chest using a tecpatl, a sacrificial flint or obsidian knife (Mexicolore). The beating heart was then held high in offering to the sun, known as quauhtlehuanitl (“eagle who rises” in Nahuatl) before it was burned on coals in a ceremonial stone vessel called a cuauhxicalli (“the eagle’s vase” in Nahuatl) (Britannica). Daily, smaller-scale bloodletting was also common in Aztec culture, with Aztecs offering the gods a few drops of blood through self-sacrifice to revitalize the gods in thanks for their divine toils (Mexicolore).

During the 15th month of the ceremonial year Panquetzaliztli (meaning “Feast of the Flags of Precious Feathers”), prisoners of war and slaves were sacrificed to Huītzilōpōchtli (Britannica). As Huītzilōpōchtli’s mystical weapon, fire serpents (xiuhcōātl) were also large aspects of the Panquetzaliztli ceremony (Moctezuma 140). One of these rites included the crafting of a large effigy of xiuhcōātl, made of bark-paper. Red feathers were stuffed into its elongated mouth to represent emergent plumes of fire. The sun priests would carry the paper fire serpent down from the temple before burning it in the cuauhxicalli, in like manner to the human hearts of sacrificial victims– which showcases the Aztec belief that blood and fire were mediums of divine communion (Milbrath 81). Like the New Fire Ceremony, fire-drilling occurred during Panquetzaliztli, which, according to Susan Milbrath, “may allude to the sun’s light rekindled on the shortest day of the year, the winter solstice, which fell in Panquetzaliztli in 1496” (82).

Tezcatlipoca (“Smoking Mirror” in Nahuatl) is a significant Aztec god of obsidian, jaguars (the Aztecs associated their spots with stars), fate, sorcery, providence, hurricanes, darkness, the night, and the unseen (Milbrath 280, Moctezuma 180). Some of his epithets include “the Adversary” and “He Whose Slaves We Are” (Taube 32). His animal form or nagual is the jaguar (ocēlōtl in Nahuatl), and he was also linked to the obsidian sacrificial knife (tecpatl) (Moctezuma 180). Lord of the Night and Ruler of the North, Tezcatlipoca is a child of the Ōmeteōtl, and is the brother of Quetzalcoatl (Ruler of the West), Xipe Totec (Ruler of the East), and Huītzilōpōchtli (Ruler of the South). In the early days of creation, before the Five Suns (and five incarnations of the world), Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl created the earth and the heavens together (Taube 31).

However, the two divine brothers were not exactly close. Described as “sometimes allies and sometimes adversaries,” Tezcatlipoca and Quetzalcoatl embodied opposing forces. Quetzalcoatl is associated with peace, balance, water, and wisdom, while Tezcatlipoca resides over conflict, discord, change, and the smoking obsidian mirror, a symbol of volcanism and mystery. The symbolism of the Smoking Mirror is elaborated on by Karl A. Taube’s in Aztec and Maya Myths as “The smoking quality of the mirror may allude to the black obsidian glass, but also evokes his [Tezcatlipoca’s] mysterious nature, constantly changing through a cloud-like haze” (31-32). Like his brothers, his worship involved human sacrifice, and during his primary festival of Tōxcatl (“Dry Thing”), a young man who ritualistically impersonated Tezcatlipoca (ixiptla) was sacrificed (Miller and Taube 76, Milbrath 65).

In the geo-mythological context, Tezcatlipoca’s associations with obsidian “Smoking Mirrors” intrinsically connect him to volcanism and fire. He is also a destructive deity, and often the instigator of the birth and destruction of the world’s suns. The Aztec gods often blended into one another in terms of responsibilities and divine associations, enough so that Eduardo Matos Moctezuma refers to them as “never clear cut, one god often overlapping another” (94). However, it is important to examine which gods Tezcatlipoca shares his duties, especially when those gods further his underlying volcanic periphery.

One of the more notable gods related to Tezcatlipoca is Xiuhtēcuhtli, god of time, volcanoes, and fire, who was often merged with Tezcatlipoca, as both gods held divine patronage over rulers (Moctezuma 94). Also, one of Xiuhtēcuhtli’s symbols is the sacrificial tecpatl knife, which was commonly fashioned from obsidian, the same volcanic glass used to create “smoking” mirrors. The jaguar deity Tepēyōllōtl, (“Heart of the Mountain”), the god of dark caves, earthquakes, and echoes, serves as either one of Tezcatlipoca’s aspects or as a guise (Milbrath 273). Huītzilōpōchtli, god of war and the sun, also shared in Tezcatlipoca’s role as a god of power and sovereignty (Moctezuma 94).

In like manner to Tonatiuh embodying the Fifth Sun and world, Tezcatlipoca was the patron deity overseeing Nāhui Ocēlōtl (“Age of Four-Jaguar”), the earliest world and First Sun, otherwise known as the “The Sun of Earth” (Miller and Taube 70, Taube 34). Likewise, this sun was associated with the element of earth (Vail 31-32). Tezcatlipoca’s world was inhabited by giants, who ate only acorns and possessed the strength to uproot trees with their bare hands (Taube 34, Vail 31-32). Tezcatlipoca, as the god of night and darkness, was unable to become a bright sun, and consequently, the First Sun shone dimly in the sky– much to the dismay of Quetzalcoatl. Seeing his brother as an unfit sun, Quetzalcoatl struck Tezcatlipoca (as the First Sun) out of the sky with a stone club, and he plunged into the sea. Enraged, Tezcatlipoca emerged from the sea as a great jaguar– seen as the constellation Ursa Major by the Aztec– and sent forth a horde of bloodthirsty jaguars to devour humanity as punishment for Quetzalcoatl’s act (Taube 34). This was the end of Nāhui Ocēlōtl, the first sun. As you will notice from here on out, the cataclysmic end of each age corresponds with its name, in this case, the Age of Four-Jaguar ended with humanity being eaten by titular jaguars (Vail 31-32). Bad kitties.

The Second Sun, the “Sun of Wind” of the Nāhui Ehecatl (“Age of Four-Wind”) was ruled over by Quetzalcoatl. This sun was associated with the element was air. An earlier form of humans, who only consumed piñon nuts, lived during this age (Vail 31). Like most legends, there are some regional variations on how the Age of Four-Wind met its downfall, but the instigator is almost always Tezcatlipoca.

One account states that Tezcatlipoca, deeming Quetzalcoatl’s new race of people as sinful and greedy, transmogrified them into monkeys as penance. Quetzalcoatl, heartbroken by his people being turned into animals, ended his own Sun by unleashing mighty hurricanes or winds that blew the monkeys away. Another version of the legend places Tezcatlipoca as a more directly destructive force– wherein Quetzalcoatl (as the Sun of Wind) is defeated by Tezcatlipoca, who kicks him down from the heavens. The fallout of this stirred up devastating windstorms, which not only transformed the people into monkeys, but carried them away (alongside their creator Quetzalcoatl, in some versions) (Vail 31, Taube 34). Transformative weather like this becomes a common motif in the death of each sun, with the doomed inhabitants of the prior ages becoming the animals that now populate our world.

Tláloc, grief-stricken, abandons his divine responsibility of bringing the rain, and the world is ravaged by drought. Humanity’s resulting desperate prayers for rain only further upsets Tláloc, who sends forth a rain of fire to quell them. This fiery rain consumes all things, and magically transforms the humans into butterflies, turkeys, and dogs (Vail 31, Miller and Taube 70).

In other versions of the myth, it is Quetzalcoatl who unleashes the rain of fire upon the world (Taube 34). This is one of the most notable cataclysms of the Five Suns, as this “rain” of fire is likely an allusion to volcanic eruption (Miller and Taube 70, Vail 295). Karl A. Taube describes the end of the third sun as “This world is destroyed by Quetzalcoatl in a rain of fire– probably volcanic ash, a relatively common geological occurrence in central Mexico” (Taube 34). Thus, the Sun of Rain owes its destruction to fire, rather than water.

Making a temporary truce, the brothers Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca sought to restore both the heavens and the earth. They transformed themselves into two immense trees, which raised the heavens back into place in the sky (Miller and Taube 70). Tezcatlipoca’s tree was covered in shining obsidian mirrors, while Quetzalcoatl’s was adorned in emerald feathers of the Resplendent Quetzal bird (Taube 36). The brothers then slayed the earth goddess and toad monster Tlaltecuhtli, using her body to fashion the fifth and current incarnation of the cosmos (Cartwright). Humans– as in our version of humans— were crafted later from the ancestral bones of past humans, who perished in the great flood of the Fourth Sun (Taube 37). These bones were in the possession of Mictlāntēcutli, described as the “wily god of death” and the “devious skeletal god” Mictlāntēcutli (Miller and Taube 70, Taube 37). Quetzalcoatl (and depending on the retelling, also the god Xolotl) descended into Mictlān and whisked away the bones of humanity from Mictlāntēcutli. The bones were then ground into a fine meal, which the gods watered with their own blood (Miller and Taube 70). From this delightful mixture of divine blood and bone sprung forth us humans!

However, the world still sat in darkness, as no new sun had been created yet. The gods assembled in Teotihuacan (“”birthplace of the gods”), where it is was decided that one god must immolate themself in sacrifice to birth the new sun. The cowardly Tēcciztēcatl (who would become the moon) was originally chosen as the divine sacrifice, but he kept hesitating, leading to the sickly Nanāhuātzin jumping into the flames instead. It was only then that Tēcciztēcatl was able to leap into the great pyre as well.

It is unclear if Nanāhuātzin transformed into the new sun through the flames, or if his sacrifice was the spark from which the new sun was ignited. Either way, in went Nanāhuātzin, and out of the pyre popped out Tonatiuh, the Fifth Sun or the Sun of Motion. Thus, our era, Nāhui Olīn or the “Age of Four-Movement” had officially began!

While the sun (and moon) had been created, trouble still plagued the early days of our age. The disrupted sacrifice of Tēcciztēcatl and Nanāhuātzin had weakened the Fifth Sun, and it hung inert in the sky, unable to move across the heavens on its own and scorching the land beneath it (Smith 207). The gods agreed that Tonatiuh required a greater act of sacrifice– more spilling of divine blood— to be spurred into movement. Thus, Quetzalcoatl used the sacrificial tecpatl knife to slice open the chests of the other gods, removing their hearts one by one and lifting them up to Tonatiuh as offerings (Taube 44, Smith 208). Xolotl, the twin of Quetzalcoatl and a powerful shape-changer, desperately transformed into various forms (such as the axolotl) to avoid being found by his brother– but to no avail, as he too was eventually located and sacrificed. After the killings, Quetzalcoatl collected the finery and mantles of the slain gods, and wrapped them in sacred bundles known as tlaquimilolli, which the Aztec would recreate and worship as “receptacles” of divine essence (Miller and Taube 70).

The patron deity of Nāhui Olīn is a little more complicated than the other ages, as there are usually two gods directly associated with the Fifth Sun, and the New Fire Ceremony which sustained it: Tonatiuh and Huītzilōpōchtli. While Tonatiuh (“He Who Makes the Day” or “He Who Goes Forth Shining”) is almost always considered the patron deity of the Fifth Sun, he is often treated as the physical embodiment of the sun. Daily sacrifice is required to keep Tonatiuh moving across the sky, and thus the world intact, as a world without the sun is vulnerable to the Tzitzimīmeh, skeletal and fearsome goddess associated with solar eclipses and stars. However, as stated previously, the Aztec often blurred their gods together, and Tonatiuh shares many traits with Huītzilōpōchtli, with both being solar gods of warfare that required blood sacrifices to maintain the cycle of day and night. Both of these gods were also heavily involved with the New Fire Ceremony, alongside Xiuhtēcuhtli.

The Fifth Sun and Nāhui Olīn (the Age of Four-Movement) is fated to be destroyed by earthquakes and darkness. According to Aztec tradition, our age will meet its demise at the end of a 52-year calendar cycle. This apocalypse will be heralded by the failure to ignite a New Fire within the chest cavity of a sacrificial victim during the Binding of the Years ceremony (Toxhiuhmolpilia). Without the New Fire, Huītzilōpōchtli will be defeated and Tonatiuh will be snuffed out, allowing eternal darkness to fall. One immense earthquake, or a series of cataclysmic earthquakes, will wreak ruin to the entire world (Aguilar-Moreno 300). Meanwhile, humanity will be devoured by the Tzitzimīmeh, who will descend from the stars like vultures on a dying planet (Smith 205). Thus, like the namesakes of the other Suns, the Age of Four-Movement will be destroyed by the motion of the earth. Interestingly, Michael Ernest Smith reports that as of the last New Fire ceremony, observed in 1507 CE, there have been nine calendar cycles completed, and that our current calendar cycle will end in 2027 (Smith 206). Here’s hoping the whole earthquakes-eternal-darkness-demons-from-the-stars-devouring-humanity thing gets postponed some more. Please.