Deep in the jungle, an ancient stone wheel creaks into motion. Somewhere in the shadows, a hideous laugh bounces between temple walls as watchful guardians blink awake, eager to see where fate decides to land.
And then there’s him. Mictlantecuhtli, the god of death, looming large with a grin that says, “Go on… take your turn.” He doesn’t need to lift a finger. The wheel does the talking, the ruins do the watching, and the reels do the rest.
So, step closer, keep your eyes on the carvings, and listen for that rattle of stone. In Mictlan, the future isn’t foretold… it’s spun.
