(( ***Thiago Aquilar *** The Tlacique, who also call themselves "Servants of the Sun," are an ancient, mysterious bloodline originating from the inhospitable and unexplored jungles of South America. They rarely interact with other Cainites, which is why very little is known about this line among other vampires. The Tlacique follow the teachings of the ancient Aztecs and maintain their religion and culture into the modern age. ))

Nehuatl nictlālli, nicteōtlaz, nicmoyolloh.

Cualli ehecatl, nechitta, nictlayōlli.

Amo tlatskan, in motlaliztli nocā.

Nicnequi motēyōl, tlamīya in tonatiuh.

Nehuatl nitepiltzin in tlamohuālistli,

tliltic, cualli, tlāzōlli.

Amo nimitstlatla, nimitstlatla īhuān tlācualiztli,

titic, nimitstlazō, miquiz, yōliya.

Softly, softly… the night awakes.

The night is where I’m living,

my realm of smoke and stone.

I rest upon the rooftops,

forever and alone.

The moon becomes my sunlight,

it warms my breathless skin.

I see the things you’re hiding —

and draw their darkness in.

I prowl through narrow alleys,

on silent paws, unseen.

No sound betrays my shadow,

no light cuts where I’ve been.

I circle ‘round your footsteps,

so gentle, soft, and near,

you think it’s just a fleeting game —

but none who know me, linger here.

I am the night that calls your name,

a whisper, kiss, a fleeting flame.

To fall for me is to forget,

the dawn you’ll never see again.

I am the dream that drinks your fear,

so close, so warm, so pure, so sly.

And when my breath surrounds your heart,

it beats for me — before goodbye.

I purr when I desire,

my voice a siren’s thread.

I weave around your body,

until your pulse runs red.

Your scent is fire, soft and deep,

it burns into my veins.

I am temptation dressed in sleep,

and pleasure hides my chains.

I choose the ones I cherish,

I choose the ones I take.

Within my cradle of the dark,

no prayer can awake.

No morning light can find me,

no voice can draw me near.

I dwell where all your shadows fade,

and drink the taste of fear.

I am the night that calls your name,

a whisper, kiss, a fleeting flame.

Who feels my warmth will lose their way,

their soul will beg to stay.

I am the dream that takes you whole,

a spark of dark, of soft decay.

And those who call, who dare to stay —

shall live, yet die that way.

Nehuatl nictlālli, nicteōtlaz, nicmoyolloh.

Cualli ehecatl, nechitta, nictlayōlli.

Amo tlatskan, in motlaliztli nocā.

Nicnequi motēyōl, tlamīya in tonatiuh.

Nehuatl nitepiltzin in tlamohuālistli,

tliltic, cualli, tlāzōlli.

Amo nimitstlatla, nimitstlatla īhuān tlācualiztli,

titic, nimitstlazō, miquiz, yōliya.

Your breath still lingers in my trail,

my shadow sleeps before your door.

I fade — on silent paws.