Ciuapipiltin
When a noble Aztec woman died giving birth to her first child—or perished while that child still stirred in her womb—it was believed she did not pass quietly into the afterlife. Instead, she was transformed into a being known as a ciuapipiltin.
The name itself is deceptively beautiful. Roughly translated, it means “honoured woman” or “celestial princess,” a title that suggests reverence and grace. Yet the fate it describes is anything but gentle. The ciuapipiltin is reborn as a demonic demigoddess, a nocturnal predator sustained almost entirely by the blood of children.
She serves under the goddess Tlazolteotl, and like all who follow her, she marks herself in white—arms, hands, and face painted pale as bone. By day, she is unseen, but at night, she walks the world disguised as a beautiful young woman. Her arrival is said to be announced by the sound of infants crying and the sweet, cloying scent of flowers. Still, wherever she passes, she leaves behind a foul, unmistakable stench—a lingering reminder of her true nature.
The ciuapipiltin chooses her victims with care. She prowls silently through villages, sniffing laundry hung out to dry, using the scent to guide her toward households with children. Under the cover of darkness, she slips into nurseries and strikes. With long, sharpened nails, she tears into the stomachs of her victims, drinking their blood and consuming their entrails from within.
And yet, for all her monstrosity, the ciuapipiltin remains noble.
Because of her status, she can be reasoned with—appeased, even. Parents could beseech her mercy by leaving offerings near their infants: bread or small fragments of tectites, believed to be pieces of fallen meteorites. If satisfied, the ciuapipiltin would accept the gift and leave the child unharmed.
The Aztecs once built temples in her honour at crossroads and sites of brutal deaths. Offerings left there were meant to protect travellers from her wrath—a grim acknowledgement that some dangers could not be banished, only negotiated with.