Chapter 26 #2
“Because they’re our Guardians. They were awakened by Inti himself,” I say, each word slow and confused.
The princess does laugh, and it’s a fractured thing. Rough and disjointed, like she can barely breathe.
“They were awakened by his sun rays. The same rays the first Inka used. Is that not the point of the Sun Staff? That it’s the power of Inti himself?”
“You’re laughing at me,” I respond to her taunting questions.
“Then the story goes that the Sun Staff was seen as too powerful to have among the normal populace, so it was returned to its birthplace after Cusco was founded,” she continues without acknowledging me.
“Are you telling me that isn’t true?”
Again, she makes no effort to address my questions directly.
She looks at the fire, stares at it like it’s a loyal audience.
“Now, if the Guardians were awakened by the same rays we were, then the only difference between them and people is the stone we came from. And if the only difference between the Guardians’ samay and ours is that theirs is infinite, then the stone the Guardians came from must be the source of infinite samay. ”
It’s all a twisted version of the stories I grew up with. Infinite samay, the first Inka, mimicry, and its punishment. Folklore always has gaps in knowledge, but I never attempted to fill them in until now.
My words are careful when I speak. “So the Guardians are made from the Samay Stone.”
“The other way around. The Samay Stone inside of me is a piece of the Guardians. Inti didn’t give us the Samay Stone.
He gave us the Guardians that he sculpted from stones in the cave with his sunlight.
It’s that cave, lost to history, that is the source of infinite samay, not Inti, not the Guardians.
He used the cave to produce life and then sank it because he didn’t trust us with the stone itself. ”
“But he trusted the Guardians,” I whisper in awe. Is this sacrilege or the end of my world as I know it?
“That was his mistake,” the princess speaks plainly, as if she’s not criticizing our greatest god. “The Guardians gave us the stone anyway… or we took it from them. That I don’t know.”
I remember the last thing the Guardians said to me.
Protect her because it’s our fault.
“They gave it to us,” I say, with all the certainty I can muster after having my beliefs usurped in a few seconds. “They gave it to us, and they regret it.”
“I don’t care what they feel anymore. I’ve tried to speak with them ever since my mother told me this story, and they’ve never said a single word.
And then they alert us of a calamity, showing everyone that I’m worth absolutely nothing to them, that I’m not worthy of being the hero despite having a piece of them forced inside of me.
Do you know how that feels, champion? Do you know how much worse this all was knowing the truth? ”
“You’re not worthless,” I say on instinct.
“Don’t speak on things you have no right to. You’re the Guardians’ chosen, but you can’t even tell me the truth behind the last calamity.”
“It was a war,” I defend myself, but it’s hopeless. I’m weak once again, not physically this time, but in all the ways it matters.
“Over this stone, champion. It was a war waged over the stone that is inside of me even now. The stone that holds all my life energy hostage. The stone I’ve had to kill for, the only reason anyone has ever thought I was worth a damn thing–”
“Yanami,” I say, and my voice breaks. Because I can’t breathe. My vision blurs, and I rub my eyes to catch any tears. My emotions are overflowing, still so raw from Inti Raymi and the projection. I need to stay quiet. I look at Mare and see that he’s still sleeping.
“But none of this answers the question you asked,” the princess says, reserved and distant, her emotional outburst already in the past and shut away.
I’ve long forgotten whatever question had spurred this on. I’m enthralled by Yanami herself, by the story she weaves, the revelations, and the lies unveiled. What had I asked? The princess is waiting for me.
“Your mother’s home,” I remember. “You said Amantani was your mother’s home, but that can’t be true because your mother is Inkan.”
“She’s not anything anymore,” Yanami states the simple fact.
The truth of that statement cuts through me like shards of broken bone.
“My mother was born on Isla Amantani, and that is a sentence I never thought I’d say out loud.
The last hero the Guardians chose hid the stone after the war.
It became a myth, and the people of Amantani know the myths more than any Inkan.
She remembered the Samay Stone from childhood stories and begged the Guardians for it to save the empire.
They gave it to her, and she brought it back to Amantani. She took me with her.”
“That’s when it happened. When…” My speech falters. I wish I could see more than just the parts of her face lit up by the fire. I want to see all of her. I want to look at the scar on her chest as I speak.
“Yes. The empire was close to collapse. She needed a miracle, and the Guardians gave her the ability to perform an unlimited amount. Now, she’s dead.
The Guardians won’t speak to me, and this cursed stone is still inside of me.
” Her words are desperate, but her tone is bored.
She’s the princess from Lima again, but her mother is nowhere near. So why is she acting like frozen prey?
“Yanami, how can I take that thing out?” I ask, begging like a child.
“You can’t. It’s holding the last of my samay. I take it out, and the last of my samay leaves with it and…”
She trails off, and the unfinished statement hangs between us, frozen in time.
“You die,” I finish for her like a dutiful servant taking a whipping.
“My mother thought it all through. Put it inside me, and it stays a secret while having a built-in defense. Anyone who wants to take it will have to go through me fighting for my life. I was a fool, thinking her death meant any type of liberation. As long as this is in me, I’m still a part of her game, all of their games, the Guardians’…
” the princess laughs again, a hollow and pained sound. “Yours.”
“Come here,” I whisper. I hope I sound as desperate as I feel. “Please, I just need to touch you. Just come here.”
I can’t offer her anything else. Not a denial of what she said. Not a promise that this will end. I’m the Guardians’ hero, but I’ve never felt more villainous.
“No,” she says. “I’m not taking orders from any of you now. I promised to get you to Isla del Sol, and I’m going to do my best, but that’s it. I’ve said all I need to say. Now I can be done with this.”
I see her lying down in the shadows. I call her name.
Silence. I call it again. Yanami. I keep whispering it long past when I know she won’t respond, long past when my voice can make a sound.
I whisper it in my thoughts, and it’s only when I’ve fallen asleep, deep into a dreamless slumber, that I think I hear my name whispered back.