Chapter 31
Deep in the cave, past the reach of sunlight, I meet the Guardians. I don’t hesitate before what I say. My mind is made up.
“Why did you do it?” I ask.
They’re in front of me, or they’re around me, or they’re not really here at all. They’re everywhere, in my lungs, in my blood, in my bones. The Ave, the Serpent, and the Feline.
I’m not Yanami. I will repeat myself until my voice gives out if it means getting answers.
“Why did you do it?” I shout.
They speak in unison, one buzzing hive, one screeching mass.
“The Sun Staff is not ours to give. The trials are from Inti himself-”
“Fuck you and Inti and the trials,” I spit out. I’m tired. Sweat drips into my eyes, but I can’t wipe it away with the veil covering my face. “Why did you give us the stone?”
Us, I say. I am not the Inka, not the past ones or the dead ones. I am not the one with a stone for a heart. I am not the martyr or the destroyer.
Or am I both?
“The empire would not survive without it, but we did not know its existence would destroy it as well.”
Just like me, the beings in front of me are not gods, not all-knowing or all-powerful. They were crafted, the same way every human was, with a purpose. To forgive myself, I have to forgive them.
If forgiveness is something any of us, anyone involved with this, deserves.
“Your Hero hid it during the last calamity,” I say.
“Yes.”
There was no reason for Yanami to lie about the history she gave me, but I still hoped it wasn’t true. No, the Guardians don’t deserve forgiveness, and neither do I.
“Then you made the same mistake again,” I press.
“You are a mortal. Remember that when you speak to us.”
I scoff, the harsh sound absorbed by the black cave around us. I hate it. I want the echo, the judgment choir. “No.”
I remember dying. I remember coming back. In the end, Inti gave me more than the Sun Staff, heavy in my hand. Inti pushed me forward in time, into my own self. I wasn’t ready, but Inti thinks I am now.
Let them remember I’m still me. I’m still Sinchinrei, Guardians’ Hero, but also Sinchinrei, Suyai’s other half, Mare’s Idol, Yanami’s lover.
I keep my head up and look each Guardian in the eye one by one. Through my veil, I see them clearly, but I know they don’t see me. Inti gave me much more than the Sun Staff.
The Serpent, Amaru, as I now know their true name to be, is a chimera of all animals that live in the mountains of my home.
With the head of bats in caves, llamas on steppes, felines who stalk their prey, Amaru’s face shifts with the little light creeping into the cave we’re in.
Their body, though, is one long form, covered in scales and reminding me of the fish I buy at the Lima docks, or even more, the trout I caught with my bare hands in the mountain rivers.
Their body ends in a flared tail, the scales catching light to look like a blue-hot fire.
Amaru stands on bird-like feet, claws at the end digging into the fresh, humid dirt below us all.
An amalgamation of all and nothing, who we were and what we end up.
The Feline, Puma, as I now know their true name to be, is one sharp ray of sunlight.
Their coat is an even tan, getting so bright near their stomach, it sheds light itself.
Their eyes are made of perfect geometric lines, like the peaks of the mountains or the dark caverns between stones.
Puma’s tail flickers, lying low and balanced, impatience or control?
Puma’s paws are giant, crushing, indenting their presence into the earth.
They are strength, restraint, growth, change, essence, our bodies throughout our lives.
The Ave, Condor, as I now know their true name to be, is three colors, simply yet multi-dimensional.
Black wings interspersed with white feathers.
Red head, lined with a white neck and a pointed beak at the end.
Every color stands on its own, clear and concise beginning and end.
Yet each color comes together, unable to be torn apart.
Condor flies high. Condor rarely comes down to earth.
I can tell by their wings, spanning the whole cave, ready to take flight.
I thought it was shadows around me and cracks in the cave letting in light, but it’s the Guardians themselves. Condor’s wings wrap around us all, a wall of shadows. Puma’s tan coat lights up the corners, the breaks between feathers.
And Amaru, Amaru stands closest to me, my size, as if we were equals.
This close, I notice what is unnoticeable. The texture. I crave touch. I want to feel the silk of the feathers, the fuzz of the coat, and the slide of the scales. But this close…
They’re made of stone.
All the features, both the ones that shine and the abysses that eat light, are illusions. The Guardians are mere earth.
We stare and stare, in broken time, outside of the world I know, we stare at each other until Amaru takes one step forward.
“It is my power that kept the child alive when she should have died. They called upon me, and I answered. I shouldn’t have.
No one should survive a power like that.
No one should have it forced upon them,” Amaru says.
I know it’s the confession the Serpent has been hinting at in my ears for days.
Did the Guardians yearn? Did Amaru want to speak this with a desire so great that they burst out of their scales reborn?
Did they understand me?
I can see them for what they truly are. They’re not Inti, the Sun God, granting me one of his sun rays in the form of a Sun Staff. They’re not humans. I search for something familiar, a cut out, lost flesh, something to signify the humanity I lost and all I threw away.
But they are not my redemption.
Amaru looks at me, ever-changing their form, showing no emotion, not in a way I understand.
The other Guardians stand still, no signs of impatience, no signs of frustration.
Are they friends? I think of Suyai and I laying on grass dry enough to pinch through our clothes, holding hands, children, innocent, staring at the stars and making up stories.
I’m the one with the sword right there! I’m killing the monster!
Friends, what do I know of friends?
“I allowed this to happen,” the all-encompassing voice says.
No matter what Amaru thinks, I am not their redemption either.
“If I call upon you, will you answer?” I get to the point. Time doesn’t move here, but I am a simple human. I need to act.
“No.” Their voices echo around me. Amaru steps back in line with the others. “You were chosen because you do not mimic us. Your want for things is great, larger than we’ve ever sensed, yet you have never taken from us.”
“Because I can’t.”
“Because you don’t want to.”
The certainty in their voice stops my next denial. My mother is a mimic. My grandmother, too. Even in families without the genetic line, there have been miracles of children unlocking mimicry in times of stress.
My hand is rubbing the star-shaped scar on my shoulder.
I wasn’t used to pain back then. My mother wasn’t abusive. When I hurt, it was because I couldn’t protect myself from obvious consequences. That’s a vital lesson to learn.
But what if I could have protected myself? When my mother’s dagger came toward me, the air shifted. I felt it back then. I sensed mimicry in the air, the harmless kind my grandmother often used before she passed, already old enough not to fear age.
Focus, Sinchinrei.
My mother’s dagger flew toward me. My mother’s eyes widened as the air turned electric.
I wasn’t doing anything consciously, but she looked so disappointed in me, I assumed I must have.
That’s a cheap way to win. I told myself I was too mesmerized by her words to dodge, but no.
Dodging was body memory. It was instinct.
I didn’t dodge because my body thought we already handled the problem.
Until I shut it down and let the dagger pierce my shoulder.
That’s a cheap way to win.
That’s what my mother said about mimicry. If I used it to beat her, if I used it to get back to her, she would never be proud of me.
“I never used mimicry because of my own ego,” I say, whispering, wanting to keep the confession to myself, knowing there is no use. The Guardians already know.
“What you call ego, we see as will power,” they answer, so neutral, so unaffected, like they aren’t tearing apart my world.
“Take away the mimicry, and your last champion was stronger than me in every way,” I admit. I completed the trials. I know better than anyone my strengths and my weaknesses. I’ve been more than delusional. My body is nowhere near its peak, nowhere near ready to survive a drawn-out war.
“Yet when the time came, when he held the stone, he begged us for help. He could not do what needed to be done, despite knowing what we’ll reveal to you now: We cannot kill a part of ourselves.”
Kill. What a human word.
“All you could do was hide it.” I’m too weighed down by the conversation to point out their mistakes.
Giving the stone to Inka Yanaru, then only a young, ambitious girl from Amantani.
Saving Yanami’s life during the procedure.
Choosing me as their hero. I’m too worn out to convince myself I could have made better choices.
“So this time, you won’t step in to help me. Even if I beg,” I say.
“It is time for a mortal to decide for the mortals.”
Before, that responsibility would have filled me with joy. It would have made me feel almost whole, almost successful, almost worth something. Now, it’s just a curse.
“That’s unfair to me,” I spit out.
“It’s not about you.”
Their voices echo and echo, and I explode.
“Then who is it about?!” I yell. “The girl you couldn’t let die, but expect me to kill?”
I do not know if it’s stunned silence that follows or neutral disinterest at my tantrum. Whichever it is, the outcome remains the same.
“Strike me,” they say. My brows furrow in confusion.
“Strike a path through me, and you will be where you are needed.”
It’s a cryptic instruction, but I don’t mind. I have nothing left to say.
I drag myself toward Condor’s wings, the same wings that create the illusive cave around us. The thump of the Sun Staff hitting the floor is the only noise.
I let myself touch the stone. It’s rougher than I expected. It’s dull. The shine I saw from them was just more broken promises.
I look at the Sun Staff shining real God-given light. It pierces through anything, Inti spoke into my mind. I lift it and aim for one feather. With all my strength behind me, I strike the wall.
The Sun Staff goes through in one push. The stone feather shatters.
Around me, weightless particles of rock float, suspended in time, electrifying my skin.
Energy explodes from each one, shooting out pure, unfiltered samay that is absorbed into the air, until the rock fragments drop to the ground, no longer filled with life.
Then, water pours in. I don’t stop. It’s when the water is up to my torso that I make a hole large enough to swim through.
Then, I’m drowning.
I fight against the waves until my body makes it to shore.
I’m on an island. I’m back to full health.
The crown weighs heavily on my head, but sweat and blood are no longer dripping into my eyes.
The burning sunlight is dull through the haze of my veil.
I focus my thoughts, expecting the restrained agony of Serpent healing, but nothing.
I am simply back to myself.
From where I stand, I can see Lima through the golden haze of the veil. The cliffside still calls to me, tempting me with its height, its challenge. The waves still snarl at shore. The rocks still sing.
But I am climbing for something different.
I need to get to Suyai, Mare, and Yanami.