Let go, Catalina. It’s the only way.
I do as she says, surrendering myself fully to her magic. Toher.It’s as if I’ve relinquished the reins of a too-fast carriage, sliding to make room for another person.
Luna takes charge.
The priest snarls and raises both hands. Killasisa petals flutter to the ground, and I wince at the sight. Inevermeant for the flower to cause harm. It was a gift for a loyal mortal whom I loved. I see people give flowers to one another all the time, and I wanted to extend the same courtesy. Inti had been right, as he usually is. My brother and I fought brutally. He says I’m too impulsive, that I interfere too much. It’s taken me centuries to see the damage I’ve done by narrowing my regard to only one group of people. I wanted them to forget about my brother and mother; I wanted to be the only one they worshiped.
The time has come for me to make things right.
The boy named Kusi rushes forward, ready to knock Umaq off his feet.
“Wait,” I say, my voice holding all the music in the night.
Kusi slows to a stop, his expression transformed by his rage. He listens because he senses the power beating near my pulse points.
Umaq lifts his hand higher, outrage dawning. “You shouldn’t be able to speak.”
His voice is an annoying buzz in my ears. The force of the heavens fills my veins. Triumph blazes, fiery and red-hot. The priest snarls and snaps his fingers, urging his monsters to rip me in half. Irritation flickers through me. This small human has no love in his cold, misshapen heart. He’d started on this path by wanting better for his tribe, but sank into just wantingmore.Why can’t mortals ever be satisfied? My gaze lands on all the turned men, and my heart bleeds for them.
I am their goddess. They are my children, and not meant for this world.
The priest blinks stupidly. “Kill her! Kill her!”
They don’t obey, and Umaq’s jaw drops. He spins, rage contorting his features, and lifts his hands. His magic skims against my edges, picking and teasing, trying to find a weakness. It won’t find any. I step forward as a flash of satisfaction flares at the sight of his gaping mouth.
“What are you?”
“You cannot run from your fate,” I say coldly, and for half a moment I let my eyes fill with moonlight. The priest’s jaw slackens.
“Mercy! Please, I beg you. I can be useful to you,” he pleads. “I can help you, moon goddess. Talk of your greatness, spread your legend throughout Inkasisa. Everyone will fear you, respect you. Isn’t that what you want? To never be forgotten? You will be the most revered diosa because of me. Consider!”
“If you’re not going to use your heart,” I cut in softly, “then you won’t mind my taking it.”
I lift my palm and a sharp beam of moonlight cuts through the skin protecting his ribs. The razor-edged light slices upward, and the priest drops to the ground, clutching his chest, trying to stop the blood from leaking out. None of his efforts will work. The light cuts right above his heart. Flesh gives like butter. My finger moves again, this time downward. His screams rent the air, destroying the calm night. Blood gushes between his fingers, stains his robe, the white ground. One more cut ought to do it. I slash my hand. The priest falls backward, his arms swinging wide as he smacks the earth.
The priest is no more.
There’s a soft moan, and I turn, recognizing the voice. The girl Chaska lies a few feet away, clutching her wounds. I walk to her, my palms shining. Magic pours from my fingertips and light envelops her. Her breathing becomes steadier.
“Is that better?” I smooth a lock of hair from her face.
The girl’s eyes widen, her lips moving, but not a sound comes out.
“Rest now,” I say, and Chaska’s eyes drift closed. A wave of tenderness washes over me. The girl within me wishes to have the reins back, but I’m not finished yet. My children wait for me. Something must be done, for they cannot stay here.
No. Please. Don’t take Manuel, please.
I hear the request and worry my lip. The girl and I blend together, our hearts beating as one, our breaths coming from the same lungs. My hands are hers, but they shine silver with the power of the moon. “They belong with me now.”
Please.
My eyes fly open at the sudden wave of emotion that crashes into me. Feelings I’d long since forgotten: love, longing, desperate hope. The paralyzing grief of loss.
Please, heal him and Rumi.
“Catalina?” Kusi asks in a gruff voice.
I stare at the human. A friend. A leader of men. Then I glance at the one called Manuel, and my heart wrenches, nearly splitting. Slowly, I walk toward him, place my hands on his, and speak the language of the stars. His skin warms under my fingers, turning scorching hot. The cold bleeds from his body, slowly disappearing. When he blinks, it’s the face of someone who’s woken from the deepest sleep.
