“What must I do?”
She smiles and points to the sun on the opposite side of the room. “Learn to love her familia.”
I gape at her. “Family?”
“Inti is her brother.” Chaska taps her sandaled foot on the ground. “And the great Pachamama is her mother.”
The words seem to ripple in the air, hitting my body as if they were weapons of war. I want to duck and defend myself against such lies. But the serious expression on her face, so earnest and genuine, makes me pause. Can she be telling me the truth?
“I’ve never heard this version before.”
“It’s not a version,” she says. “It’s the truth. Can you accept what’s in front of you?”
I tug on the sleeves of my tunic. “It feels like a betrayal of everything I’ve been taught. Of who I am—an Illustrian who loves the moon.”
“You are still an Illustrian who loves the moon,” she says. “But you can also love the sun, who shines down on you and brings all things to life. You can still love the earth, who nurtures your body and gives you a home. The three of them wait for you, Catalina. If you never learn, you’ll never feel comfortable in your own skin. Misery and doubt will follow your every step. You need only open the door. Let go of your old teachings, and brave what you fear.”
What does she mean, brave my fears? I’m here, aren’t I? I’ve traveled all this way. “I have to think.”
“When you do,” she murmurs, “try to remember your people, and what would be good for them.”
This room feels too small. I want more space to breathe, to mull over this strange information that somehow feels right and wrong. The idea of dismantling some of my core beliefs frightens me. I’ve stood on them for so long. Because there are some things I’ve always known to be true: Luna is the goddess of the Illustrians, I am the daughter of the murdered royal family of Inkasisa, and the Llacsans are my enemy. These are the pillars that make up my foundation and if I take one away, what will I have left?
What else do I have wrong?
“Say I do believe you … what must I do to learn about Inti and Pachamama?”
Chaska crosses the room and opens the door. “They are outside right now. Will you come?”
I step outside, feel the warmth of the sun, the solid ground beneath my feet. All my life, I’ve been looking for someone, wanting to understand who I am, this gift that’s tormented and delighted me since I first glimpsed the stars shift. Maybe my resistance to Chaska’s words have more to do with fear—there’s safety in the familiar, even in my long years of disappointment.
But here’s my chance. I only need to face my ignorance.
She takes me high up to a hill overlooking Paititi. The view is different now from what it was at night, but equally awe inspiring. Red and gold tiles glint in the sunlight, the buildings nestled close to one another in bursts, and surrounded by lush trees and the curving stone pathway. The river cuts through the city, a pale slash of blue water. It doesn’t look like it houses any monsters.
To think this city was hidden for centuries, deep in the most dangerous place in Inkasisa. If everyone knew this place was real, they’d brave the jungle to see it for themselves. No, not just see it. Many would try to steal their secrets. Hunt their gold. Take their homes. It’s the way of the world, to conquer or be conquered. The Llacsans ran the Illari from their lands, and my people swept in with our army and drove the Llacsans up to the mountains. Four hundred years later, thousands of Illustrians were killed, and those who survived lived in a fortress for ten years.
No one is blameless. The history of Inkasisa makes me sad when I think of all those displaced people, the lives lost while my ancestors forced them to mine Qullqi Orqo for silver. The years when we’d forced them to acclimate to our way of life. And for the ones who refused, they were pushed out of the city. We took and took and took from them.
Why have I never thought about them before? All I’ve ever seen was my own hurt, my own losses. The world is so much bigger than my pain.
We sit down on the ground, under the shade of a great rubber tree, the soft grass tickling my ankles and in between my toes. The sun’s rays warm patches of my body, and the heat makes my shoulders tingle.
“Empty your mind,” Chaska says in a lilting voice. “And close your eyes.”
I do as she says, feeling ridiculous. Whenever I talk to Luna, my gaze is open and trained on the heavens. But this is her lesson, and I promised I’d clear my mind of ancient history.
“What do you feel?”
“My sweat dripping down my neck.”
She flicks my shoulder. “Try again.”
I picture the moment before I look into my dented telescope—how my breath goes soft, my mind clearing of worries. The same process is harder with Inti potentially listening. Time seems to slow as I let my breathing do its steady work, easing the tension from my shoulders, loosening my spine until it’s as if I’m nearly boneless.
“That’s good,” she murmurs. “Picture the many things you are thankful for, what would not be possible without the sun or earth.”
There wouldn’t be much without the pair of them. Morning light as the sun dawns. Flowers to admire, cool water to drink. The scent of honey and the taste of sweet mango, when it’s gone from green to red. Slowly, I feel a soft tickle near my edges, a shy and warm greeting. If I hadn’t been sitting perfectly still, waiting for the moment, I would have missed it.
