When Qajay shifts, I see the silhouette of a newcomer. It’s not Tutay.
It’s the Guardian’s Hero. Sinchinrei. Head held high, not a single blemish on her. The only sign of battle is the blood coating the gold staff in her hand.
The Sun Staff.
I am outside my body and mind. Tutay’s dead, and I am here. I am nothing but the smoke that kills before the fire. I am here for a singular task, to save Cashan.
Chapter 32
Iforce myself through the crowds and the soldiers, my warrior’s crown and veil shocking some into silence and others into raucous shouts. I recognize some soldiers despite their wounds. I know they won’t recognize me. I shine as bright as Inti dripped in gold.
Through the shimmering film before my eyes, I see the dead look in the soldiers’ eyes. I’ve worn it too. But not now.
Now, I’m ready to fight.
I notice the Feline mimic guarding the bottom of the raised platform immediately. I see her muscles and connect them to the fists that beat Suyai bloody.
The Feline mimic could have been a strong competitor in another life, one where I didn’t have the Sun Staff or the element of surprise. In this life, no amount of last minute mimicry strengthening their skin can save them from the Sun Staff. I cut through their throat as if their body was air. Their head falls first, rolling down the steps in a sickening mess of broken bones and cut flesh.
Their body falls next, collapsing in on itself and falling at my feet.
They are dead before my anger has time to crescendo.
I barely exerted myself, but my breathing comes out harsh and desperate. My lungs burn, my chest tightens, my body hasn’t fought, but it begs for some sort of recovery.
There’s no time for recovery.
I start climbing the steps to the platform that holds my fate. I don’t look back. Not when commotion explodes below me. Not when I hear gasps and footsteps above me. Let them prepare. I’ll take them out with one hit.
But my biggest fear won’t be conquered by the Sun Staff.
Suyai is at the top, Mare unconscious on her lap. My anger flares, but Mare looks fine. I scan him up and down, but other than a few white hairs, he’s exactly how I saw him when he left. He almost looks at peace, like he’s asleep.
Suyai, on the other hand, I can’t look at Suyai.
She’s a mess of bruises and cuts, all haphazard and uneven. Injuries not from weapons but from someone’s bare hands. She looks at me with bruised eyes, not surprised, but analyzing. The feel of her eyes on me is welcome and familiar. It fixes something deeply broken, something that’s been off, twisted, since I left Lima without her.
Suyai has always been my guiding light. She’s the moral voice at the back of my mind, the hand that pulls me toward the right path. But I can’t blame the last few days on her absence. I can’t dwell on whether she’ll hate me. I have only one thing to do now.
I jog to stand in front of her, a good distance away in case the fight gets ugly. I intend to finish it fast, but as I take in the group around me, I hesitate.
The Aya Runa is here, six of them if I’m counting correctly. A man on a cot outside a makeshift tent, a woman kneeling by him. One woman is sitting down with three others, all on guard. They look wrecked, but that facade doesn’t change the undeniable power coming off them.
The only one more powerful is the princess, standing to the side, hunched in on herself as if ashamed.
It only takes me stepping forward for the assault to begin.
There’s a lean one, moving like slow-flowing mist, out of reach, but shooting mimicry my way that I don’t feel as attacks. I don’t understand what they’re doing until the first one hits. Ave mimicry, thoughts based. Inside my head, a memory plays out that isn’t mine, can’t be mine, but my body reacts as if it were. A memory of a burning inferno setting fire to my skin.
It only lasts seconds, but it’s enough for the next one to catch me off guard. They’re a fast one, an androgynous shape running circles around me. This one dares to get close enough to land hits, hits hard enough to leave me reeling. A Feline mimic, enhancing their agility, speed, and strength all at once. The lean one hits me with another dizzying thought, a memory of drowning, of losing my sense of direction. I’m standing still, and yet I stumble.
Right into the fist of the Feline mimic.
The hit gets me right in my abdomen, forcing bile up my throat. I spit out the vile taste, but don’t have a second to recover before a third person enters the fight.
A sturdy looking woman, red hair and piercings all throughout her face. If one of them would just get close enough, I would–
Another thought – dirt shoveled into my mouth, insects on my tongue, and the stink of animals – before another hit. I block just enough to avoid a direct hit to my ear, but the punch rattles my brain.
