The Bright Cataclysm
The thunder of hooves against dry earth shattered the still evening air. Golden sand scattered underfoot as the cavalry charge roared across the sun-scorched Andean plateau. At the head of the column was Tayhua, the formidable leader of the Jade Guard, his emerald-green tunic stitched with silver threads fluttering like a banner in the wind. His ochre leggings, wrapped tightly around his bronzed calves, gleamed with the sweat of battle. A golden circlet bound his black, shoulder-length hair, casting slashes of sunlight into the cloudless sky.
Behind him, the Guard rode with the precision of a serpent uncoiling, their obsidian-tipped lances glinting with predatory grace. The Incan Empire faced ruin, and Tayhua would not falter in this twilight of gods and men. The enemy had come not from neighboring tribes or rival kingdoms, but from the heavens themselves—a marvel of shining metal and eerie lights, a machine that had dared mar the perfection of the sunlit landscape.
The Bright Cataclysm
It had begun a week prior, with a sign from the heavens—a streak of blinding white fire burning across the night sky. The villagers of Ylta ran to the sacred towers ringing their bells of polished bronze and offering maize to the gods. But the gods did not answer. When morning came, an enormous structure stood outside Ylta, its surface smoother than any stone the finest Incan artisans could polish. It hummed faintly, cool to the touch, and foreign etchings glowed along its curved walls.
The murmurs of divine anger swept swiftly across the empire’s villages. Some begged for forgiveness; others whispered that perhaps an emissary of Viracocha, the great creator god, had arrived. However, when the eerie figures emerged from the structure—towering, pale beings in seamless black cloaks—hope turned to panic. The beings did not speak; they moved with liquid grace, their large black eyes emotionless as they seemed to study the mortals. Then the disappearances began. Children, elders, warriors—it mattered not. Every three days, more citizens of Ylta vanished, leaving behind a vacuum of fear and anger.
The Jade Guard Strikes
Tayhua had been summoned to the imperial city, Cusco itself. Emperor Pachakuti’s throne room was draped in crimson and gold, with braziers casting dancing shadows over walls adorned with carvings of sacred beasts. The emperor stood tall and imperious, though deep lines of worry marred his serene features. “You,” he had said, pointing to Tayhua, “are the serpent that strikes the condor's neck. Lead the charge. Deliver justice from the wrathful sun.”
As a child born into nobility but raised among farmers, Tayhua had always understood the balance of power and the fragility of faith. Now, atop his bronze-plated horse, flanked by his seventy best warriors, he charged forth under an evening sky painted with streaks of scarlet. The “Sky Beasts,” as the villagers now called them, had returned to their cold, buzzing structure after stealing a dozen more souls that day. It was there Tayhua would bury them—beneath obsidian, fire, and wrath.
The Final Stand
The structure loomed ahead, monolithic and alien against the Andean plateau. Strange glyphs shimmered along its base, and light streamed from its upper spires. Tayhua clutched his obsidian war-axe tightly, his knuckles white beneath his bronze gauntlets. At his side, Huari, his childhood friend and loyal second-in-command, grunted, “May the gods sharpen our weapons.” Tayhua smirked grimly. “And steady our shields.”
They dismounted a hundred paces from the structure, wary of its pulsating hum. Slowly, as Tayhua advanced, axe in hand, the front wall of the structure opened fluidly, like a snake shedding its skin. A dozen Sky Beasts emerged, their featureless black faces gazing down at him. Each bore a thin silver staff, long as a spear but devoid of any blade.
The first instant was silent—a moment frozen in time. Then came the noise, a deafening hum as quick bursts of light erupted from the ends of the Sky Beasts’ staves. Five warriors fell, clutching scorched wounds. “Forward!” Tayhua roared, his battle cry tearing through the chaos. His men surged like an avalanche, their obsidian and bronze weapons gleaming in the alien light.
The Duel of Worlds
Amidst the maelstrom, Tayhua leapt at the tallest of the Sky Beasts, swinging his axe with a ferocity bred from desperation. The creature moved with inhuman speed, sidestepping Tayhua's blow with a fluid grace that made it seem almost weightless. The war-axe struck the shimmering wall of the alien structure, sending a shockwave through Tayhua's arms. Sparks flew as the obsidian edge bit into the strange surface but left no mark.
The Sky Beast raised its silver staff, the end glowing with a malevolent light. Tayhua reacted instinctively, rolling to the side just as a searing beam of energy scorched the ground where he had stood. The air smelled of charred earth and blood.
"Huari!" Tayhua bellowed, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle. His second-in-command was already moving, hurling a bolas of braided leather and bronze. The weighted projectile struck the legs of a Sky Beast, tangling them and sending the creature sprawling. A cheer erupted from the Jade Guard, but it was short-lived. The fallen alien emitted a low, guttural sound, and the glyphs on its cloak flared with light. The bolas disintegrated into ash, and the alien rose, unharmed.
The Turning Point
Tayhua gritted his teeth. These were not enemies he could best with sheer force. He needed strategy. His eyes darted to the glyphs glowing along the alien structure, their patterns shifting like ripples on water. They seemed to respond to the Sky Beasts’ movements, pulsing in rhythm with the battle.
"The glyphs!" Tayhua shouted to his men. "They control the beast's power! Break them!"
Huari, ever quick to adapt, shouted orders to the warriors. The Jade Guard split into two groups: one engaging the Sky Beasts head-on, the other charging toward the glowing glyphs. Obsidian-tipped spears slammed into the alien symbols, and the structure shuddered as if alive. The humming grew louder, almost like a wail.
The Sky Beasts faltered. Their movements, once impossibly fluid, became jerky and uncoordinated. Tayhua seized the opportunity. He leapt onto the back of the tallest alien, his axe raised high. With a roar, he brought the weapon down on the creature's neck. This time, the obsidian bit deep, and black ichor sprayed forth. The Sky Beast crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
The Serpent’s Strike
The death of their leader sent a ripple of unease through the remaining Sky Beasts. They hesitated, their black eyes darting to the glowing glyphs that now flickered erratically. Tayhua saw the fear—or something akin to it—in their alien faces.
“Press the attack!” he roared, his voice a beacon of defiance. The Jade Guard surged forward, their bronze shields and obsidian blades a whirlwind of destruction. The Sky Beasts fought back with their deadly staves, but their coordination was broken. One by one, they fell under the relentless assault.
Tayhua turned his gaze to the structure, now trembling violently as the glyphs dimmed and faded. The ground beneath it cracked, and a deep rumble echoed across the plateau. “Fall back!” he shouted, his warriors retreating just as the alien edifice imploded with a deafening roar. A column of light shot into the sky, then vanished, leaving behind a smoldering crater.
The Aftermath
As the dust settled, the survivors of the Jade Guard gathered around Tayhua. Their numbers were halved, but their spirits were unbroken. Huari approached, his face smeared with blood and dirt. “We did it,” he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
Tayhua nodded, his gaze fixed on the crater where the alien structure had stood. “For now,” he said. “But they will return. We must be ready.”
The warriors of the Jade Guard raised their weapons to the sky, their battle cry echoing across the plateau. They were no longer just defenders of the Incan Empire. They were the vanguard of humanity, the first to stand against the invaders from the stars.
Epilogue
In the weeks that followed, word of the Jade Guard’s victory spread across the empire. Songs were sung of Tayhua, the Serpent of the Sky, and his warriors who had struck down gods. But in the quiet hours of the night, Tayhua often found himself gazing at the stars, his mind heavy with unease.
The Sky Beasts were not gods, nor were they demons. They were something else—something that watched from the heavens, waiting. The battle had been won, but the war was far from over.
And so, under the Andean skies, the Jade Guard began their preparations, forging new weapons, training new warriors, and fortifying their sacred lands. For they knew the truth now: the heavens were not the domain of gods alone.
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Gemini 2: Google’s Latest AI Model Challenging OpenAI o1
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