The Sky Splits Open

Fiction Historical Inca iNthacity Network December 17, 2024 0 Comments

Talea was not an ordinary girl. At least, not by the standards of the Incan Empire’s holy city of Cusco in the year 1507. She had midnight-dark hair cascading past her waist, eyes that gleamed like obsidian freshly polished from the temple quarry, and a birthmark in the shape of a crescent moon on her left shoulder. The priests said this made her touched by the gods, but for Talea, it was more burden than blessing. At sixteen, she would rather train as a warrior with the boys in the sunlit courtyards than spend her days weaving patterns of viracocha waves into endless bolts of cloth. But duty was sacred, and every fiber of her being was woven into the grand tapestry of empire.

Today, however, was no ordinary day. The air in Cusco was thick with anticipation and the scent of roasted maize. The crowds gathered in the Golden Plaza beneath the shadow of the towering Temple of the Sun. The Sapa Inca himself, draped in robes woven with pure gold thread, sat on a throne carved from a single massive emerald. Talea stood with the other teenage girls, their heads bowed in respect, their finely embroidered dresses glittering in the sunlight. Yet, her heart thundered in her chest—not out of awe, but fear. Rumors had been swirling for weeks, whispering of a celestial event unlike any other—a divine light that had pushed through the night skies. It was said that it was sent to test human devotion or foretell the world's unraveling.

And then it happened.

The Sky Splits Open

As the priests chanted in a melody that spiraled upward like smoke to the heavens, the sky seemed to... ripple. Talea felt it first as a pressure in her chest, an unearthly hum that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. One by one, heads tilted upward. The deep blue of the Andean sky was torn asunder, revealing a river of shimmering golden light that cascaded down to the plaza. A gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by murmured prayers.

Talea's knees weakened as she craned her neck to see something impossible: shapes descending from the light. Huge, metal-like objects hovered silently, their surfaces reflecting the sun in perfect symmetry. Impossible beasts? No. They were artifices—crafts made of unknown materials, unlike any raft or chariot known to man. The light emanating from them was soft yet blinding, warm yet overwhelming. The crowd fell to its knees, weeping and adoring these "celestial visitors."

The Messenger of the Sky

From one hovering craft descended a figure. It wore robes that shimmered and twisted like silk woven from pure sunlight. Its features were both human and inhuman—chiseled and symmetrical, yet lacking the warmth of a mortal face. Its voice filled the plaza without speaking.

"People of the Earth, we bring knowledge from beyond the stars. Do not kneel. Rise, and listen."

The Sapa Inca stood, his dense gold headpiece catching the light. Though silent, his expression was a mix of awe and resolve. Talea's pulse quickened. What did this being mean by "knowledge"? What knowledge could be so vast, so important, it required descending to the sacred heart of the Inca Empire?

The Cosmic Thread

The figure extended a glowing hand, and before their eyes, a crackling image appeared in midair. It was not woven but alive: shifting with specks of light that formed constellations and paths. The priests murmured reverently, recognizing these symbols as the movements of Inti, the Sun God, and Quilla, the Moon Goddess. But to Talea, the patterns seemed almost understandable. They formed a language—one of paths, collisions, and flows, as if explaining the breath of life itself.

Talea stepped forward, unbidden. The crowd gasped. A girl standing so openly before the gods—or whatever they were—was unthinkable. The ever-watchful priests reached for their staves, but the celestial figure raised a hand, silencing them. Its otherworldly gaze locked onto Talea.

"You see," the being said without moving its lips. And indeed, she did. The patterns resolved in her mind: a story told at the cosmic level. From endless darkness came a blinding burst of light, then a swirling dance of energy that cooled into matter, forming stars, planets, and the Earth beneath her feet. The early days of the universe roared to life in that single moment. Talea shivered, realizing she understood creation itself—its fury, its beauty, its infinite complexity.

The Test

"Why do you show us this?" Talea asked aloud, her voice trembling but true. The figure tilted its head, as if impressed at her boldness.

The Eternal Echo

As the beings ascended back into the sky, leaving behind a stunned silence, the crowd still knelt. Talea turned to face her people, unsure how to explain what she now knew—or if they were ready to hear it. Yet something beyond words had been passed to her, an eternal thread of truth that would one day weave into the stories of unknown descendants.

As night fell and stars twinkled over the Andes once more, Talea sat alone by the temple's steps. She did not see the heavens the way she once had. Now, they were not just gods or myths—they were a history, one that remained to be written anew by dreamers and seekers of every age.

And so, the girl who craved battles now carried the universe itself in her mind—and the weight of a choice that would ripple far beyond her lifetime.

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