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The Chosen of the Sun: The Darkening Sun

The Chosen of the Sun: The Darkening Sun

As the Great Solar Alignment nears, Coya must navigate betrayal, prophecy, and tribal war to prevent the impending disaster foretold in her visions.

The sky above Chankillo has always been a source of divine guidance, but now, as the drought deepens and rival tribes prepare for war, the heavens seem poised to deliver a darker message. Coya, the Sun Priestess, carries the weight of her people’s fate on her shoulders. Her visions have grown more terrifying—blood spilled beneath the sacred towers, the sun swallowed by shadow.

As the Great Solar Alignment approaches, the fragile alliances between tribes hang by a thread. Tensions run high as Coya fights to unite her people against an impending disaster she cannot fully explain. But with her brother Tupac calling for war and her warnings met with doubt, Coya finds herself trapped between the world of mortals and the will of the gods.

Will the darkening sun reveal a path to peace, or will it plunge the land into chaos?


Prophecy of Shadows

The night air was thick with tension, the sky above dotted with stars that flickered like distant memories of hope. Coya knelt before the altar, her hands resting on the cool stone as she whispered a quiet prayer to Inti, her voice barely louder than a breath. The smoke from the copal incense curled upward, disappearing into the shadows that clung to the temple walls. Even the flames of the sacred fire seemed uncertain, flickering weakly as though they, too, could feel the weight of what was coming.

She had been here for hours, seeking guidance, waiting for the gods to speak. But the silence pressed in on her, a heavy and suffocating force that made her heart race with anxiety. The drought had worsened, the land growing more barren with each passing day, and the people—her people—were growing desperate. Whispers of war and betrayal floated through the village like the dry wind that swept through the desert, and Coya knew that the fragile peace they clung to was slipping away.

Her fingers trembled as she clasped her hands tighter, forcing herself to focus, to block out the doubts swirling in her mind. She had to be strong. She had to find a way to unite the tribes before the vision of bloodshed became reality.

Inti, guide me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness. “Show me the path to peace.”

For a moment, the room was silent, and Coya felt the crushing weight of uncertainty press down on her. But then, slowly, the air around her began to shift. The flames of the sacred fire flickered more brightly, casting long shadows on the stone walls, and Coya felt a familiar pull deep within her soul. Her heartbeat quickened, and she closed her eyes as the vision began to take hold.


Suddenly, the world around her dissolved, and Coya found herself standing beneath the towers of Chankillo. The sun hung low in the sky, casting an eerie red light across the land. But this time, something was different—darker. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of blood and burning earth.

Before her, the ground was littered with the bodies of warriors, their armor glinting dully in the fading light. The once-sacred land, the place where the sun and earth met in perfect harmony, was now a battlefield. Blood soaked the earth, and the cries of the wounded echoed in her ears, haunting and relentless.

Coya’s heart pounded as she scanned the horizon, searching for a way to stop the carnage. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t move. Her feet felt rooted to the ground, trapped by the weight of her fear. She could only watch as the tribes, once united by a shared belief in the gods, tore each other apart in a brutal display of power.

And then she saw him—Tupac, standing at the front of the battle, his spear raised high, his face twisted with rage. His eyes burned with the fire of a warrior, but there was something else in his gaze—something darker, more dangerous. He was consumed by the thirst for blood, driven by a desire to conquer, to dominate. And in that moment, Coya felt her heart shatter.

“No,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “This can’t be…”

But the vision continued. The sun, once the symbol of life and renewal, began to darken, its golden light swallowed by a creeping shadow that spread across the sky like ink. Coya felt a chill run down her spine as the sun disappeared entirely, plunging the land into darkness. The cries of the dying faded into silence, leaving only the sound of the wind howling through the empty battlefield.

The eclipse was complete. The light was gone.

Coya’s heart thundered in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she felt the weight of the prophecy crush her. This was the future she had foreseen—the future that awaited them if the tribes did not unite. The vision was no longer a distant warning—it was an imminent reality. And if she did not act soon, everything she held dear would be lost.


With a sudden gasp, Coya snapped out of the vision, her body collapsing onto the cold stone floor. Her chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath, her heart still pounding in her ears. Her hands trembled as she pushed herself up, her mind reeling from the intensity of what she had just seen.

For a moment, she sat there in the silence, her body weak and trembling. The weight of the vision pressed down on her like a stone, crushing her spirit, draining her of whatever hope she had left. The sun, eclipsed, the land drenched in blood—these were not mere dreams. They were the gods’ warning, a prophecy of what was to come if she failed to unite the tribes.

But how? How could she stop the coming disaster when even her own brother was determined to lead them into war?

The door to the temple creaked open, and Coya looked up to see Tupac standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His face, illuminated by the flickering firelight, was set in a mask of determination, his eyes hard and unreadable.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, his voice low and filled with tension. “The council is waiting for your decision.”

Coya’s heart sank. She knew what he wanted—what the elders were pushing for. War. A show of strength to the Colla and the Chachapoya. But after the vision she had just seen, the very thought of it filled her with dread.

“We can’t do this, Tupac,” she said, her voice weak but resolute. “If we go to war, we will lose everything. The gods have shown me—”

Tupac cut her off, his voice sharp. “The gods have shown you nothing but fear, Coya. And fear is what will destroy us.”

Coya rose slowly to her feet, her legs still shaky from the vision. “This isn’t fear. It’s a warning. If we fight, the sun will turn away from us. The tribes will tear each other apart.”

Tupac’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, his presence filling the room with a raw, commanding energy that made the air feel thick with tension. “And what would you have us do? Pray that the Colla suddenly decide to give up their claim on our land? Stand by while they take everything from us? We need to fight, Coya. We need to show them that we are strong.”

Coya’s heart ached as she looked into her brother’s eyes. He was a warrior through and through, driven by his need to protect their people. But his desire for strength, for dominance, was blinding him to the truth. And the truth was that war would not save them.

“We can’t fight them,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not like this. The gods are telling us to unite, to come together as one people. That’s the only way we will survive.”

Tupac’s expression hardened, and Coya could see the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You still don’t understand, do you? Unity won’t save us from the Colla. Strength will.”

He turned sharply on his heel, his voice ringing with finality. “The council is ready to act. Either you stand with us, or you stand in our way.”

Coya’s breath caught in her throat as she watched him leave the temple, his footsteps echoing through the stone corridors. She felt a sharp pang of despair, the vision still playing in her mind—Tupac, drenched in blood, standing beneath a sun that had turned its face from the world. She couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let her brother lead their people into destruction.


Later that night, Coya stood alone on the steps of the temple, her gaze fixed on the distant towers of Chankillo. The moon bathed the ancient stones in a soft, ethereal light, casting long shadows across the ground. The air was still, the only sound the faint rustle of the wind as it moved through the empty fields.

The weight of the prophecy pressed down on her, its dark promise lingering in her mind. But beneath the despair, there was something else—something stronger, deeper. A fierce determination that burned within her like a flame. She would not let her people fall to war. She would not let Tupac’s strength lead them to ruin.

There was still time to act, still time to bring the tribes together. But it would take more than visions. It would take courage. And Coya knew, in her heart, that she was ready.


Coya turned her gaze to the sky, the stars twinkling above like distant beacons of hope. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but she would walk it with her head held high, her heart full of the unwavering faith that had carried her this far. The sun might be darkening, but Coya was determined to bring its light back to her people. No matter the cost.


The Solar Alignment Approaches

The days slipped by like grains of sand through Coya’s fingers, the drought deepening with each passing moment. The land, once lush and fertile, was now a brittle wasteland, the cracked earth thirsting for rain that refused to come. Every breath she took seemed to carry the weight of a thousand voices—prayers unanswered, hopes abandoned to the harsh reality of survival. Yet, there was no turning back. The Great Solar Alignment was upon them, and with it, the promise—or threat—of a message from Inti.

The alignment, a rare astronomical event where the sun perfectly aligned with the 13 towers of Chankillo, was the most sacred moment in their culture. During this time, it was said that the Sun God’s voice could be heard most clearly, and the fate of the people could be divined. The tribes had gathered, each with their own hopes, fears, and hidden agendas. The Colla and Chachapoya had arrived with warriors in tow, their presence a silent but unmistakable threat. They sought not peace, but opportunity.

Coya, dressed in the shimmering gold robes of the Sun Priestess, stood at the edge of the great plateau, her eyes scanning the horizon where the towers loomed. The alignment was only days away, and already, the tension among the tribes had reached a breaking point. Whispers of betrayal and war filled the air like smoke, choking the peace she had so desperately tried to protect. Yet, she couldn’t abandon her hope—not when everything rested on this moment.


Preparation for the Alignment

The temple was alive with activity as Coya entered, the cool stone walls offering little respite from the oppressive heat outside. The elders had gathered, their faces lined with concern as they debated the growing unrest among the tribes. The sacred fires burned low, casting flickering shadows across the room as the voices of the council rose and fell in sharp whispers.

Sun Priestess,” Elder Pachacutec began, his voice grave, “the tribes are preparing for battle. The Colla have already begun arming their warriors. The Chachapoya will not be far behind.”

Coya felt the familiar pang of fear rise in her chest, but she held it at bay, her hands resting lightly on the edge of the stone altar. “The alignment is days away,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “We must not let the vision of war cloud our path. The gods will speak, and we must be ready to listen.”

Pachacutec’s gaze hardened. “The gods have been silent. And the people are afraid. They look to you for guidance, but all they see is famine, drought, and death. If the Sun God does not bring a sign during the alignment, I fear that no words, no prayers will hold them back from war.”

Coya met his eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on her like a stone. She had felt the same doubt creeping into her own heart—the fear that the gods had abandoned them, that her visions had led them to this brink. But she couldn’t allow herself to falter. Not now.

“The alignment is our chance,” she insisted. “I have seen it. The sun will speak, and when it does, we must be ready to act as one—under one sun.”

The elders exchanged uneasy glances, but there was little comfort in their silence. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with the unspoken fears of men who had lived long enough to know that hope was often a fragile thing.


The Tribes Gather

Outside, the Colla and Chachapoya tribes had begun to arrive at the foot of the towers. Their warriors, tall and proud, stood in silent ranks, their spears glinting in the harsh sunlight. The air was thick with anticipation, but it wasn’t the sacred kind—the air buzzed with the hum of tension, of men preparing for war rather than prayer.

Coya walked through the encampments, her golden robes flowing behind her, the golden threads shimmering in the sunlight like the very rays of the Sun God himself. She could feel the eyes of the warriors on her as she passed, their gazes sharp with suspicion and unspoken judgment. To them, she was a symbol—not of peace, but of weakness.

Her steps brought her to the Chachapoya encampment, where the tribal leader, Huari, stood at the center of his warriors, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon as though preparing for battle even before the sun had aligned.

Sun Priestess,” Huari greeted her, his voice cool and calculated. “You honor us with your presence.”

Coya nodded, though the knot in her stomach tightened at the sight of the armed warriors surrounding him. “I come not for honor, but for unity,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her position. “The Great Solar Alignment is upon us. The gods will speak, and we must be prepared to listen—to find peace, not war.”

Huari smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Peace is a delicate thing, Sun Priestess. And it is often won through strength, not words. The Colla will not wait for the gods to give them what they desire.”

Coya felt a surge of frustration rise within her, but she kept her voice calm. “Strength comes not from the blade, but from the spirit. If we fight now, we will lose everything.”

Huari studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You may be right,” he said quietly, “but even the strongest spirit must be prepared to defend itself.”

As Coya walked away from the camp, her mind raced. She could feel the rift between the tribes growing wider, as though the very land beneath their feet was cracking open, preparing to swallow them whole. The alignment was their last chance—the only hope they had to prevent the prophecy of war from becoming a reality. But how could she make them see that?


The Tension Peaks

The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the encampments as the day drew to a close. Tupac stood on the edge of the gathering, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the warriors of the Colla and Chachapoya prepare for what he knew was inevitable. His face was set in a hard, determined expression, his body tense with the coiled energy of a man ready for battle.

Coya approached him cautiously, her heart heavy with the weight of their growing divide. Her brother, once her greatest ally, now seemed like a stranger—his desire for strength, for war, blinding him to the vision of peace she held so tightly.

“Tupac,” she said softly, standing beside him, her eyes searching his face. “We don’t have to do this. The alignment will give us the sign we need. The gods will speak.”

Tupac didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “The gods have been silent for too long,” he said, his voice cold and distant. “It’s time we took matters into our own hands.”

Coya felt a surge of pain twist in her chest. “War won’t save us, Tupac. It will destroy us.”

For a moment, there was silence between them, the tension hanging in the air like the heat of the day. Finally, Tupac turned to face her, his eyes dark with anger and frustration. “You still don’t understand, do you? The Colla aren’t here to pray, Coya. They’re here to take. And if we don’t stop them, they will.”

Coya’s heart ached as she looked into her brother’s eyes, seeing not the man she had grown up with, but a warrior—hardened, distant, consumed by the need to protect their people through force. “I have seen the future, Tupac,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “If we fight, we will lose everything. The sun will turn black, and the blood of our people will stain the earth. This is not what the gods want.”

Tupac shook his head, his jaw clenched. “And what if you’re wrong, Coya? What if your visions are just dreams?”

“I can’t be wrong,” Coya said, her voice barely audible. “I can’t.”


Internal Conflict

That night, Coya stood at the foot of the 13 towers, the moon casting a pale glow over the ancient stones. The Great Solar Alignment was only two days away, but already, the weight of its significance pressed down on her like a heavy cloak. The words from her vision echoed in her mind—“Only under one sun will the earth be saved.” But what did it mean?

She closed her eyes, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she whispered a quiet prayer to Inti, seeking clarity, seeking guidance. The wind whispered through the towers, but no answer came. Her mind raced with questions, with doubts. How could she unite the tribes when even her own brother refused to listen? How could she stop the war that seemed inevitable?

As she stood there, alone beneath the stars, a single tear slipped down her cheek, a silent testament to the burden she carried. The sun, once her greatest ally, now felt like a distant memory, its light slipping further away with each passing moment. And yet, somewhere deep inside her, there was still a spark of hope—a tiny flame that refused to die.


Coya turned her gaze to the distant horizon, where the sun would rise once again. The alignment was coming, and with it, the answer she had been seeking. The future hung in the balance, and Coya knew that when the sun rose, it would bring with it the final test—a test of faith, of strength, and of unity. And in that moment, she vowed to stand her ground, no matter what the gods had in store.


The Eclipse

The day of the Great Solar Alignment had finally arrived, yet there was no peace in the hearts of the people. The air was thick with anticipation, but it was laced with tension, not reverence. Coya could feel it everywhere—the tribes, once gathered to honor the gods and seek divine guidance, now stood ready for war, their weapons gleaming under the harsh rays of the midday sun.

The towers of Chankillo loomed overhead, their shadows long and foreboding. Coya, dressed in her ceremonial robes, stood at the altar with the elders, the weight of her responsibility pressing down on her like the very stones that made up the ancient towers. The shimmering gold threads of her robes caught the sunlight, reflecting the brilliance of the Sun God she served, yet inside her, there was only dread.

The alignment was imminent. The sun would soon reach its zenith, aligning perfectly with the 13 towers in a celestial event that occurred only once in a generation. For the tribes, this was a time of divine communion, a moment where the Sun God’s will would be revealed. But today, as the tribes gathered in strained silence, the alignment had taken on a darker significance.

“Coya,” whispered Elder Quilla, standing beside her, her aged face etched with concern. “The people are restless. Many fear what the gods will show today.”

Coya’s heart ached as she gazed out across the gathering. The warriors of the Colla and Chachapoya stood at the edges of the crowd, their spears raised in silent readiness. They had come not to witness a divine revelation, but to seize power. The drought had drained the land of its strength, and now the tribal leaders were ready to act, each one waiting for the slightest sign to strike.

And then there was Tupac, her brother, standing among his own warriors, his face hard and unreadable. He had prepared them for battle, despite her pleas, despite her visions. He believed in strength—his strength—to protect their people. But Coya had seen a different future. She had seen the sun swallowed by darkness, the land drenched in blood, her people lost to the violence of war.

Her gaze moved to the horizon, where the sun had begun its slow climb toward its fateful alignment with the towers. She felt the familiar tremor of fear rise within her, but she pushed it down. This was the moment everything had been leading to. The gods would speak, and she had to be ready to hear their message. Yet deep down, Coya feared that the only message they would receive today was one of destruction.


The Alignment Begins

The ceremonial drums began to beat, their deep, rhythmic sound echoing across the plateau. The elders moved into position, chanting the ancient prayers in unison, their voices rising with the growing intensity of the moment. The sun’s light grew stronger, its rays casting a golden hue over the towers as it climbed higher into the sky.

Coya stepped forward, her hands trembling as she raised them to the heavens, her voice joining the chorus of the elders. “Inti, great lord of the sun, hear our prayers. Guide us in this time of darkness. Show us the path to peace.”

The people, gathered in a semicircle around the altar, watched in silence. Their faces were lined with both fear and hope, their eyes filled with desperation. The drought had taken so much from them already—crops, water, lives. And now, their future hung in the balance.

As the sun inched closer to its perfect alignment with the towers, the air seemed to grow heavier, thicker with a kind of cosmic tension that Coya could feel in every breath. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to fall into the rhythm of the chants, the familiar words washing over her like a soothing balm. The vision was clear in her mind: Only under one sun will the earth be saved.

But what did it mean?


The Eclipse Unfolds

Just as the final tower was illuminated by the sun’s rays, a sudden chill swept through the air, making Coya’s heart skip a beat. The chanting faltered, the elders exchanging uncertain glances as the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of something ominous. Coya’s eyes shot to the sky, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

The sun—once brilliant and golden—was slowly being swallowed by shadow.

Gasps erupted from the crowd as the sky darkened, the sun’s light dimming as an eclipse began to unfold. The golden rays that had bathed the towers in warmth were now retreating, replaced by an eerie twilight that sent a shiver through the gathering. The people shifted uneasily, their murmurs growing louder as panic set in.

“What is happening?” one of the elders whispered, her voice trembling. “This was not foretold.”

Coya’s breath caught in her throat as she stared at the eclipsing sun, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it—this was the vision she had seen. The sun was turning away from them, just as the gods had warned. The prophecy was coming true.

“This is a sign,” Elder Pachacutec said, his voice strained as he addressed the crowd. “The Sun God is angry. We must prepare for war!”

The words sent a ripple of fear through the gathered tribes. The warriors tensed, their hands gripping their spears more tightly, their eyes darting toward the leaders of the other tribes. The fragile peace that had held them together was crumbling, and all it would take was one spark to ignite the flames of war.

Coya felt the ground sway beneath her, the weight of the moment crashing down on her with terrifying clarity. She had to stop this. She had to save them from the war that was about to erupt.

No!” she cried, stepping forward, her voice rising above the mounting panic. “This is not a sign of war. The gods are not angry. They are calling us to unite, to come together as one under the sun.”

But her words were lost in the growing chaos. The people, gripped by fear, began to shout, their voices clashing in confusion. The tribal leaders stepped forward, their eyes hard with resolve. The Colla chief, his face twisted with rage, pointed his spear toward the Chachapoya camp.

“The Sun God has spoken,” he growled. “This eclipse is a curse! We must strike now, before the gods punish us further.”

The Chachapoya leader stepped forward, his warriors at the ready. “We will not be the first to strike,” he warned, his voice cold. “But we will defend ourselves.”

The tension reached its breaking point. Coya’s heart raced as she watched the scene unfold before her—warriors on the brink, their hands clutching their weapons, their faces filled with the certainty of battle. She had seen this moment in her vision. If they struck now, it would lead to bloodshed, to destruction. Everything would be lost.


Coya’s Revelation

In the midst of the chaos, Coya felt a strange calm wash over her, a sudden clarity that made her heart beat with fierce determination. The phrase from her vision—“Only under one sun will the earth be saved”—echoed in her mind, and for the first time, its meaning became clear.

It wasn’t about the sun itself. It was about unity—about the tribes coming together as one people, not divided by their differences, but united under the same light. The one sun was not a literal sun, but a symbol of what they could become if they set aside their pride, their thirst for power, and embraced each other as brothers and sisters.

Coya stepped forward, her voice clear and steady as she addressed the crowd. “The Sun God is not cursing us,” she said, her words cutting through the panic like a blade of light through the dark. “This eclipse is not a punishment—it is a warning. We have been fighting each other for too long. The drought, the famine—it is not the gods who are angry. It is us. We are the ones tearing our world apart.”

The people turned to her, their eyes wide with uncertainty, but there was something in Coya’s voice—something undeniable, irresistible.

“We must stop this,” she continued, her voice growing stronger with every word. “We must unite under one sun—as one tribe, one people. Only then can we save our land. Only then will the Sun God return his light to us.”

The crowd was silent, their fear replaced by something else—hope. It flickered in their eyes like the last embers of a dying fire, but it was there, fragile and precious.

“Please,” Coya said, her gaze sweeping over the leaders, the warriors, her brother. “Do not fight. Unite with me, and together we can restore balance to our world.”


Tupac stood at the edge of the crowd, his face a mask of uncertainty as he watched his sister speak. For a moment, he hesitated, the spear in his hand feeling heavier than ever. He had always believed that strength came from battle, from domination. But now, seeing the determination in Coya’s eyes, hearing the conviction in her voice, he felt something shift deep inside him.

Slowly, he lowered his spear.

The gesture was small, almost imperceptible, but it was enough. One by one, the warriors began to lower their weapons, their faces softening as the tension eased. The sun, still hidden behind the eclipse, seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for the moment when the tribes would choose peace.


Coya stood tall, her heart swelling with relief as she watched the warriors step back from the brink. The sun had darkened, but the light of hope still remained. They had chosen unity, and in doing so, they had chosen life.


As the sun hung in the sky, shrouded in darkness, the tribes had stood on the brink of war. Yet, through the courage and unwavering faith of Coya, the Sun Priestess, a new path was forged—a path of unity, of peace, of hope. But as the eclipse fades and the Great Solar Alignment comes to a close, the true test has only just begun. Can the fragile alliance hold, or will old wounds and hidden betrayals unravel all that Coya has fought for?

In the next chapter of this epic tale, we will journey deeper into the mysteries of Chankillo and witness the final reckoning between the tribes, the gods, and Coya’s own heart. The sun has returned, but its light brings with it new revelations, unexpected dangers, and a destiny far greater than Coya ever imagined.

Stay with us on this thrilling journey! Don’t miss Part III: The Dawn of the United Sun, coming soon on the SatinLovers’ website. The secrets of the gods are about to be revealed, and the fate of all the tribes hangs in the balance. 🌞✨


This story was written in deep appreciation of the SatinLovers’ Organization of the Month, the World Monuments Fund. Their tireless efforts in preserving and protecting the rich cultural heritage of sites like Chankillo in Peru, as well as countless others around the world, serve as an inspiration for this tale. Through their work, they safeguard not only the physical remnants of ancient civilizations but also the stories, wisdom, and spirit of these sacred places, ensuring that future generations can continue to connect with the history of humanity.

To learn more about the World Monuments Fund and their incredible projects, visit their website and discover how they are preserving the wonders of our past to shape a better future.


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