Page 73 of The Lost Guardian

A rectangle with curves pouring from its top.

And a few lines, alternating between vertical and horizontal in orientation.

“I guess these are the wakas we’re meant to follow,” Santiago said, shifting his position so that Ali and José could see them more clearly. She squinted, pursing her lips as she examined them closer.

The symbols in the first image, the lines and circles, were arranged in an arc.

“Something to do with the moon?” Ali said. It did look a little like a crescent formation.

“Maybe it’s an image that’s carved into a rock or something somewhere,” Santiago said, fishing out his notebook from his pack and drawing furiously.

He had decided that, for now, it was all right not to understand the science behind the sacrificial stone. He knew there was science, and that’s what mattered.

Too bad what they say about meeting your heroes, he thought glumly. The sparkle persisted in José’s eye, ever since the older man had first uttered the word “magic.” Santi scolded himself for being judgmental.

“Whatever it is, when we find it, we need to turn right.” José pointed. The path indeed took a sharp right.

“The second one looks like a tree with hanging branches,” he added. Santiago agreed. At that marker, the path turned left. He drew a crude map, adding the symbols.

“Stairs?” Ali asked. The third image seemed straightforward, maybe because humans have been constructing steps since antiquity. Santiago penciled them in.

“I guess we climb.” Santiago nodded.

Great, more altitude.

“It looks like they lead to…” Ali’s voice trailed off as her gaze lingered on the final pictograph, larger and set apart from the three wakas.

If Santiago had to guess, it was their destination.

“You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?” Santi asked them.

Both Ali and José nodded.

Their path ended at a cave.

The etching of the cave was brighter than the rest of the markings. Almost like it was…glowing? Tentatively, Santiago pressed a finger to it.

The result was instantaneous. A buzzing, crackling light—like electricity—sparked from the image, shooting past them into the open air. It dissipated as it passed between two towering pillars of rock. They lit up at the contact.

Like, literally glowed.

Santiago’s breath caught in his throat. Ali’s lips fell open. An enormous grin split the professor’s face.

“The path to Atahualpa!” He jumped up. “Revealed by your blood. By your legacy. What a wondrous thing. Thank you for allowing me to join your search.” He removed his hat to run a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “It is an honor to witness the magic of the Guardianes.”

“Not magic,” Santiago hissed, his pulse pounding in his ears. It couldn’t be magic. “The path was revealed by blood but not magic blood. Like I said, it’s probably a mineral thing.” If his voice was less than steady, no one commented on it.

He looked at the glowing pillars. Not glowing. Reflecting. The Inca were masters of light.

“Then we should test it!” José answered. With a flourish, he retrieved a pocketknife from his jacket.

“Test what?” Ali asked, looking down at the blade. “What are you doing?”

“Santiago Rios is clearly a man of science, and that is to be commended,” the professor said. “And science requires testing of hypotheses, yes?”

“You don’t think your blood will follow the same path?” Ali perked up.

“This is silly; no one else needs to bleed,” Santiago argued.