Amaru Studios - The Artwork of George Amaru

Once upon a time (a time long forgotten by the new generations, except for some sage men that remember it with dread), the most horrible drought took place: Heavens closed themselves, and the implacable Sun killed every plant over the Earth, turning the once pleasant land into an inferno. Not even the lichens or the moss survived the scorching heat and every animal, including Man and his sons, suffered greatly for this. Crying their despair out, they lifted their hand to the sky and begged for help to the Gods that created them: the Storm Gods, who brought Rain and protected the rivers, the Earth Gods, who gave its shape to the Land, and even to the Great Wiracocha, Creator of all Things. But they all seemed to be asleep, for no consoling rain came to them.

Everyday, biting winds lashed their flesh, and the terrible thirst that tortured them and killed the infants was driving more and more people crazy. Until a priest, guided by a strange dream and accompanied by the remaining members of his tribe, took his steps out of their territory for looking for a place to perform the (apparently useless) Supplication rituals, and finally kneeled down to pray in front of the last living plant: the Gantu flower, that flourishes in the aridity but now seemed to be about to die. Only a last bud remained green, resisting the Sun’s deadly rays and surrounded by an aura of freshness that astonished the presents. Folding their hands together, they all begged to their Gods for salvation and the sight of that last bit of life was encouraging enough to continue imploring.
But then, the unspeakable happened: the bud opened, and its petals fell to the ground, much alike a dead body that falls right after letting the soul go. The desperate men screamed, thinking of that as their death sentence, the last bitter joke of Destiny. But two of the petals that were still stuck to the bud started to flap like wings, and soon the thing turned into a hummingbird of bright colors that flew away. The people looked at the beautiful bird disappear in the blue sky, and while puzzlement was written over their faces, a little hope grew in their hearts: maybe their prayers were being listened at last.

The magical creature flew over the parched land, and the dried river-beds: his black eyes saw all the pain below him, and kept it in his heart for sharing it with the deities. With speed similar to lighting, he covered the distance between the dead valley and the Mountains, the place where the Gods lived. Exhausted for his flight, he fell over the greatest mountain and with its last breath he implored mercy to the Father Waitapallana, God of the Mountain: his last scream spoke about the creatures and Man, their thirst and great torment. Soon after that, the hummingbird died.
And at last, the God Waitapallana woke up from his long dream, only to find the most terrible scene before his eyes: death everywhere, corpses and bones pilled together in large piles, and the Land turned into a desert. The screams of every man resounded in his ears, and the pain contained in the bird’s last scream filled his heart: the great God started to cry…

His tears run down the mountain like rocks, disappearing in the bottom except for a single one, which formed a big lake by his side. The water wouldn’t stay calm, though: rippling without control, no one would have guessed what was about to happen.
Suddenly, some sort of creature broke the water’s surface and flew away, shining like the morning star. Son of the Mountain God’s tears, the World’s eyes were fixed on his long and delicate serpentine form: the powerful Amaru was born, the great winged serpent with a llama head and a fish’s tail, with crystalline eyes and a red muzzle.

The great Serpent floated over the devastated land, and proceeded to accomplish his Creator’s will: his muzzle opened and a dense fog covered the entire region, moistening every part of the valley and bringing new life to the seemingly dead vegetation; the rain fell from its feathered wings, and hail from his fish-like tail. The beautiful gleam of his scales formed the Rainbow.

Soon, the other deities woke up from their long stone dream, and the Gods in charge of the Storms made the skies pour the rain they neglected to the thirsty creatures. The Gods of Land joined their efforts with their Brothers´ ones, and they tried to fix the Land and cure it from the great harm the drought did. And Man once more danced and laughed, adoring his Gods and thanking Father Waitapallana and the strange creature that saved them all.