He tossed a piece of dried coconut to the mongrel outside and watched it tear into the flesh with its rotten yellow incisors—like the curve of the moon. The sun was being pulled by the God of the Sun by now, and the sky was darkening with a washed out blue, reminding the man of tea. Libum steered his direction towards the baths. One of Kolupati’s guides, with its black, swollen shiny eyes, floated above him. 

More than one pair of eyes on him tonight.

“What about dinner!” it said, matching the playful lilt of Kolupati’s voice. “You don’t want me to go to bed hungry, anuk.”

“Leftovers and rice,” he grunted. “You’ll have to make do, Lady.” Libum flicked the bird away with his pinky. It chittered, a strange irritating sound, as it flew back to its master.

The main work temple, though dimmed, still had yellow light shining out through the windows and brightening the veranda. He jerked his head upwards at the male Anito resting on the desk and took the black key from him. “Please lock up after you’re done!” the man shouted after him. “We keep stock of everything!” 

You’d have to be desperate to steal from the land of lost souls, Libum thought humorously, pushing the key into the lock. His mind wandered, thinking of the punishment for being caught. However, he knew too well that a desperate person would still cling to a knife, regardless of what it was. Who was he to judge if they stole some clothing or a lathering plant?

He pushed the door open and took one of the cards, as thin as a bamboo slat, about the width of his fingernail, and inserted it into the hot water tank. Hot steam rose from the water and clouded Libum’s vision. His hands wrapped around the necklace. Fingering the small trinket between his first two fingers.

Libum stood over the basin, an enlarged tub that reminded him of a black soup bowl. He watched as the hot water poured in from the spigot and caused the herbs and dried ylang flowers to bloom, the steam hot as it rapidly approached his skin. The floral scent entered his nostrils almost immediately. He took a deep breath, already feeling the effects of the medicine on his body and mind. Calm. The world and its problems melted away. He ripped his clothes off, grabbed the vial he’d stolen from Mutya, and poured it straight into the hot water. 

The water shimmered, turning the color of jade.

He moaned upon stepping in, as the rejuvenating water caressed his skin. His ankles were covered and he sat down, throwing his head back. The candlelight illuminated the room just barely, but he was used to the dark.

I can try and take your scars away, if you join me. The moon is known for its healing properties, is it not? 

Libum dipped his face into the water, the vial he’d stolen from Mutya prickling his skin as if tiny needles were poking into the pores. He simmered in the hot water for what felt like an eternity, until the sound of the door sliding open caused him to lift his head up from the water in a blind confusion. No one would be able to come here. He was the only one allowed in at this hour due to his rank.

“Oh—” a voice said. “Hi?”

“What the hell are you doing?” Libum’s eyes adjusted in the dark and a figure loomed in the doorway. “Get out!”

“Sorry!” The soul apologized, shielding their face. “I thought it was communal. I’m going now!” Without another word, the soul slammed the door shut and Libum heard their footsteps scurrying down the hall.

The only thing that plagued his mind was where he had heard that voice before.

Libum pressed his hand against his cheek and still felt the scarred skin, letting his disappointment out with a loud sigh. Maybe if he had endured the hot water for a few more minutes, uninterrupted, his skin would have gone back to normal. Water could wash away the sins carried on his own face just as easily as taking a bath. He dunked his head once more and held his breath. 

Libum woke, not knowing what time it was or if the other soul was still bathing.

Taking advantage of the peace and quiet, Libum was deliberate. He forced his fingers through his thick hair and dried himself with a fluffy white towel, wrapping it around his waist as he walked out into the main spiritual hall. The cool metal of the necklace snaked around his neck. Kolupati’s statue coming into view, with such a raw expression, caused Libum to cover his body from her forlorn gaze. The usual array of offerings had been cleaned up, presumably by the male Anito from earlier.

Libum sat at the bottom of the statue, his eyes falling over a shadow coming from the opposite end of the hall. Tikba sauntered in, dressed in thin, silk white undergarments and a dark tapis. 

“Kolupati ask you to come?” 

“I woke up after a few hours because of that smelly oil,” they explained, adjusting their clothing so that the sleeves rolled up. “I went to look for you, but Kolupati said you were here. She told me I should probably take a bath, she said I might enjoy the view.” Tikba shook their head, black hair falling back and forth and smiled. “See? Hair’s finally dry.” Red tears dripped from their empty eye sockets. “I am sorry about bursting in.” 

Tikba now sported a badge, an exact replica of Libum’s. Tikba was the same rank as him. The sight of it left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he only gestured for the other to hurry, locking up the spiritual hall behind the two of them. With all of his work to become a part of the Tagkawal, the soul in front of him had jumped straight ahead without having to prove themself. It would make anyone resentful.

“Where are you sleeping?” the man asked after a moment when he realized Tikba was following him. 

“Kolupati said I could sleep in the Spirit House with you. We could share a bed, if you want.” Tikba went back to being a shameless person, the genuineness from before long gone. “I’ve never seen a person with hair like yours.” They took notice of Libum’s necklace and Libum pulled away. He hid it between the folds of fabric. "It's like moonlight."

“The bedrooms are empty. But if you don’t like those, you have options. There’s plenty of hammocks,” said Libum. “Or you could crawl into the pit of vipers—Kolupati’s bed,” he explained, “and hope to come out in one piece.”

“Is that why—” Tikba motioned to the marks on his neck, and Libum glowered at him. They grinned and said, “Did you give up something more useful than your heart? She doesn't look like the type to be...rough.”

“No.”

“Sorry. Bad joke—I know, but I just wanted to see if you were available.”

“What for? It's late.” Libum stared blankly at him.

Tikba winced at his obvious displeasure as the two stood before Kolupati’s Spirit House. The second story attachment was where Kolupati’s bedroom was. The thatched nipa grass roof looked ready to collapse, as if it had long been abandoned. Libum walked up the cherry-red stairs and climbed the ladder, looking to Tikba before they caught on. The soul nearly tripped up the stairs before catching themself on the bottom of the ladder.

Libum searched the house and pulled out an extra banig mat, two sewn together scraps of cloth that encompassed a padded cotton mat, before he tossed it to Tikba, the soul catching it with ease. “Find an empty room to occupy.” 

With that, he turned on his heel and pulled the door shut behind him. On his mat, a note from the Moon lay. I'd love to see you so we can discuss the matter. Before he slept, he opened the window to let some of the hot air from outside in, and whispered a quick prayer for his mother and father before finding comfort in his mat, closing his eyes, and drifting. He tossed the note into the corner, where others were thrown about.

The night was often unrelenting. Without fail, Libum’s eyes snapped open a handful of times during his fretful sleep, the intruding smell of smoke accompanying his dreams. He rolled the pearl between his two fingers continuously, until he fell back asleep.