The sky of the Village was still shadowed by dark blue clouds, the moon a perfect slit chewing through the fog. Libum escaped the Spirit House early, before the Death God woke and while the moon was still out. He wondered if that useless Anuk Buwan could see him from here—or if he spent the majority of his precious time alive harassing those in need. One of his letters was still buried somewhere at the bottom of his work bag. 

The man, still forcing himself to remain alert, carried a bag of goods he managed to pilfer from Kolupati’s stocks in hand. It was mostly food and snacks that she’d traded her money for. 

Most of the bulawani had been used up for exotic liquor from all over the islands and beyond, which was inappropriate for where he was heading. Waves of guilt washed over him as he remembered Kolupati's comment the day previous. He hadn't been to see the children in quite some time. More occupied with collecting his souls, he hardly spent as much time as he used to with them. As of late, whenever he encountered an Inapo, he'd send them on their way and move on.

Before the human was designated as a Lord, and the leader of the Tagkawal, he’d been tasked with watching the Inapo children. Those who carried a cursed bloodline due to the Tagkawal members. Silat was in charge of keeping track of each Inapo he came across and their corresponding curse, but since these types apparently swarmed to Libum when he was out working, he was the one to keep tabs for Silat. 

He didn’t mind too much, though. The Tagkawal treated them more like unwanted pets than dead kids who suffered from generational curses they couldn’t remember. He'd rather take over the job himself than let anyone else do it. Screw being a babysitter, he'd happily take that role than just let the children be at the whim of their less-than parents.

A recently deceased Inapo—a young girl struck with amnesia— had a particularly nasty curse, ending her life after a few years of being found. Libum dubbed it the Silence Curse. He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but an inkling told him the curse was Hukla’s doing due to its particular cruelty. 

The man removed something from his bag, still moving steadily, while he studied the archives and took notes. As he kept his head down, he took notes of each child he passed, and the progression of their curse. Ever since he'd asked Kolupati to build more recreational buildings, especially ones for self-defense, there were fewer incidents of a child becoming multo. As long as they had something to occupy their minds and bodies with, they didn't need to dwell on the life they used to have.

Each Inapo child, all differing in ages, ran up to the human and began pulling at whatever they could reach. They poked at his eyes. Tugged at his snow white hair, his fingers, one even clung to his leg and laughed when he took a step and his foot carried the little boy into the air. 

“Kuya! Why don't you spend the night anymore!”

“Because you climb on me while I’m trying to sleep and pluck my white hairs," Libum said. "I'm not going to pay you if I end up bald.”

The young girl sat back and watched the group haggle him. Libum shook off the children and rummaged in the bag around his back, his hand closing around a crinkled wrapper. He took it and approached the girl calmly, holding out the candy for her to take. 

“Try this,” he said. “It’s good.”

Libum avoided her eyes, hating the way she looked up at him. Her eyes swelled up with tears at this small act of kindness, Libum shrugged and dropped it into her hand.

Dropping the chocolate proved to be a mistake. It bounced from the girl’s palm and onto the veranda underneath her. In her surprise, the girl’s head fell off and twitched as it laid next to her. She awkwardly gripped the wire and used her opposite hand to tug at it and bring her head back to her body. She blushed, and threw her eyes to the ground, trying to mumble out an apology. Libum, already uncomfortable, waved his hand rapidly. 

“You don’t have to talk,” he said, unable to hide the urgency in his voice. His stomach churned at the sight of her emaciated body coming apart. “Just try it. You might like it.”

The little girl hesitantly used the sharp wire surrounding her body to slice open the wrapper,  exposing a square of honey-chocolate. Her mouth opened and she shoved the candy onto her tongue, biting down. Her smile only widened as honey oozed from the corner of her mouth and she wiped at it with her fingers.

“Thank…Thank you, Kuya.” The little girl flinched, and the wire wrapped itself tighter around her body. If she still had the ability to bleed, there would have been blood budding from her hands and neck. Libum sighed, and turned his attention to the other children, passing out more chocolate.

“Have your memories returned yet?” he asked, putting up a hand when the girl opened her mouth to talk again.

She shook her head.

In the distance, Libum heard the fluttering of wings coming down from the trees, and he took it as his warning to go back to the Spirit House before Kolupati woke up. He waved a quick goodbye to the children and snuck back into his room before he eventually fell asleep once more.

In the later hours of the day, a voice called for him.

“Ah…bosing?”

Whoever that was, Libum couldn’t bother. He only thought, Who the hell called him ‘bosing’, anyway? His eyes opened again as quick, rapid knocks came from his door. He’d practically tried to strangle Kolupati when she attempted to wake him a few years ago, so she knew better. No one entered his room. It was the only solace he’d ever had. Shoving a pillow over his head, he ignored and willed for whoever was opposite the door to go far away.

“Bos-ing!”

Libum lifted himself off the floor in a blur and yanked open the door, glaring daggers at whoever decided to disturb his sleeping. “Who said you could wake me up?” he hissed. The soul in front of him held a more concrete form, and it took a few moments for the haze to clear and memories from the day before entered his mind. The new recruit Kolupati threw at him, even though Libum wanted to work alone, leaned against the doorframe with a smile.

“Kolupati asked me to.” The soul took one step and lingered in the doorway. “Allow me to introduce myself, now that I have a Title. My name is Tikba, and I’m around twenty-eight years old, I think. It’ll be a pleasure working with you, Li-bosing.”

“I don’t work this early.” Libum muttered, ignoring the nickname, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes. “Come back when I’m actually awake.”

“How do the spirits just sleep all the time? I haven’t felt an ounce of drowsiness since coming here. Though, I'm struck by how gorgeous the moon is, and I'm mourning its loss already. I don't think I saw it that much when I was alive.” 

I’m human, still, Libum wanted to say. I run on three hours of sleep a week, if I'm lucky, so I take it when I can. The dead don’t need to sleep, and Kolupati only does it because she’s lazy. Instead, he answered, “I like to sleep. Bye.” He slammed the door behind him and plopped down onto the mat, stretching out his sore limbs. Libum started to nod off, before a low rumble from his stomach forced him to get up and deal with it.

Tikba was propped and sitting against the wall next to Libum’s door. He looked at Tikba, pondering if he should ask how long the soul had been sitting there, before he said, “We’ll start work after I eat. The only good thing about having a partner is it lessens the burden of the portal.” It had been a few weeks since he last had a partner to work with, and now once again, he was stuck in a cycle of teaching until they understood the basics. He danced around the subject of his next partner, and now he couldn’t anymore.

It would be best to jump into things as quickly as possible, he reasoned. 

“Portal?” asked Tikba, standing up and facing Libum. “Like a magic portal?”

“You’re working for a God.” Libum pressed his hand against Tikba’s chest, recalling the ‘locked’ feeling he got when he tried to view Tikba’s life, and shoved them backwards. “Keep your questions to a minimum. You’ll understand it eventually. Or you’ll just move on. There’s no point in teaching you, but I have to.” Tikba pouted, a horrific sight since they didn’t have eyes. “Don’t do that.”

He hurried to the kitchen, the soul waddling behind him like a lost duck, as he pulled out two meat-filled wheat flour buns. As they heated up, Libum handed one to Tikba across the counter.

“Thanks,” they said, sniffing at the bun. “It's a relief that things are still edible to the dead. Offerings don't feel so wasteful since ghosts get to enjoy it, too. Does the food still taste just as good here?”

The man shrugged, not able to think of a response. He wasn’t the best person to ask. His sense of taste was muted, and he had a limited range of food that he enjoyed in the realm since he wasn’t a soul. Tikba brought it to their mouth and took a bite, meat spilling out at the bottom of the bun.

Unfortunately, Libum didn’t smell the pork until he took a bite of his own and the meat filled his mouth. His eyes watered, and he had to breathe in through his nose to avoid purging the food in his mouth. He spit the food out discreetly into the trash and tried to ignore the ringing in his ears, grabbing his cup of kape and swishing out the taste. Tikba looked unbothered, tearing off pieces of the fluffy white bun with their fingers and dropping them into their waiting mouth. 

As they chewed, they asked, a little too excitedly, “You’re going to teach me about portals now, right?”

Tikba’s table manners oddly reminded him of those other gods he’d briefly met. Ones who had ascended to Godhood during times of royalty, ones in texts he read as a child. They had a certain posture and politeness that Libum never wanted to learn, one he couldn’t replicate even if he tried. The soul acted like a young noble who wanted to please everyone. The kape buzzed inside his veins, bringing the man back to life. The question of what kind of memories would return to someone like Tikba came to the forefront of his mind.

Clearing his throat, he explained, “Everyone who becomes an Anito is gifted the ability to open portals. They can open anywhere in the human realm, and are used in order to travel and locate misguided souls. We can open a portal anywhere as long as we know the name of the location. It’s simple when you get the hang of it, but it leaves you feeling like you have the world’s worst hangover.” Tikba lifted their eyebrows. “Yes. Even though you’re dead. As your superior, I suggest leaving here as soon as you start to remember.” 

Libum preferred the option of working alone, and found it more efficient that way, but the stress of opening too many portals on his own usually left him bedridden with a fever for a few days. The souls could take the brunt of it and they’d only feel like shit for a few hours, but he didn’t exactly have that luxury. Part of him hated how much he had to rely on the souls, but they were already dead. There was no shame in using the dead to his advantage.