Chapter 10: A Key Between Worlds

A dream… again?

Silay looked down at his hands. They were no longer the steady, practiced hands of a doctor but small, soft, and childlike. His chest felt heavy, but he didn’t cry.

Everything around him towered above: the trees, the grass, the world itself. He had never felt so small.

He was lost in a forest.

His tiny feet, smeared with mud and leaves, tried to follow a stable path back to the village; however nothing looked familiar. He couldn’t remember how he got here in the first place.

Then, a light and ethereal melody brushed his ears like a breeze.

Silay blinked and turned, drawn to the feathered voice even as his skin caught on hidden thorns and grasses. He pushed through the bush, and what he saw made his eyes widen in awe.

There, in a clearing, stood something or someone, like a fairy. Or something even older. They took the shape of women, glowing faintly as they sang in front of an ancient tree. Their hair danced with the wind, and the fallen leaves rose to spiral around them like they too were listening.

Just by hearing their voices, the scratches on Silay’s skin began to close. The turmoil in his mind cleared, like mist under sunlight.

The young boy gasped, and the melody vanished at once. The ethereal beings turned their heads sharply toward his direction, their forms vanishing like mist, only to reappear before him in a blink.

“Darahi, behold, a human child walks unbidden into our sacred ground,” one said, her voice like rustling leaves.

Darahi blinked, curious, and gently lifted the child by the back of his amethyst colored cloth as if he were a kitten. “He hath wandered far from his kin.”

Another stepped forward, examining him closely. “Nay… this one perceiveth us with clarity. Sight, sound, and soul—he seeth all. Ilaya, this child is not ordinary.”

The one called Ilaya, glowing with the hues of dawn, rested her hand over Silay’s small head. “Verily… a soul recently awakened. The calling hath stirred within. A Katalonan, newly born of the veil.”

Darahi tilted her head, a glowing question mark shimmering above her. “Was not the next one named already? The trees whispered of Saniha, the ailing daughter of Alaya. The mark had been drawn upon her.”

Darahi’s gaze shifted to a tree in bloom, glowing with spirit-light. “And lo… the forest says this is Saniha. The blessing remaineth with her.” 

Ilaya paused, cradling the boy properly in her arms, brows furrowing slightly. “But this child is not she.”

“Oh?” Darahi murmured, plucking a branch from the flowering tree, the same flowers Silay would someday see again. “Yet the forest doth not err. The spirits mark as they will.”

With a whisper, she tucked the branch behind the child’s ear like a clip. “Let us return him. The world of men must know of what hath been touched.”

At the village’s misted edge, the two spirits descended. They lay the child gently at the border, where trees thinned into pathways.

Silay stirred, eyes fluttering open. The fleeting glimpse of light, the shapes of wings and leaves, made his arms reach out toward them; however the spirits had already vanished. All that remained were falling petals, soft against his cheeks.

From the nearby dwelling, a ripple passed through the land.

Lakambini Tala, guide and leader of Luan, turned her head to the east.

Inside her hut, the current Katalonan, Alaya—mother to both Saniha and Silayan, paused mid-prayer, eyes widening.

“My son also bears the mark,” she whispered.

Both siblings… had been chosen.

‘Familiar names,’ Silay thought.

Ever since he had chosen the path of a Doctor, these dreams of unknown pasts had become recurring companions, once vague and formless, now vivid like a memory reborn. He assumed this olden dream would end soon. But the dreamscape did not shatter. Instead, time unfolded like a winding scroll.

From somewhere, Ilaya's voice echoed: “Our own child…?”

This time, Silay was no longer viewing through the eyes of his younger self. The boy had grown, now a youth nearing the cusp of adulthood. Silay watched him from afar, a spectator to a life seemingly once lived.

Perched upon a thick bough, the adolescent peered down at the two spirits below.

“Indeed,” he said, voice carrying a mellow confidence. “It is lonesome without a kindred soul.”

Darahi, gentle yet ever mirthful, tilted her head. “We wot not the hour nor season that such shall come to pass.”

Ilaya gestured, and the branches stirred like servants obeying their mistress. “The Heart of the Ancestral Tree shall deem when the Saliw Kalikas shall be born. Not before.”

Darahi smirked. “Mayhap thy kindred soul hath yet to awaken. And mayhap the child we bear shall be thine own fellow. Thus, thou must await.”

“Await?” the youth repeated, sliding down the branch with ease. “Yet what is waiting, when my years are fleeting? What is a human life to the ageless skies? I may reach Maka ere such a meeting comes.”

A hush blanketed the grove.

Ilaya stepped forward and took his hand gently, her tone laden with sorrow. “Silay…”

Darahi bowed low. “Forgive my idle jest, Silayan.”

But the boy laughed, a sound like spring breeze through old leaves.

“Think naught of it! That is but flesh. Should our souls be bound… even the rivers of time shan’t sunder us. If fate ordaineth it, we shall meet anew—again and again.”

Silay blinked awake, suddenly.

To his surprise, Suliyao was above him, wearing a distinctly puzzled expression. They stared at each other in mutual silence.

Suliyao was the first to move, hastily pulling his arm away from Silay’s grasp. “This is not what it looks like.”

The familiar voice echoed faintly in Silay’s mind again.

Taking a step back from the bed, Suliyao explained, “I was about to wake you up. You mentioned you had an early shift today, and we still need to travel. But then… you dragged me in your sleep.”

Silay didn’t respond right away. His memory flickered: he had fallen asleep almost immediately after entering the guest room. He hadn’t even managed to ask what happened after he collapsed.

But that moment had passed, and now, yet another awkward one had taken its place.

Clearing his throat, he muttered, “N-No worries.”

Suliyao diverted the tension with a change of topic. “Let’s have a light breakfast first before heading out.” He held up another set of comfortable wear. Stylish, yet casual.

Silay sat up, eyeing the outfit with mild amusement. “Besides being a shaman, are you also a tailor?”

[No. Just a hobby,] Suliyao signed. 

Silay tilted his head, wondering what that meant. He only understood the ‘no.’

Suliyao, “I am not a tailor. Also, I am an exorcist not a shaman.”

‘It’s the same thing doesn’t it?’ The other man concluded in his head.

After that short exchange, they both settled at the dining table and ate quietly.

As Silay chewed, he let his eyes wander, observing how the house now glowed under the soft early sunlight. It was easy to conclude that Suliyao lived alone, there were no signs of other people. No extra shoes by the door. No picture frames. No voices or footsteps echoing from other rooms.

He did everything by himself; housework, his job, everything.

Silay broke the silence. “Are you really an exorcist? A shaman?”

[Yes,] Suliyao replied.

Well… it’d be stupid not to believe him. Not after everything that happened last night.

Speaking of last night…

Silay glanced at Suliyao again. He had looked pale and sluggish the night before, but now he seemed fine—functional, even. Was it just the dim lighting yesterday?

Then Suliyao opened his mouth to take in a spoonful of fried rice, and Silay blinked.

He saw the man’s teeth. His tongue also.

A rare sight, for some reason.

Silay paused, staring at his own plate in disbelief. What the hell am I doing?

But curiosity got the best of him.

Silay glanced up again, watching the way Suliyao’s lips moved as he chewed. The slight flash of canines. The way his tongue briefly grazed the spoon, cleaning it before setting it down.

It was oddly captivating.

“Please,” Suliyao said flatly, without looking up, “stop staring.”

Silay flinched and immediately took a long sip of water, hoping to mask his embarrassment. But no, he couldn’t let that derail him. There was something he had to ask. Something that had been quietly bothering him.

He waited until the man finished his food and set the utensils down neatly before speaking.

“…May I ask you something?” Silay began carefully, tone gentler now. “It’s about your voice.”

Suliyao looked at him, unreadable.

“I noticed you only speak through some sort of unscientific trick,” Silay continued, hands loosely folded on the table. “But not out loud. Forgive me if this is intrusive, but… have you always been mute?”

There was a pause.

Suliyao signed slowly, [No.]

Silay nodded. He didn’t speak right away.

Then, after a breath, Suliyao added, his voice resonating directly in Silay’s mind again, “I used to be able to speak. But somehow… I can’t anymore.”

His tone was hushed, even in telepathy.

Silay didn’t press. Whatever happened wasn’t something Suliyao seemed ready to share.

Instead, Silay stood and gathered the plates. “I’ll take care of the dishes,” he offered, tone neutral but not cold.

Suliyao didn’t stop him.

* * *

Outside Suliyao’s house, the village lay under solitude so complete it felt intentional, like the land itself was holding its breath until Silay departed. The Doctor, already slipping his satchel over his shoulder, noticed the stark contrast from last night’s strange liveliness. While waiting for Suliyao to lock the wooden door, he asked:

“Where are the people? Your neighbors?”

Suliyao glanced at him first, as if gauging how much to say, then answered after typing in his phone, (This place stirs after dusk. The village breathes best when the sun begins to fall. In the morning, those without spiritual resonance can’t even sense its pulse, let alone its people.)

‘I’ll just pretend I understood that.’ Silay adjusted his glasses thoughtfully, gaze looking at the screen then to Suliyao’s eyes, “Then… are you the only human here?”

With a soft shake of the head, the younger man entered new words in his notes app.

(As of now there are spirits, engkantos, minor deities… and other exorcists from the Lipol bloodline who chose to remain. They rarely show themselves around me though.)

Silay hummed, eyes narrowing as he pointed ahead. “The path we used to enter, it’s gone.”

Before them, only wilderness remained: tall grass trembling in the breeze, trees holding their shadows tight. The anito pillars and capiz lanterns that lit their arrival had vanished like breath on glass.

Suliyao took Silay’s glasses gently, brushing his thumb against the lens as if cleaning it. A smear of blood, hidden in the motion. He returned them to Silay’s face.

The forest shifted.

Light bent. Trees unfurled differently. The path curled open beneath their feet like a secret remembering itself.

As they walked, Salingbobog trees lined the trail. Pale blossoms clung to their branches and drifted down like quiet snowfall, catching on Silay’s shoes and shoulders. The air had a strong garlic scent, but there was also something fresh in it, like the breeze and grass.

The forest didn’t feel empty. It felt attentive and careful to each of Silay’s steps.

Reaching the road where Silay’s car, thankfully, remained intact even though it was only parked randomly, their early morning trip from Cavite to Manila started. In fact, Suliyao requested to drive, but Silay refused, as he felt the younger man looked too tired and spent for some unknown reason.

He even did a quick check-up to see if there was something wrong before starting the vehicle. But to Silay’s observation, there was nothing abnormal besides Suliyao’s slightly low temperature and cold hands.

[Don’t worry,] Suliyao signed.

When the scenery started showing more and more civilization—buildings, houses, or whatnot—Silay actually started reflecting. His skepticism in the supernatural had simply crumbled after Suliyao’s existence.

Might as well stay connected to satiate my curiosity.

Silay mouthed as he drove, “Enter your contact information in my phone.”

Suliyao blinked, took the phone from the holder in front of him, raised the brightness to the max, and entered his information and number. He saved it under ‘Suliyao Laya.’

The younger man then placed the device back before sinking into the passenger seat, watching the world move past the car window.

As they entered the city, Suliyao fell asleep on the way. Only when he woke up did Silay realize he had brought Suliyao all the way to Manila—again.

‘Damn, I need to escort him back to Cavite tonight…’ Silay sighed. ‘Why did he even board the car?’

The car was parked. What’s done is done.

But he couldn’t just let Suliyao wait the entire day here in the hospital, right?

Silay rummaged through his satchel and took a spare key from a pouch. “Use this to enter my house,” he said, giving Suliyao the exact address, and even writing it down on his phone after borrowing it. Silay didn’t feel content, and opened the maps. “Stay there if you’ve got nowhere else to go here. It’s just a short walk from the hospital. You can also roam around before resting there, if you like. I need to clock in.”

Suliyao stared at the key now resting in his palm, forcibly handed to him, in great disbelief.

‘Why does he have a car if his house is walking distance from his work?’

The man thought for a moment, ‘Ah, to visit his father?’

‘No, wait, Isn’t this guy way too trusting? What if I rob you?’

Silay gave a short nod before walking away. Before the doctor exited Suliyao’s sight, his voice resonated inside the older man’s head again, “Don’t wear those glasses inside the hospital. If those entities sense you can see them, you might get attacked.”

The doctor only waved, taking off the glasses as he entered the building, greeting the security guard with a polite “Good morning.”

Suliyao stood there for a moment longer, then looked down at the address saved on his phone.

‘Ha… Doctor, you’ll really die if you’re this carefree…’