Chapter 12: Learning Hands, Souls Tied

Besides the breakfast they shared in the village, Suliyao hadn’t eaten anything since.

Not because he didn’t know how to turn on the stove at Silay’s house, or because there was nothing in the fridge. The truth was simpler, the wound on his soul was too deep. Too fatal.

So he needed to sleep.

Not the kind humans do. It’s the kind where one turns off their mind, their breath, and even the flickers of their spirit. Where one lets the world seep into their veins, pulling energy from stone, plant, and sky alike, so he can stitch his essence back together, even temporarily.

He slept from morning until long after the moon rose, not even dreaming.

And when his phone rang, slicing through the quiet house, he barely stirred. It took the second ring to pull his heavy eyes open.

Too late to answer.

Groggy, he typed with slow fingers:

[Suliyao Laya: I won’t be able to talk even through the phone or use ‘telepathy’ when I’m unsure where you are. Just leave a message.]

[Suliyao Laya: Are you not coming back home today?]

The screen’s glow cast a cold light across his tired face and unkempt hair. He didn’t even get to press send for the second message before the device vibrated again.

Silay was calling for the third time.

Persistent as always. Even if Suliyao answered, only Silay would be able to talk. He could only listen. And if he couldn’t reply, verbally or mentally, wouldn’t it just be like talking to a wall?

Still, something told him to press the green icon.

He answered.

And what came through was not Silay’s usual complaints. Not his greetings or teasing or quirks.

It was a ragged voice that was barely audible, not even calling his name. His breathing was trembling:

“Please… help…”

Suliyao shot up from the couch and bolted toward the door. He snatched the spare key Silay had given him and locked the house behind him. At the gate, he paused only for a second, the sky overhead was suffocatingly dark. The hospital was within walking distance, but even a few minutes might be too late.

Using his power to teleport would get him there instantly but it would drain him completely. If the entity was still there, he wouldn't be able to fight.

He glanced down at his phone. The call still hadn’t ended.

No more hesitation. Suliyao ran.

Is it because he’s wearing the glasses? Is that why he was attacked? The thought flashed through his mind as he sprinted down the road.

He locked onto Silay’s soul signature, sharp and flickering, and pushed his legs harder. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe something else, but he reached the scene in under two minutes. Without pause, he scanned the parking lot and found Silay’s car.

He yanked at the door handle.

Locked.

Inside, Silay was barely conscious, pinned to the seat by a figure. The malice was thick in the air, like tar.

Suliyao projected his voice directly into Silay’s mind: “Try to unlock the door.”

Through his half-lidded eyes, Silay saw the rearview mirror. He turned his head weakly toward the control panel. The button to unlock the door was within sight but too far. His seat had been pushed back too much during the attack.

“I’m going to break the window,” Suliyao warned.

Silay wanted to protest. Car maintenance was hellishly expensive.

But he also didn’t want to die.

A crack like thunder split the silence.

Suliyao struck the window with his bare fist, his spiritual energy condensed into his knuckles like a blade wrapped in skin. Glass splintered but didn’t shatter. The entity inside had warded the space, corrupting even the material world.

Suliyao recoiled, cradling his bruised hand for a split second before reaching under his coat and drawing a small charm from the lining. A scrap of old cloth, stitched with fading symbols.

He pressed it flat against the window. His lips moved—soundless, urgent, forgotten language unraveling in the dark.

This time, the window fractured with a whine, like the glass itself was trying to scream.

Inside, the weight on Silay’s chest slackened for just a breath. Just enough.

His hand, trembling, inched toward the lock switch again. Pain bloomed up his shoulder as the entity noticed, slamming him back into the seat. But it was too late.

Click.

Suliyao yanked the door open. The entity turned its head; no face, no eyes, but still looking. The cold thickened, sour and metallic like rotting coins in blood.

Get off him. Is what Suliyao’s eyes had wanted to convey, like a verdict.

The entity lunged. Suliyao pulled Silay halfway out of the car and forced a charm between the figure’s fingers, letting it burn with pure light drawn from Suliyao’s very core.

It shrieked, folding in on itself like a collapsing shadow.

Silay coughed, gasping in a lungful of night air that felt too thin and too sharp. He didn’t even know if he was conscious anymore. But Suliyao’s arm was steady around his shoulders, his other hand glowing with baybayin.

“I owe you a new window,” Suliyao’s voice echoed inside the other man’s head.

Silay gave a weak laugh.

Then promptly passed out.

* * *

Silay jolted awake, it was already six in the morning the next day. A sharp throb struck his head like a warning knock, and he groaned, sitting up slowly. In the small mirror on his bedside table, he caught a glimpse of himself. The salingbobog necklace still hung around his neck. But something was different.

A deep bruise circled his skin beneath it, like a mark burned in by something unseen.

Fragments of last night came rushing back. The way that unknown entity had mimicked Li’s face. The moment Suliyao appeared, and exorcised the thing like it was routine. Then the blur of Suliyao purifying the car using some kind of ritual before driving it back to Silay’s house. He’d parked like a pro, used his spare key to come inside, checked on him briefly, and left again.

The rest must’ve passed in a heavy, dreamless sleep.

Silay reached for his phone, still beside his pillow. A notification blinked at him:

Your car has been scheduled for repair. Reason: Street accident. Paid in full—Cash. Signed by: Suliyao Lipol.

Of course. Obviously.

He really knows how stuff works around here, huh…

Dragging his body out of bed, Silay stumbled toward the kitchen, parched. He opened the fridge, pulled out a pitcher of water, and downed two full glasses.

Now came the questions.

He hadn’t been able to see or sense anything supernatural before. Even when Itel showed fear, Silay had no proof that anything beyond the natural existed. He never believed in any of it.

But now?

He could feel, hear, and see them.

Even without the glasses that Suliyao had enchanted somehow, he was being attacked.

If what Lirika said was true, if engkantos had really been surrounding him this whole time, that must’ve been a horrifying sight.

Everything had gotten eerie since the day he picked up Suliyao from that mountain.

And while his curiosity only grew, the creeping dread of being dragged deeper into this world as a regular civilian gnawed at him. He didn’t want any more trouble.

(Do you feel scared?)

A glaringly bright phone screen suddenly lit up in front of him, dragging his vision away. Suliyao was suddenly standing beside him, holding his device innocently.

Silay flinched, nearly dropping the glass he was holding. The water sloshed dangerously but Suliyao caught his wrist just in time, steadying him.

Silay let out a frustrated sigh, pressing a hand to his temple.

“Your screen’s always so bright,” he muttered, squinting as he reached to adjust the brightness.

Once it dimmed a little, he blinked the sting out of his eyes.

“I’m not scared.”

Suliyao didn’t say anything. He just stared at him—expression unreadable, eyes slightly narrowed like he was studying something beneath the surface. Maybe trying to tell if Silay was lying.

Then, he typed again and turned the phone around.

(Many things similar to this will happen in the future. It tried to possess you last night. An evil spirit, searching for a host.)

Silay hummed, “Then, what’s the reason I can see, hear, and feel them? I didn’t even use my glasses.”

The younger man’s eyes widened slightly.

“Yes, I saw its figure. I could feel its grip on my skin… and I was able to talk to it when it was wearing Li’s face,” Silay confirmed.

Suliyao stared at Silayan for a long while before falling into deep thought. Lirika told him that Silay couldn’t handle spiritual energy, nor could he sense spirits—whether malevolent or born of nature. He moved, lightly pressing his fingers to Silay’s temples.

“???”

There it was, a faint flow of spiritual energy. Unstable but pulsing. It came from Silay’s own soul. Is it because his body’s been knocked around a few times by Lirika and the surrounding energy… that his system had no choice but to unlock itself?

Suliyao was about to share his thoughts when, once again, Silay’s nose started to bleed. The doctor immediately tilted his head back, walking over to a nearby cabinet for tissues.

The younger man waited, watching carefully to see if Silay would collapse again from his body’s incompatibility with spiritual energy. But to his surprise, Silay simply wobbled his way over to the sink, steady but slow, carefully wiping the blood away.

After plugging his nose with tissues, Silay spoke casually, “Let’s have breakfast.”

* * *

Today, Silay ended his shift early after submitting a report. He tried convincing Suliyao not to fully cover the car repair, but the younger man refused. Besides, Suliyao had already paid in cash. In the end, Silay just told him before heading out, “At least stay here, use my food, electricity, and water. Think of it as a courtesy for saving me.”

When Silay opened the door upon arriving home, he saw Suliyao asleep again. He went over, bending down to poke the man’s cheek.

Out cold, completely still like a log.

In the kitchen, the rice cooker already had newly cooked rice, and a pot of sinigang sat on the stove waiting to be reheated. No dishes in the sink, the floor spotless, no lights unnecessarily left on.

Silay gaped, as he checked around his house. This… isn’t bad at all.

After changing clothes and freshening up, he sat beside Suliyao and gently shook him. “Wake up, let’s have dinner together.”

Suliyao hummed in response but didn’t open his eyes. That’s when Silay noticed, thankfully, the clothes he lent fit well, he even slept comfortably in them. Checking the laundry area, Silay saw his own clothes hanging neatly.

He returned to Suliyao’s side. “Come on… I don’t want to eat alone.”

Groggily, Suliyao cracked one eye open before sitting up, his hair an absolute mess.

Silay quietly commented in his head, ‘He sure sleeps a lot.’

* * *

The table was already clean, the rice fluffed, and the sinigang steamed gently after Silay reheated it. He placed the bowls down, grabbed utensils, and peeked at Suliyao still slumped lazily on the chair nearby—half-awake, hair disheveled (Silay does not know why he keeps emphasizing this), eyes barely open, like someone fighting off sleep but failing terribly.

Silay shook his head with a faint laugh, “You’re hopeless.”

Without further words, he plated both their portions. A generous serving of rice, sinigang with the right mix of vegetables and tender meat for each bowl, careful not to spill the broth. He slid the warm bowl in front of the drowsy man.

Suliyao blinked slowly, sitting properly, his gaze lingering at the food, then at Silay.

The soft clinking of utensils and the comforting scent of the meal filled the small dining space. Despite the silence, there was no awkwardness, just the quiet sound of dinner shared between two people who naturally existed in each other’s space.

Suliyao ate slowly, clearly still waking up, but his movements gradually steadied. His eyes flickered toward Silay occasionally, studying his face, but Silay only focused on eating.

When they were nearly done, Silay cleared his throat, looking at him, “Is it alright to ask… could you start teaching me now? FSL, I mean.”

Suliyao paused mid-chew, then nodded softly.

“I’ll teach you lots.”

After wiping his mouth, he raised his hands, fingers curling into a shape. His motions were fluid but slow, ensuring Silay could see every detail.

[Thank you for the food.]

The sign ended with a gentle tap of the chin and an outward motion, graceful and subtle.

Silay copied the gesture awkwardly at first, but Suliyao patiently demonstrated again, this time leaning in slightly, guiding Silay’s fingers into the right form.

When Silay finally got it right, Suliyao’s lips curved faintly, almost like a hidden smile.

“There,” Silay muttered under his breath, repeating the sign with more confidence. “Thank you for the food.”

The quiet warmth lingered between them, as the hum of the evening wrapped around the small home like a comfortable blanket.