Chapter 16: Past Bled, Present Wounded

Now, both Silay and Li stood in fresh clothes, perfectly fitted to their frames. It wasn’t just comfortable, it was… flattering.

Li couldn’t help but gape at his own reflection in the mirror. For the first time in his life, despite hearing compliments every now and then, he actually felt like he looked good.

Earlier, after about twenty minutes, Suliyao had opened the door and eagerly handed Li the clothes. Though the man hadn’t spoken, his eyes practically sparkled with anticipation. Their bloodied garments were neatly set aside for now, forgotten.

And before they could say anything, Suliyao had reached out and gently patted both their heads, his expression proud and satisfied.

Li assumed it was because they looked decent but Silay chuckled quietly, correcting, “He said he’s relieved we’re not gravely injured.”

Li frowned slightly. There were no signs, no text messages… how on earth did Silay translate that?

But before he could ask, the fluffy, lighthearted atmosphere quietly dissolved. The night deepened outside the windows, shadows stretching longer. And with it, Suliyao’s playful demeanor shifted into quiet solemnity.

As Suliyao signed the words, Silay carefully voiced them, matching his pace: “Please leave the premises of the village… Some malignant—” the Doctor faltered, frowning, “—wait, repeat that? You’re too fast.”

Suliyao adjusted his hands into simpler, clearer signs. His fingers traced each word with precision: “Evil spirits may have trespassed. The barrier is broken. Your friends wouldn’t be safe here.”

His hand gestured briefly to the corner of the room, where their bloodied clothes lay discarded, a silent reminder of what they barely escaped earlier.

Li, who had been silent, finally interrupted, still eyeing the strange old house with its polished wood and odd atmosphere. “Silay said you’re a shaman… That’s true? I mean… considering this hidden village up in the mountain-”

But before Li could finish, Suliyao’s entire body stiffened. His eyes snapped toward the door.

And without warning, he bolted, feet barely making a sound as he sprinted to the entrance.

A violent gust slammed into the wooden panels , a distorted hiss echoing beyond the walls. The faint moonlight caught the writhing silhouette of a Sigbin, its hunched, dog-like body twisted with elongated limbs, skin blotched and sickly pale, eyes red as coals. Its backward feet clawed at the soil as it circled the house.

It was a creature known to drain life force, suck blood from the shadows of their victims, and steal children’s hearts to make it an amulet.

Suliyao threw a charm against the doorframe. The paper ignited into light, forming a thin golden barrier but the Sigbin’s claws still tore into the threshold, spitting snarls laced with venomous hate.

Whispers flooded in.

Voices seeped through the cracks in the walls, low and ragged like wind scraping through teeth. Silay struggled to make sense of them but beside him, Li went rigid, paling.

His lips mouthed the fragments: “Silayan, Of Luan Clan, son of Alaya… be dead… how dare… you… come back… here…”

Suliyao’s head whipped toward them, his eyes wide with alarm. His voice rang directly into Silay’s mind, steady but urgent: “He can hear it. Your friend, his spiritual affinity is high.”

“W-What do we do?” Silay’s pulse spiked as another bang rattled the walls.

“Burn your bloodied clothes. Now.” Suliyao’s mental tone left no room for protest. “They’re marked. They’ll use them to track you.”

Already moving, Silay grabbed the soiled clothes, yanking Li by the wrist. “Come here, help me!”

The house groaned under the pressure as the Sigbin outside howled, a bone-deep, rattling screech that echoed hatred centuries old. Shadows pressed at the windows, clawed fingers of unseen entities scraping against glass, whispering ancient curses.

Both men ran to the kitchen.

The stove clicked to life with a faint whoosh of blue flame. Silay held the bloodied clothes above it using a tong, careful not to knock over anything else on the counter. The old wooden house might look sturdy however one wrong move and they’d blast themselves to the afterlife before the spirits even got to them.

“Careful,” Li muttered, adjusting the flame lower as smoke curled from the burning fabric.

He then opened the nearby capiz window slightly to let the smoke escape, his brows knitted in thought. 

“Earlier, did you just say… Silayan of the Luan Clan?” Silay, rolling the sleeves of his borrowed woven shirt, didn’t even glance back. 

“You heard me.” Li scratched his head, stepping away slowly from Silay because the fire that was burning the shirt turned brighter, “That’s what they called out. Ack, it’s hot…”

The spirits’ words replayed in his mind, sharp like a broken recorder. 

The hatred in those whispers wasn’t casual, it was personal. Those entities didn’t just hate some stranger. They wanted him gone, erased.

Silay dumped the last piece of fabric in the pot as it engulfed itself ablaze, his jaw tightening. “I’ve dreamed of that guy,” he confessed, stirring the smoldering cloth with a metal tong, the flames licking higher for a second.

“For real?” Li gawked, putting his shirt in the pot too.

“Do you think I’m joking right now?” Silay deadpanned, eyes narrowing.

“No, it’s just that your dreams since we were young were kind of off-putting…” Li’s voice died in his throat as his eyes darted to the open window. “Oh crap… I shouldn’t have opened that—”

It was too late.

The faint barrier that Suliyao must’ve set up wavered, threads of energy snapping like frayed rope. A low hiss slithered through the room, and claw marks scraped down the wooden walls.

Silay spun on his heel, eyes widening as the creature forced its way inside. Not a sigbin this time. Worse. Its form twisted unnaturally, hair spilling down like burned vines, knotted and ash-colored. Its face, if it could be called that, was nothing but darkness with two seething, blood-red dots for eyes.

Ah, ah, ah. Don’t be mad at us Suliyao, we didn’t know we can’t open the windows when you put that glowing paper at the door!

The jagged claws, long as daggers slashed toward them, catching the air by inches.

Silay grabbed Li’s collar, yanking him back as they stumbled over chairs and the edge of the table. “Move, MOVE!”

The creature’s voice tore through the room like broken glass: “It’s your fault… your fault… It's your fault! It's your fault! YOUR FAULT—”

It lunged.

Li ducked low, narrowly missing a claw swipe that splintered the wall behind him.

Silay shoved him again toward the door of the living room, “Suliyao!! Sorry, sorry! We accidentally let them in!”

Li tried to argue, “No, It was me, my fault-” but Silay already shoved him down the hall, taking responsibility as always.

The creature shrieked, the walls of the house groaning under the pressure. Shadows writhed like smoke, creeping toward them with every step.

“Keep moving!” Silay ordered, barely looking back as his heart thundered in his chest. Where was Suliyao?

They stumbled back into the living room.

Only Itel was there, still lying peacefully on the long wooden chair, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm under the blanket Suliyao had tucked around her. The space near the door where Suliyao stood earlier doing incantations was empty.

Gone.

Silay’s pulse pounded in his ears. Should we wake her? But what if she faints again? Itel said she's afraid of ghosts…

Li was pacing in short, quick steps across the room, running a trembling hand through his hair. Despite that, he was trying to hide that he was afraid.

His eyes flicked toward every window, every shadow creeping along the walls, muscles tense like a coiled spring. His free hand hovered near the closest object, a glass vase on the shelf as if prepared to smash it as a weapon, even though it wouldn’t help much against whatever was outside.

Silay’s mind raced, spiraling fast. Do we carry her? But we can’t even protect ourselves… what more of dragging someone unconscious…?

He chewed the inside of his cheek, sharp enough to taste metal. His foot tapped the floor without him noticing, anxious, the heel of his palm pressed to his forehead.

The creature in the kitchen is approaching them.

Do we stay here? Hide? But if we get discovered and cornered?

Do we go outside? What if more of those things are waiting?

We can’t fight that. We barely escaped.

His fingers hovered at his side, twitching faintly, as though ready to sign something, but nothing coherent came to mind.

What should I do? What should I—

“Silay,” Li’s voice snapped, a little rough. He tossed a quick glance to the window again, the creature’s silhouette barely visible in the distorted glass, stalking around the house.

Silay’s thoughts slammed to a halt. He clutched the necklace Suliyao had given him before striding toward the door.

Li jolted, scrambling to lift Itel. “We’re running?” he asked, already halfway to hauling her upright.

But Silay didn’t answer. His gaze locked onto the remnants of the oration left by Suliyao on the doorframe, the paper stained with faint blood, its surface etched with strange, curling Baybayin letters that pulsed faintly against the dim light.

“What are you doing?” Li asked, alarmed.

“Imitating,” Silay replied shortly, already moving with startling precision. He snatched the first aid kit from the nearby table, fingers digging through it until he grabbed the small medical scissors, meant for cutting gauze.

“Hey, hey—!” Li barely had time to lower Itel back down before Silay plunged the scissor’s edge straight into the already-bandaged flesh of his own hand.

Blood welled out, fast and crimson, dripping onto the floor as the howls outside intensified.

“You idiot!” Li cursed, panic rising, eyes darting to the windows where twisted shadows pressed up against the glass. “You’re a Doctor, what the hell are you doing? You’re making it worse, it’ll attract them more!”

Silay barely heard him. His breathing grew ragged as he knelt down, smearing the blood onto the wooden floor in shaky, uncertain strokes. His hand trembled, not from fear but conviction, eyes clear as he recreated the oration's symbols. Each letter was traced in deep red, sweat dripping from his temple as the corrupted entity from the kitchen clawed closer. Its burnt, vine-like hair scraping across the walls, talons clicking like bone against the glass.

The moment his fingers completed the final curve of the incantation, a pulse of energy burst from the floor, like a shockwave rippling through the house. A silent barrier has been erected.

The windows rattled, the walls groaned, and the howling outside ceased. The corrupted beings recoiled as though burned, their shadows retreating into the dense night as silence fell.

“…It worked?” Silay’s voice cracked in disbelief, chest heaving.

Li slumped down beside Itel, limbs weak with relief. “You… you’ve got a talent for this for someone who doesn’t believe in any of it.”

Silay let out a weak laugh, wiping his brow. “You don’t believe in it either-”

But his sentence faltered as fresh blood trickled from his nose, dark drops staining his wrist.

A crushing pain gripped his chest, worse than before. His heart seized, the world spinning as invisible chains tightened around his ribs, coiling up his soul as though it were being shredded from the inside out.

Silay collapsed beside the bloodied symbols, his body convulsing weakly.

“Silay? Hey! Silay, no, stay awake…!” Li’s voice trembled, the color draining from his face as he grabbed for his friend’s shoulders.

The scene was hauntingly familiar, too familiar. His entire body recoiled, muscles freezing with a raw, indescribable fear.

I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen this…

“Silay, wake up! Silay Manawari!”

…

…

…

Long ago, under storm-heavy clouds, Dumakulem stood at the boundary of mountain and sky, arms crossed. Rain battered the leaves, flooding the lowlands far beyond his forest’s reach.

“Thou hast overdone it,” Dumakulem spoke calmly, though his voice carried weight like a shifting stone.

Anitun Tabu, new to her title yet already wearing arrogance like jewels, only smirked. “You request for rain. They did pray for rain. I have answered both.”

The goddess leaned lazily against the wind, hair trailing like storm clouds behind her. She held no shame. “Their beloved Katalonan performed a rite for me once more—a pag-apitan, was it not? And so, I came.”

Dumakulem’s gaze sharpened. “Thou have drowned the valleys.”

“I granted that which they desired,” Anitun Tabu teased, plucking raindrops from the air like ornaments. “And thy precious mortal offered such a sweet song, I could not deny him. Fret not, I shall cease now that they pray otherwise.”

The mention of his mortal made Dumakulem’s chest constrict. Before he could retort, an overwhelming pressure swept across the land. It was not Anitun Tabu’s storm. It was heavier. The invisible mark of Kaluwalhatian’s divine judgment.

Dumakulem’s steps quickened, leaving Anitun Tabu behind as he descended the mountain trail. The wind howled warnings in his ears.

When they reached Hapilanda’s open clearing, his breath lodged in his throat.

There, collapsed upon the soaked earth, lay Silayan.

His long hair clung to his face, dark with rain. His once sun-warmed skin had paled, his chest unmoving. Ceremonial white and purple garments clung to him, soaked through, the earth stained where his body met it.

Beside him, his twin sister, Saniha, sobbed, her small frame curled beside Silayan’s fallen body.

Saniha choked between breaths, hands pressed to Silayan’s cold arm, trying to rouse him. “Silayan, what have you done?”

The girl cried, “Why have you slain him?!”

“Look how the Gods have wrought their wrath upon thee, Kuya!”

Dumakulem did not answer. His jaw clenched, hands curling helplessly by his sides. The gods’ rules were vast, their minds impossible to decipher. Yet seeing Silayan, lifeless, discarded by fate, carved a hollow ache through Dumakulem’s immortal form.

Anitun Tabu approached slower now, the teasing edge gone from her expression. Even she quieted as the storm wept over the land.

Dumakulem’s eyes lingered on Silayan’s still face.

“Why?” Dumakulem whispered, though no soul answered him.

He must speak to Saniha yet, would this mortal perceive him at all?

If not, he must steal Silayan and keep him. His body. His existence.

Author’s Note:

Pag-ipatan ritual - Participants gather near rivers or streams, entreating Anitun Tabu to cease the rain during a storm. They seek her mercy to prevent destructive flooding and landslides that might result from the downpour.