Chapter 18: To You, In the Future

Dr. Vasconcelos. Full name: Anakin Clio Vasconcelos, is the psychiatrist Itel wanted to refer to Silay back then when he told her that he could hear voices.

“Wait,” her voice cracked, realization dawning. Everything that happened tonight was absurd, “I think I also need to book a session. Hang on, are you even mentally stable? You’re here too!”

Anakin gave a bright, self-satisfied smile. “Stable? What a complicated term. But I can offer professional care.”

He tapped Silay’s necklace like a trinket appraisal. “Though right now, I think all three of you need less medication.”

Itel massaged her temples after hearing him talk, “Maybe we all need to get our heads checked.”

Li just held onto Silay tighter, exasperated, “At this point, sign me up.”

Anakin subtly tried to take off Silay’s necklace as they chatted, only to hiss as his fingers burned on contact. His bright smile twitched ever so slightly.

Clapping his hands together, he exclaimed, “Well then! We can’t just sit around here swimming in blood. Time to clean up, folks. Night is deep but still young.”

With practiced ease, he settled the unconscious teenager onto a nearby chair, head drooping like a ragdoll.

Itel gasped, recognition flashing in her eyes. “Lirika?!”

Anakin quirked a brow, teasing, “Do you just know everyone, woman?”

“My name is Itel,” she corrected sharply, eyes wide. “And no, but why is my former patient here? What… just what is happening?!”

Anakin only chuckled, rifling through a nearby cabinet for cleaning supplies. “Who knows? Maybe my good ol’ mentor can explain when he wakes up.”

He handed them a pile of detergents, cloths, and disinfectants. “Chop chop. Right now, we look like we’ve committed multiple homicides.”

Li grimaced, “Can’t we just use that… shaman stuff you people keep doing? You know, magic or whatever?”

Anakin paused mid-wipe, then burst out laughing, the sound filling the room.

Li, still holding Silay protectively, frowned at him. In one swift motion, Anakin approached and scooped up both Silay and the slumped Suliyao, placing them gently onto a cleaner chair, away from the bloody mess.

“You think we’re in a fantasy world or something, Dr. Clemente?” Anakin teased, eyes sparkling with amusement as he tossed them a scrub brush.

How did he know my name? 

Li just knew, right then and there, that they wouldn’t make it to Manila tomorrow.

Not with this strange house, a bleeding, unconscious Silay, a mute shaman, a cocky psychiatrist, spirits clawing at the walls, and now Itel’s former patient mysteriously thrown into the mix like some twisted reunion.

He exhaled, rubbing his temple as Anakin tossed him another mop with far too much cheer for the situation. Now he held a brush and mop, dumbly.

Anakin then pressed his hand at the barrier Silay created, shattering it into pieces.

“What a strong power, I wonder why he sealed it again. Is it because he couldn’t control it?”

* * *

The next morning, Silay woke up.

He stretched his arms, only to groan when a sting shot through his injured hand. Right, I drove the scissors there. Like an idiot. Yeah.

Then came the stiff neck. He must’ve slept awkwardly.

As he massaged the back of his neck and looked around, it finally registered. He wasn’t in his house. He was in Suliyao’s. Outside, the sun was high up.

“High up...?!”

Panic hit him. He immediately stood, but his vision blacked out for a moment. Dizziness swept over him, forcing him to sit back down. Did I become anemic overnight?

When his view cleared, he noticed Suliyao slumped carelessly on the other chair. Itel and Li? They were both curled up under the long wooden chair, practically burrowed there like they were chasing warmth.

Then his eyes landed on an unfamiliar man in a striking red long-sleeve shirt, lounging on the last unoccupied chair.

And on the long couch…

Huh? Lirika?

Why is she—?

Silay froze, memories flooding back. The bloody, chaotic, terrifying night. The creatures, the barriers, the fights.

Yet now… everything was spotless. The place was squeaky clean, like last night was nothing but a fever dream.

Once his dizziness subsided, Silay carefully moved toward Lirika, checking her pulse and breathing. She looked peaceful but that didn’t mean much with her condition. He hovered a hand over her forehead, quietly debating whether to wake her up now.

The other adults were still asleep. Suliyao looked drained beyond reason, Li was practically buried beside Itel under the chair, and the stranger in red—well, Silay wasn’t about to mess with that just yet.

His brows furrowed as he observed Lirika closer.

I need to monitor her somewhere better, he reminded himself, this place… it’s not ideal for someone like her. What if her sleep illness flared up?

And then there was Hiraya. Did I save her phone number? Maybe later, when things are also clear for him, he could call the hospital and ask about her or get her help.

Before he could act further, a sudden chill slid over both his ears, like cold fingers brushing across his skin, faint yet enough to send his nerves on edge. It felt like something unsealing, something being loosened.

A sweet yet mellow voice whispered, gentle as it echoed faintly:

“Silay…”

His gaze snapped toward the door.

It stood ajar, the faintest draft curling inward. As if it was calling him.

As if someone was beckoning him to come.

Silay left the house.

Unlike the heavy atmosphere from last night, this one held no malice. Just a simple call, gentle, as if it wanted to show him something.

His intuition had never failed him.

Outside, the trees surrounding the village swayed softly, casting cool shadows along the ground. Their movement leaned toward one direction, their branches almost pointing. Guiding him.

Silay followed.

He walked, and walked, until the houses disappeared behind him, and he reached the edge of the village.

A cliff greeted him. Beyond it stretched the endless blue sky. The sun graced his skin as he stood there, a faint warmth lulling his tension.

“Silay…”

The familiar voice called again.

Like the shimmer of reflected sky, a figure danced across the grass below. It hopped from one large stone to another, graceful, ethereal. The alluring voice drifted over him, soothing the quiet forest.

The figure neared the cliff’s edge, still partially veiled in sunlight. It turned toward him. It bowed before smiling faintly, as its lips moved:

“I apologize…”

The figure faced the horizon again, the vision sharpening as if the fog shrouding its figure peeled away.

“I’ll leave my… to you…”

But the voice was fading now, its words incomplete.

“May… the forest… convey this…”

To you, in the future.

Silay’s instincts snapped to life. His body moved on its own, feet pushing forward as he tried to reach the figure before it fell but its hand moved first, crushing something small in its palm.

A faint crack, then she fell.

“Good Lord! What are you doing?” a firm hand yanked him backward by the waist and wrist.

The trance shattered.

Silay’s vision was filled with red fabric, gold details glinting in the sunlight. It was the unknown man from Suliyao’s house.

He’d stopped him from tipping over the cliff too.

Their eyes met before Anakin scoffed, “I knew something was off about you. I just didn’t know it was this weird.” He leaned in closer, his tone more curious than mocking. “Are you even aware your soul is fading? Yet somehow… it’s brimming with spiritual compatibility. Nature, the earth, maybe even the heavens are woven into you.”

“Ah.” Anakin pulled Silay's palm toward him, inspecting the lines across it. “Your mortal vessel—hmm, human body, if that makes it sound more acceptable—is as fragile as thin glass. You should be aware of that. I bet you were weak as hell during your childhood.”

He traced a point in Silay’s palm. “This line’s broken.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “It means… you should’ve died long ago.”

Silay’s brown eyes only blinked at him. Somehow this man’s voice was muffled. What’s happening with my ears? The doctor touched it a few times, trying to shake his head.

“Death must be chasing after you,” Meanwhile, Anakin sighed, scratching his head, quietly wondering if this was why his mentor had been acting protective. Who exactly was this human? In any case, if Suliyao cared enough to intervene, then he’d drag him back alive.

“But worry not,” Anakin continued, letting go of Silay’s hand, “We’ll find a way to figure out what’s happening to you, since you’re walking around looking like a headless chicken.”

Silay replied simply, “Sorry… I didn’t catch what you said.” His eyes suddenly welled with tears, tears he hadn’t noticed, yet his voice never wavered. “The wind and the surroundings… are noisy.”

Anakin froze for a moment, blinking. His grip wasn’t that rough, was it? Was he in pain? But it didn’t look like that at all.

Wait. Noisy? This part of the forest was unsettlingly silent. He hated going here but he just ended up following this guy out here.

“Why are you crying?” Anakin finally asked, leaning down to peer into the other man’s face.

Silay stilled.

Crying?

He touched his cheeks.

Oh.

Suddenly, his chest tightened painfully, like unseen chains constricting his ribs. His hand curled into his clothes, his breath hitching into a quiet, helpless sound.

It hurts…

“Hey, hey—” Anakin’s expression faltered, his teasing tone replaced with unease. “Is death really that scary for you?”

But Silay wasn’t thinking about death.

It was that… scene.

A wave of weakness knocked into his knees. His heart lurched with the same hollow ache. It’s similar to the feeling of how he imagines if his father dies. It was as if a truth he couldn’t yet understand unraveled in front of him. A revelation about something, or someone, precious.

Yet the scene was fleeting. Like a vision never truly lived, but mourned all the same.

Who… was that?

As Anakin hovered beside him awkwardly, trying to comfort him, Silay’s gaze fell to the leaves scattered along the ground.

Was that a memory?

No… 

A dream?

It’s not that either. It felt different from his dreams, the ones so vivid they mimicked life.

That… scene was like an echo. A fragment of something tragic, shown to him by the world itself.

Something he wasn’t there to stop… 

“Hey, to be honest…” the man in red started again, his fingers resting casually at his side, “...even if I said we’ll try to find a way, it doesn’t mean your real fate won’t catch up to you.”

Silay slowly looked up at him, eyes still faintly glassy from earlier.

“Can you speak clearly?” Silay asked, his voice steady, but distant. “Your voice is… too faint.”

Anakin’s brows twitched slightly. He couldn’t tell if this man was trying to dodge the conversation, or genuinely couldn’t hear him.

“If you don’t want to listen, fine—”

But his words abruptly cut off.

His sharp eyes caught it. Crimson drops trailing from Silay’s ears, staining his skin.

Anakin’s pupils contracted. His casual posture straightened, hand instinctively reaching forward, gripping Silay’s shoulder.

“Oi.” His voice dipped lower, sharper. “You’re bleeding again.”

* * *

Anakin dragged Silay back to the house. Just as his hand was about to reach for the doorknob, it swung open on its own, slamming against the wall with force.

There stood Suliyao, face pale, panic etched across his normally calm features.

The moment his eyes landed on Silay—alive, though bloodstained, beside Anakin—his expression eased. He gestured them inside.

Within, everyone was already awake. Even Lirika, sitting stiffly on the floor, eyes heavy with unease.

The atmosphere hinted that Suliyao had snapped, perhaps from the frustration of Silay disappearing again.

Anakin didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Silay by the collar, shoving him to sit down beside the others.

Suliyao’s sharp eyes landed on the bloodstains trailing from Silay’s ears. His gaze briefly flickered to Anakin, questioning, but not accusing. There was trust in his eyes, the quiet understanding that Anakin wouldn’t deliberately harm him.

“I think a spirit lured him out.” Anakin concluded simply, kneeling behind Silay. His hands moved deftly to his ears, repeating the same seal from last night, softly closing off his senses from the overwhelming spiritual noise.

“If something could undo your seal, teacher,” Anakin added, glancing at Suliyao, “that means it’s a powerful one.”

Li's eyes narrowed, watching silently. Teacher? Suliyao is a teacher? His eyes then darted to the stranger who made him clean all night long with disdain. He’s a student?

Anakin’s sharp gaze shifted. “What? Why are you staring like that?”

Without waiting for an answer, Anakin scooted over, invading Li's personal space, and tilted his chin upward teasingly. “Missed me?”

“As if.” Li slapped his hand away with a flat stare.

“How about you, Dr. Bustamante?” Anakin pivoted toward Itel with a grin far too charming for this disaster, “Thank you for considering coming to my clinic, by the way.”

Itel glitched, blinking rapidly. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. Overheating. The infamous Dr. Vasconcelos her colleagues whispered about was nothing like this playful man in front of her.

“Uh…” Silay interrupted, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “There’s a lot I want to ask…”

His eyes flickered to Lirika, who shrunk slightly, fidgeting with her sleeves.

“But maybe…” Silay cleared his throat, offering a hesitant smile, “Let’s… introduce ourselves properly? I think we all started on the wrong foot of each other. Then we can tackle the whole… mess from last night?”