/// AT DAWN’S FIRST LIGHT, DATU PUROKBAWI’S THRONE

“Before you leave, give us a day or two,” said Datu Purokbawi. “For the river has stopped rushing, even when I have demanded a boar to be sacrificed, and our warband is still returning from a fresh raid, and I cannot in my good conscience force them to fight without a day’s rest.”

Jaime nodded. “I understand, Datu. Of course, it is all well and good, and I encourage that practice.”

The Datu nodded, grinning. “You are free to travel about the commune. Please, take this opportunity to rest.”

Jaime bowed by the waist. “I thank you, Datu.”

///IN THE MORNING, WITHIN THE COMMUNE OF DATU PUROKBAWI

Jaime awoke them all with a simple word. Or, more accurately, a simple sound.

He perched upon the window of the bamboo housing, and appropriately turned into a great black rooster, and crowed. That awoke them all promptly. They shot out of their beds. Angela’s hair shot up on all sides. Jonathan groped around blindly, his eyes still half-closed. Esther leaped from her bed and, as if some mechanism within her suddenly shifted and activated, made a beeline for the rooster and began choking it.

Casias, Angela noticed, was nowhere to be seen. She wondered, then, that as an albularyo, did she need to sleep?

After a brief kerfuffle between Jaime and Esther, Jaime finally managed to transform back into himself and push Esther away from him. She continued ranting and flailing as if she was the chicken being choked and running about.

“Now that you’re all awake,” yelled Jaime. “Let’s talk about planning. I’ve convened with Datu Purokbawi, and he has said that preparations for raiding the commune are underway. We need only to wait another day. They have some people who just came back from a raid and need to rest, and the river has stopped moving for some strange reason. They’re dealing with it, don’t worry. For that, I ask you to rest for today. You will need it, after all! So go around the commune, talk with some people, or maybe explore the forest. It’s up to you.”

They all nodded. However, uncertainty blossomed in their hearts. Now that nothing was chasing them, or stealing them, or trying to kill them, what were they to do?

Esther perked up, pushing herself off of Jaime like a child removing her tongue stuck to a pole of ice. “This means I get to train more!”

“No training,” said Jaime. “That’ll just sore your muscles even more. Take it slow. I hear that there is a panciteria down in the commune. Go there for some breakfast.”

Esther scowled, sighing. “Fine. Come on, I’m hungry anyway.”

They left the Datu’s golden bamboo palace and made their way to the panciteria. Along the way, they encountered much of the people and learned much of the place. Jonathan pointed out how they had very similar housings to Inarawan: they mostly were bamboo slat houses upon thick hardwood or stone pillars, with bamboo floors and walls and cogon grass roofs. Some of the other houses, like those belonging to the panday or blacksmiths, didn’t have pillars, and were simply large open houses without doors and with the front wall being removed, so that the smiths could work in an open shed, without letting the heat circulate and burn them up from within.

In the commune, the golden bamboo palace of the Datu stands in the middle. To the west, against the river, can be found the residential houses, around five of them in all, for there are only five families here.

To the north of the Datu’s golden bamboo palace are three barracks, each fitting around fifteen people at least. These are where the warriors of the Datu, called maharlika, rest, whenever they need to, or if they cannot rest with their families. Jaime told them that most of the warriors that fought under the Datu don’t come from the families, but are actually skilled war prisoners that have pledged to fight under the Datu.

To the east, against the mountains, one can find the panday, the place of the smith. There they learned that the Datu housed an academy for panday, which grew and trained blacksmiths and bronzesmiths. The bronzesmiths mostly made amulets out of little statues blended with bronze gotten from the little mining that they did. Further to the east one can find a pile of wooden statues sitting underneath a wall-less hut, with bamboo slat floors and a roof made of cogon grass. This was the spirit house, and they offered their offerings to the diwata of their commune, whom they learned the name of: Sandosena.

To the south lay the panciteria, which, presently, our five travelers approach. Around the panciteria were little shops that sold little herbs and spices, food for the road. Casias was consulting with the man that manned the herbalism shop, talking about albularyo recipes and other such rituals. Angela wondered, in her heart of hearts, if this is one of the rare times that she has been able to speak with someone of similar orientation to her. Angela took a second to go over and say hi, and Casias told her to go and eat up, smiling at her all the while. She was indeed conversing about some sort of serpentine oil that flowed only upwards a river that could help in affecting reptiles with unguents, or something to that effect.

Our five travelers walked up a set of bamboo ladders all the way to a front porch of the house. There, those that had footwear removed them, and they washed their feet with a pot of water lying beside the door frame. The water simply slipped past the bamboo slats. Mattheo made fun of Esther’s feet being dirty, outwardly ignoring the fact that his feet looked like he actually wore footwear that was actually a cake of mud.

Then, they entered and were greeted by a spirited young woman with a kerchief tying her hair away from her face greeted them. Sikata, her name was, and she was the daughter of the woman that ran this place. Presently, as they sat about a wooden platform that ringed the large, rectangular hardwood counter (behind which Sikata served the food), they realized that there weren't many people yet.

“Oh, this is mostly because breakfast is served earlier,” said Sikata, smiling, and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile. Her rosy cheeks, golden brown skin, dark hair, and white teeth all seemed to be the sun that melted the snow of tiredness in his soul. Of course, that snow was replaced by a fire of desire. Mattheo knew that this wasn't "love at first sight", even as his gaze went to the more private areas and found her more than adequately endowed.

Angela blinked. “Oh, really? What time is it anyway?”

“Oh, it is Odto na Adlaw, the time when the sun is at its highest.” She grinned as she nodded when Angela thanked her, and even Angela couldn’t help but be delighted at her countenance. Sikata turned around and walked back to the kitchen and prepared more food.

Jaime suddenly appeared beside Angela, like an annoying fly suddenly appearing in your field of vision. Angela jumped, “Ohmygod--”

“--The Empires, where the poetry of the day has been calcified and urbanized into mechanical numbered hours, Odto would be called 12 in the noon. Damn, I want some Arroz caldo* right about now.”

* (Note: a Filipino rice and chicken gruel heavily infused with ginger and garnished with toasted garlic, scallions, and black pepper. It is usually served with calamansi or fish sauce as condiments, as well as a hard-boiled egg.)

“We already asked for some,” said Jonathan, who sat beside Angela. “Esther asked for a huge batch of fried rice and eggs and bacon, though.”

“Ah, bacsilog,” said Esther when she heard them talking about her. It was hard to occult conversations, after all, as they all sat within one row, and the people were quiet. “How I miss you!”

Jaime noted that they were all bound to be hungry, especially after everything that happened the past day, and so he permitted them to eat as much as they could until their bellies were full. He said that he would answer the cost. He then realized something, and with a sort of anxiety mixed with eagerness, he said, “You guys are like my children.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Esther, flapping a hand at him. “You’re like… our kuya. We already call you Kuya anyway.”

“Fine. That’s a lot better than daddy.”

Esther and Angela and Jonathan and Mattheo all cringed as if they had seen a particularly gross video on Youtube, or some other video streaming site.

“Kuya,” spoke Jonathan, and immediately the three others cringed at him. “If it’s noon, then why is it so… quiet?”

“Ah, that is because the farmers and the workers and everyone gets up to work early in the morning, right as the Sun begins to show its first light. They call this Nasirakna, which in the Empires would usually be 4 in the morning. They do this because it is not too hot during these wee hours of the day. And then, they rest at Odto, for the sun is too hot to continue farming, and so they do this until the next day. Sometimes they would return to the farm in the evening, and then they would stop when it is too dark to recognize other people without a torch, which is the time of day they call Igsirinto.”

They all nodded and “oh’d” in revelation, basking in their new knowledge. Mattheo voiced out that it’s a pretty smart move, considering the tropical nature of all of Paraiso, and the intense heat that the dead sun brought down upon them.

Before long, they were served their food--Mattheo managed to wink at Sikata who blinked and cringed in response--and they ate wholeheartedly. After eating, the food surely rejuvenated them, and they were full, and they were wont for nothing afterward.

After they had finished eating, Sikata appeared and cleaned the table. Then afterward, she appeared again from the kitchen and said, “Mamser, I’m going to leave the shop for a bit. If you want to stay around, feel free to do so, but you will not have anyone serving you, I’m afraid. Feel free to eat some of the betel nut chew as well.”

Jaime was already chewing. “Thanks.”

Sikata smiled at him, nodded, and then left. Mattheo rose to his feet. “H-Hey, Sikata! Where are you going?”

Sikata appeared again, although it was only her head peeking out from behind the doorway. “To the forest. I have herbs to pick up…”

Mattheo was already about to leave. “Hey, I’ll go with you!”

Sikata blinked, and then thought, her eyes staring at the bamboo slat floor, and her thinking was deep, for she knew not what to respond, for she knew not what to say or do because of various thoughts and variables that presented such an admission.

Sikata, in the end, decided. “Very well. Assuming you can fight and you are not afraid of the forest?”

Esther snorted. Mattheo harrumphed, like a lion hurt with pride. “I’m not. Don’t worry.” And he walked down the ladder. Angela rose to her feet as well, irritation itching her like a bruise.

“I’m coming with you, you creep,” said Angela, and she walked down and out as well.

Jonathan blinked. “Kuya, don’t you think we should go with them?”

Chewing the betel nut, Jaime, who had closed his eyes, opened one. “It's a rest day, let them have some fun.”

“Fine. Hey, Kuya, how long do you think it’ll take us to get home?”

“Hopefully quickly. I’ll have something arranged with the Datu. I pray that they are safe and sound, back there.”

And as he said that, a young boy, wearing the same white camisa and red pants of almost every farmer here, appeared. He was probably no older than fifteen, gangly and seemingly malnourished. His skin was the color of burnt brass, and his hair the muddy color of riverbanks. He seemed to have been crafted from darkest clay, for all of his body was brown.

“Ate Sikata!” he yelled out as he appeared, only to find Jonathan, Jaime, and Esther there. He paused as if he were a sneaking cat and a light had been shone upon them. “H-Hello, ginoo.”

Jaime spoke. “Sikata left. What did you need, child?”

“Oh, uh, it’s just because…” he seemed unlikely to confess. He twined his fingers and they danced in hesitation. Jaime prodded him, saying that he could say what he wanted to say, that it was no worry.

[Ginoo - A word used for the more “nobles” or “elders” of society.]

Eventually, the child nodded and said, “It’s…. Sir, it is because I was hoping I can buy some pork. We have none to eat today. A-And the water is becoming dry and poisoned due to the death of the River of Tapon-Pabalik.”

Esther’s eyes were pulled open in caring revelation and worry. “Dead?”

Jaime cut in. “It’s not dead, it just stopped flowing. That’s bad for a river.”

“A river can stop flowing?”

“Here in ruined heaven, yes.”

Jonathan nodded and walked up to the boy, who was taller than he was, which surprised even him. Thoughts of cursing his genetics burned within his heart, even as he said, “Come on kid, we’ll help you get some pork. Maybe there’s like… a pig we can hunt outside? I’ve got a bow that can help hunt.”

Esther ran up to the kid as well. “Yeah, I’ll help too! Come on, let’s get something for your family.”

“O-Oh no sir, I can’t possibly--” but Esther was already pulling the kid down the steps and out with her, her grip always itching for adventure.

Jonathan turned to Jaime, who still chewed on betel nut, now mixed with tobacco. “Be careful out there.”

“It’s a rest day,” said Jonathan, smiling.

“Didn’t think you’re the type to just help a person out,” said Jaime. “No offense, of course.”

“I’m not,” said Jonathan. “I don’t even like talking to people. But…” He looked about him. “I have no choice, do I?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, kid.”

“I know.” And he ran down the ladder as well.

Mattheo and Angela walked with Sikata, who was making her way to the forest that lay to the south of the commune. As they walked, they were greeted with big smiles by the people that lived here. They all seemed to wear similar fashion with the people of Inarawan. The men usually wore white camisa de chinos, or sometimes nothing at all, or sometimes a simple cloth vest. Below that, they wore a red or black or blue set of pants, which they almost always pulled up to their knees. The woman wore something similar, although with a simple skirt usually replacing the pants, although that’s not something all the women wore. Some of them went barefoot, while others wore wooden slippers. The women had immaculately groomed hair, which fell down usually to their waist, braided with gold or silver. The men had more variable hair: some preferred to keep their hair short and cropped, while the others let their hair grow as long as the women’s with finger bones used to braid parts of their hair, a memento of their greatness, power, or wealth.

Before long, Sikata led both of them down to the edge of the forest, and she began picking up various herbs and flowers and fruits that lay on the ground. Mattheo was content to just follow her around, and Angela made it a chore of hers to slap his face whenever he tried to stare at Sikata while she bent over to grab another herb. Thankfully, after the first 2 times, he heard the message.

Presently, as Sikata filled one sack with flowers, she began walking deeper into the forest, following a dirt path. Mattheo noticed that she had another sack, and she could smell some of the burnt meat in there. “Hey, Sikata, why do you have cooked meat over there?”

“Oh, it’s if any boar comes to attack us,” she said, smiling. She had put on a salakot to protect her head from the harshness of the dead sun.

As they ventured deeper into the forest, Angela couldn’t help but be ravished in the untouched beauty of the forest. Great trees with shades of navy blue sprout from the ground. Tropical trees, such as palm and bamboo, all shot from the ground with great girths. Large animals leaped from branch to branch. Every now and again a tiger would cross their path, or a pygmy elephant, sometimes a dingo, with its black fangs, but it didn’t linger, as if it didn’t want to speak with them, or interact with their beings.

Mattheo, after the third encounter, said, “Sikata, you must be some kind of princess. They haven’t been noticing you this entire time!”

“And so us too.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that I’m a princess.” And she ventured deeper.

Angela felt it was nice. Whenever something with large claws and teeth came closer, she didn’t suddenly have to brace herself with whatever she had at hand, like a cat raising her hackles and readying to pounce at any moment’s notice. She simply enjoyed it, and she suddenly felt transported back to when her family first visited the zoo.

Even as they walked past this untouched patch of Paraiso, they saw a great pillar, what looked to be the shaft of a spear thrust into the earth. There were still some burning fire within it, burning iridescent as if an eternal furnace burnt within, but presently it was choked by the vines and roots of an entire tree growing upon it as if the steel it was made of provided nutrition.

They came across a few more of those things with iridescent flames burning within them, some of them having lines from which burned that same color. The second was what looked like a huge tower, shattered in half, with the pillars burning with that iridescent flame. Another was a great and tall spirit house, similar to the one in the commune, but this one had great pillars that reached the sky, and a huge roof made of black and white grass that seemed not to be of normal heavenly ground. The pillars also burned with that twirling, wisping iridescent flame. Angela thought to herself that this iridescent flame is the mark of the Iridescent Secret, that of true sorcery.

Eventually, they finished their walking through the dirt path and arrived at a very strange clearing: one that had a bamboo house in the middle of it… and then rows upon rows of herbs growing in concentric circles about it, as if the house was the maestro and the herbs were the musicians. An aisle cut through the herbs, leading up to a bamboo ladder.

Sikata turned to Mattheo and Angela. “Would you like to meet my grandmother?”

Angela and Mattheo didn’t do anything else but nod and smile and agree that yes, they do indeed want to meet her grandmother. Mattheo suddenly realized, like a flash of lightning, what the cooked meat was for.

They walked up the bamboo ladder, cleaned their feet, and went inside. They were greeted by a spider suddenly latching onto their faces, and Angela screamed bloody murder. So did Mattheo, and out of sheer reflex, he tried to hit the spider by flinging a kick at it. Of course, the spider was quick, leaping off of the face right as Mattheo's shinguard slammed into Angela’s face, cracking her nose.

The spider laughed. It laughed little, skittering, mocking laughs. It wasn’t hit by Mattheos lightning-fast kick, and it fell to the ground on a parachute made of its webs. Its skin had an inexplicable okir pattern as if a witch had woven it out of magic and embroidery. Eventually, the spider fell over laughing, and it transmogrified, shifting and undulating until it became an entirely new human.

It was a white-haired lady with darkened skin, bent over, with strong bones but yet drooping skin that was the mark of passage of every elderly person. She wore a simple hooded coat that fell upon her shoulders, and this had the same okir design, of green and red and black, of the spider. Her hair was braided up into a tight, strict bun.

“Ah! Visitors, always a gladness.” She then walked over to her granddaughter as if she hadn’t just caused Angela’s broken nose. “Apo, granddaughter, how are you! Thank you for bringing some food over.”

“I am okay, Lola. Perhaps… they are not, however.” And she gestured at Angela, whose eyes were wide with nonbelief of what had just happened, even as she clasped her nose and mouth to try and prevent the blood now dripping from her broken nose. Mattheo was on his knees, apologizing profusely.

“Ah, yes, of course, of course. Pray forgive me, it has been a while since I’ve met other people in town. But, ah, forgive me also, for I am not a White Healer, but in truth a Black Witch, so I cannot guarantee this healing would suffice.”

Angela blinked, realizing that she was meeting a person who practiced the Black Secret for the first time. Wincing through the pain, she looked up and said, “You practice the Black Secret?”

“When needed. More often I am a Madwoman!” She then went over to a boiling pot and scooped out some juice, which looked like it had strands of coconut in it. “Girlie, if you’re thinking of asking me to mentor you, forget it. I don’t teach, and you don’t have the time.”

“Fine,” said Angela, noticing now that she did want to learn the Secret, even if that wasn’t her intention in the beginning. She winced again as her nose--which was definitely broken--hurt again.

“Come here, girlie. Drink this, and then…” she gave the ladle filled with that green liquid and went over to a table where she picked out a few herbs from within a glass jar. She put that upon the broken nose. “Keep that on your nose for a few seconds.”

Angela nodded. She, along with Mattheo, both sat down on the floor beside the eating table, from where she picked up the herbs. Sikata laid there with her, as her Lola grabbed the meat and placed it on a wooden bowl, even as she grabbed some cooked rice from a pot that burned over a flame.

Sikata smiled apologetically. “Sorry for the nose. I didn’t know my Lola would do something like this.”

“Ah, it’s alright, it’s good that they get injured. Makes them stay on their toes,” she said, as she shoved some rice and meat into her mouth. “And that boy, he’s got quick reflexes.”

Mattheo tried his best to smile to make it seem like he appreciated that compliment.

“Why did they come with you?” asked Sikata’s Lola, staring at her. “They’re new, aren’t they?”

Sikata nodded in response.

“That’s nice. You lot don’t seem to be from here, in Paraiso, eh? Ah, don’t give me that look, it’s not that hard to glean. You’ve got a different accent, your wordings all wrong, and you walk around like nature ought to follow you and not the other way around!” Angela opened her mouth to protest, but the pain from her broken nose stopped any chance of that. “I tell you, change that mindset sooner than later. Nothing is more powerful than nature, especially here in Paraiso. Look all around you. Do you see that spear? Shit, I still remember when the gods fought using that. Every thrust pushed up a new mountain. Weapons burned with the Iridescent Flame, that flame of the Iridescent Secret that was true magic… but of course, all of that is gone now, and there were great wonders made from that strange matter. Technologies and weapons and utilities and sorceries that you wouldn’t even believe, even looking now at heaven! But now that was gone. Of course. Replaced by that broken Trinity magic, which they call ‘The Word’, bah! Blasphemy.”

Esther and Mattheo both looked at Sikata, and Sikata gave them a look that conveyed the thoughts, “She’s rambling, let her.”

“You know, when the Trinity came and turned the beautiful akashic matter of heaven into dirtied steel and bone and pyrite and metal and brass…. I wept. I wept for years straight, for none could match my lamentation. But now I smile. I am happy. Look around you! The natural color of Paraiso has returned: vibrant hues, burning tropical yellows, serpent sneaky greens, eye-burning reds… back then it was all muted monochrome. Even the sky! Where a dead sun already cast its bleached bone-white gaze upon the world, seemed even more lifeless! Damn the Trinity, damn them all into Kawalan.”

“Are you saying… you’ve been here since the death of BATALA?” Mattheo asked, leaning forward, interested. Angela gazed at him with worry, but she herself couldn’t help but be interested as well. If she had been alive since the time of BATALA, then truly she must be a very elderly Lola!

She nodded, finishing a chicken wing. “Aye, I lived through it all. I’m an immortal, the last few.” And suddenly Angela and Mattheo felt the gravity of those words. Their hearts felt like lead, sinking deeper into the lagoon of the soul, as they learned more. Her soul seemed to bear upon them, and suddenly their Gahum mingled with hers, and they knew power, for their Gahum could not touch hers, lest their Gahum be burnt into wisps.

And then they stayed for a few more hours (although hours they thought it not, for the discourse and the tales felt like quick minutes in the eyes of our travelers), and the Witch, who introduced herself as Bakaki, the Madwoman, spoke true. She could not die from natural means, and must be killed, for dying is not the same as being killed.

Furthermore, she spoke of the three eons that she lived through: first was the time right before the Holy Heretic Rebellion. During the Holy Heretic Rebellion were vast technologies that they could not think of today. Walking god idols, nature being worshipped in spirit houses that reached the sky, made of incorruptible gold, sorceries that could create new universes entirely. This was during the time that the perfect Iridescent Secret, that sorcery that rivaled the gods, still existed. Before it was split into the Destructive, Transmutive Black Secret and the Creative, Protective White Secret.

The second time is the time of the Trinity, right before the rising of the Karanduun. This was a time of toil, where color itself seemed to have been sucked out of Paraiso. The vivid hues were removed by stark monochromes. The black brasses and the white steels, the ivory bones and the yellowed teeth and pyrite that encompassed the pieces of machinery of the Trinity. The Trinitarian Architecture, to Angela’s eyes, was very similar to modern-day Metro Manila’s, at least the more commercial areas, with the rich living in vast mansions, kings atop great glass towers like skyscrapers, and the poor having to live in galvanized steel houses which burned awfully hot during the dry season, and they all had to live by the banks of a dirtied river. Here no Soul-Sheathe (soul-sheathe being the name called for the four different beings that had souls, the Mortals, Servants, Fallen, and Engkanto) all tread underneath the iron fist of the Trinity, and they could do nothing but gnash their teeth in anguish unless they joined the ranks of the Trinity. Truly a hell in heaven.

The third time was the time now, the time of the rising of the Karanduun. The time where the Trinity, due to their infighting for they were an Idiot Godhead, has left to continue their Multiversal Conquest, and the Nine Archons, natives to Paraiso but chosen nonetheless to be Trinity’s representatives, took their place. But the Nine Archons constantly bicker and only care for their own power, and so their power dwindled, letting their settlements on the far edges of Heaven be reclaimed by white nature, slowly healing.

And upon this stage, this suddenly recovering Paraiso, the Karanduun arrive.

“There is no hope,” said Bakaki. “But perhaps, even as the flame of BATALA burns within us all, with the coming of the Attainers, one can achieve that Lightning Bolt Title. The Title of Karanduun, which is the name of hope.”

And this proclamation rang true. In the middle of the forest that flanked the south of Datu Purokbawi’s commune, the nature of this ruined heaven grew and choked the old pylons and towers and skyscrapers and buildings of the Trinitarian colonization. Upon broken metal dragons, fire leaves fell orange and crimson. Rivers ran through and cut great brass cannons in half, the size of mountains. Katmon blossomed with their white flowers upon the ruins of an ancient laboratory, whereupon the ghosts known as multo frolic, in their chained afterlives. Malabulak, with its leafless branches covered with burning red flowers, grow upon huge heads which lay on its side, which are visages of the Trinity turned into devil idols.

Around the hut upon which they rested, great trees and bamboo and hardwood and ironwood and mangroves and banana trees and palms flanked the clearing, slightly bowing, as if in obeisance to the holy decree of the Madwoman, in burning rejection of the great Trinity.