Chapter 2: his bloodline revealed
The afternoon sun had already begun to lower when Nille walked beside the old woman down the narrow street that led away from the orphanage. He carried a small cloth bag that held everything he owned, two shirts, a pair of worn slippers, and a small notebook one of the teachers had once given him.
Amparo walked slowly, leaning on her cane, her steps careful but determined.
The distance between the orphanage and her home was not far. After a few minutes of walking through quiet streets and small roadside stalls, they turned into an older neighborhood where the houses seemed to belong to another time. Weathered wooden fences leaned slightly toward the road, and mango trees cast long shadows over cracked pathways.
Finally, Amparo stopped before a small house.
It was old, very old, but it still stood firmly. The wooden walls were faded by decades of sun and rain, and the roof showed patches where repairs had been made over the years. The entire structure was modest, no larger than fifteen square meters, barely more than a single room with a small kitchen corner.
Yet despite its age, it looked sturdy.
Nille studied it quietly.
Amparo noticed his gaze and smiled faintly.
"This," she said gently, "was never meant to be a house."
She opened the door slowly and gestured for him to come inside.
The interior smelled faintly of old wood and dried herbs. A single wooden sofa sat against the wall, its cushions worn but clean. A small table stood nearby, along with a cabinet that looked older than both of them combined.
As Nille stepped in, Amparo closed the door behind them.
"This used to be the living quarters for the housekeeper of my parents," she explained. "The main house stood behind it… much larger than this."
She paused and looked toward the back window where only an empty lot could now be seen beyond a rusted fence.
"It was beautiful once," she said quietly. "The Fajardo estate."
Nille did not speak, but he listened carefully.
Amparo moved toward the small kitchen corner and pulled out a paper bag. From it, she took a piece of bread and handed it to the boy.
"Eat," she said softly. "You must be hungry."
Nille nodded politely.
"Opo."
He sat down on the old wooden sofa, holding the bread carefully as if it were something precious. Then he began to eat, slow but steady, the way children who had known hunger often did.
Amparo lowered herself carefully into a nearby chair, watching him for a moment.
He looked comfortable already.
The small room was quiet except for the soft sound of him chewing.
After a moment, she spoke again.
"My name," she said gently, "is Amparo Pilar Fajardo."
Nille looked up at her with interest but without surprise.
"Lovely name po," he said simply.
Amparo chuckled softly at the innocent reply.
She folded her hands on top of her cane.
"I was not always an old woman living in a small house," she continued softly. "Once… I lived in a place full of people. A very large home, with servants, gardens, horses… even guards."
Amparo's eyes drifted toward the small window, as if she could still see the world that had long vanished.
"There were mango trees that stretched across the courtyard, and the house itself stood tall with wide wooden balconies and capiz-shell windows that caught the morning light. Every morning the sound of footsteps filled the halls—maids sweeping the floors, cooks preparing breakfast, stable hands tending the horses."
She smiled faintly at the memory.
"My father was a respected man in Bulacan then. People came to our gates seeking help, advice, or protection. And my mother…" she paused, her voice softening, "my mother kept the entire household alive with warmth. Even the servants were treated like family."
Nille sat quietly on the old wooden sofa, chewing his bread slowly while listening with careful attention.
Amparo continued.
"I had a large room overlooking the gardens. I remember running through the fields beyond the house, chasing dragonflies with the other children who worked for my parents. I was never meant to live a small life like this one."
She tapped the wooden floor gently with the end of her cane.
"But time changes everything."
Her gaze returned to the tiny room around them, the worn sofa, the cracked wooden table, the thin roof above their heads.
"The house you see now," she said quietly, "this little place… it used to be only the quarters for our housekeeper. A storage room, really. The main house stood just beyond that fence."
She gestured toward the empty lot outside.
"It was taken by time, by war, and by the many changes that came after."
Nille followed her gesture with his eyes.
For a moment he tried to imagine a giant house standing there, full of people and horses and gardens.
But the empty ground made it difficult.
Still, he liked hearing the story.
So he took another bite of bread and asked the question he always asked whenever a story reached a quiet moment.
"What happened next, Lola?"
Nille's eyes widened slightly.
He liked this part already.
Stories.
He shifted on the sofa, sitting cross-legged now, the bread still in his hand as he listened more closely.
Amparo noticed the way his attention sharpened and smiled faintly.
"When I was young," she continued, "this town looked very different. There were soldiers everywhere… war, fear, whispers of rebellion."
She paused, remembering the weight of those days.
"I was not always just Amparo," she said quietly. "There was a time when people knew me by another name."
Nille leaned forward a little.
"What name po?"
Amparo's eyes drifted toward the window as memories from nearly a century ago stirred again.
"Babaylan," she said softly.
Nille blinked.
The word carried mystery even to a ten-year-old boy.
"What does it mean?"
Amparo smiled faintly.
"It means many things," she said. "A healer… a guide… sometimes a warrior."
The boy nodded slowly, clearly fascinated.
He took another bite of bread but kept his eyes on her, waiting for more.
Amparo studied him quietly for a moment.
The way he listened. The way his attention never drifted.
Just like someone else she had once known.
Her voice softened.
"There was also a man," she said after a moment. "A man who came from very far away. From a place across the ocean."
Nille tilted his head.
"America?"
Amparo shook her head slowly.
"No."
Her gaze carried the weight of a lifetime.
"Japan."
The room fell quiet again as the old woman began to speak of a past long buried by time.
And on the worn wooden sofa, Nille Fransisco Tsukuyomi listened with quiet fascination, unaware that the stories he loved so much were not just tales of the past,
They were the beginning of his own.
And on the worn wooden sofa, Nille Fransisco Tsukuyomi listened with quiet fascination, unaware that the stories he loved so much were not just tales of the past—
They were the beginning of his own.
Nille listen but never took her stories into heart , but as the days and month passed him by the stories might be repeated many times but it was consistent , he was able to go to school , face more hardship and fought more and even found work to help his grandmother, he hid the fact to his grandmother that he was seeing things , and at times he feels different , especially whenever he gets into trouble , but e never started any fight, he made a point to never make more problems that will harm his now considered only family , grandma Amparo was getting weaker when Nille SAW A BLACK KITTEN getting tortured by kids so he save it and took it back home,Amparo saw the cat and advice Nille to take good care of this cat as it will bring his good fortun and protection.
The days slowly turned into weeks, and the weeks into months.
Nille listened to Amparo's stories many times. She spoke of old houses that no longer stood, of a war long finished, of soldiers, spirits, and a mysterious man from across the sea. Sometimes the stories changed slightly in the telling, but the heart of them remained the same.
Yet Nille never truly took them to heart.
To him, they were simply stories—interesting, sometimes exciting, but distant, like tales from a book that had nothing to do with the real struggles of his everyday life.
Life itself demanded far more of his attention.
He went to school each morning, wearing the same two uniforms Amparo carefully washed by hand. The classroom was crowded, the lessons difficult at times, and some of the other boys still liked to test his patience. Fights still happened now and then, though Nille never started them.
That was something he promised himself.
He would never be the cause of trouble that might harm the only family he had left.
Because now, in his heart, Amparo was his grandmother.
After school, Nille often found small jobs around the neighborhood. He helped carry sacks of rice for shop owners, swept floors in roadside stores, or ran errands for elderly neighbors who paid him with a few coins or leftover food. He never told Amparo about most of these jobs.
She was already weak, and he didn't want her worrying about him.
But there was another secret he kept hidden from her.
Sometimes… he saw things.
Small things at first.
A shadow that moved when nothing was there.A faint whisper when the room was empty.Once, he could swear he saw something like a flicker of light dart between trees while walking home at dusk.
And there were moments—especially when he was in danger—when something inside him changed.
His body reacted faster.His instincts sharpened.His strength felt… different.
It always passed quickly, leaving him confused and unsettled.
But he never told Amparo.
He didn't want to frighten her.
So he kept the secret buried, focusing instead on protecting the fragile peace they had built together.
As time passed, Amparo grew weaker.
The years weighed heavily on her now. Some days she could barely walk across the small house without stopping to rest. Nille quietly took on more chores, cooking simple meals, fetching water, and keeping the little house clean.
One late afternoon, while walking home from school, Nille heard something that made him stop.
A sharp, frightened sound.
He followed the noise down a narrow alley near a cluster of abandoned buildings.
There, he saw three boys gathered around something on the ground.
They were laughing.
One of them held a stick.
And at their feet was a small black kitten, its fur matted with dirt, trying desperately to escape as the boys poked and frightened it.
Something in Nille snapped.
"Hey!"
The boys turned.
Nille stepped forward slowly, his eyes cold.
"Leave it alone."
One of the boys sneered.
"Or what?"
The next few moments were quick.
Nille didn't throw the first punch, but when the boy shoved him, he moved with the same sharp instinct he had always carried. Within seconds, the bullies were scrambling away, surprised and bruised.
Nille knelt down and gently picked up the trembling kitten.
It was small enough to fit in both his hands.
"Okay… okay…" he murmured softly.
The kitten looked up at him with wide golden eyes.
He carried it home carefully.
When he pushed open the door to the little house, Amparo was sitting on her chair near the window, resting as she often did.
She looked up slowly.
"What do you have there, Nille?"
The boy stepped closer and revealed the kitten.
"I found it outside," he said. "Some kids were hurting it."
Amparo studied the small black creature quietly.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she smiled faintly.
"Ah…"
She nodded slowly.
"A black cat."
Nille looked at her curiously.
"Is that bad?"
Amparo shook her head.
"No, my child."
Her voice carried a quiet certainty.
"In many old traditions, black cats are not bad luck at all."
She reached out with a trembling hand and gently stroked the kitten's head. The small animal purred softly.
"They are guardians," she said. "Bringers of good fortune… and sometimes protectors against things we cannot see."
Nille blinked.
He glanced down at the kitten again.
Amparo leaned back into her chair.
"Take good care of it," she said gently.
"It may bring you good fortune and protection."
Nille nodded seriously.
"I will."
The kitten curled quietly in his arms as the evening light filtered through the window.
Outside, the wind stirred softly through the trees.
And though neither of them realized it yet, the small black kitten had just stepped into a story far older, and far more mysterious, than either of them could imagine.
A year passed quietly, yet everything about Nille Fransisco Tsukuyomi seemed to change.
At eleven years old, he had grown taller, stronger, and far more confident. The rough boy from the orphanage had hardened into someone others respected. No bully in school could stand against him anymore. A few had tried—usually new students who had not yet heard the stories—but those attempts ended quickly.
Nille never chased fights.
But when trouble came, he ended it.
Teachers often spoke of him with a mix of admiration and curiosity. He was disciplined, strangely calm for a boy his age, and fiercely protective of smaller students. When a problem arose in the schoolyard, many teachers knew that Nille was often the one who had already settled it before they arrived.
He had become both kind and harsh when needed, a balance that made people respect him.
At home, life with Amparo continued quietly.
The old woman spent more time sitting by the window now, her body growing weaker with each passing season. Yet her mind remained sharp, and her voice still carried the strength of someone who had once commanded warriors and spirits alike.
Her stories continued.
Night after night, she spoke of the past—of war, of old houses and hidden bloodlines, of spirits that once walked openly among people. Nille listened, just as he always had.
But something had changed.
The stories no longer felt like simple tales.
One afternoon, while running errands in town, Nille overheard two elderly men speaking near a small store.
"…that old woman? Fajardo blood," one of them whispered.
"The Babaylan," the other replied quietly.
Nille said nothing, but the words stayed with him.
Later that night, when he returned home, he saw Amparo sitting in her usual chair near the lamp. In her hands was the old letter she often read in silence, the paper worn with age.
As Nille passed by, she looked up and gave him a faint smile.
"You are my kin," she said gently, as she often did.
For the first time, Nille understood what those words truly meant.
Yet he never confronted her about it.
Some truths, he felt, would reveal themselves in time.
Meanwhile, another passion began to grow in his life.
When Japanese animation began sweeping through television and online entertainment, Nille quickly became fascinated. But he soon grew frustrated waiting for English or Tagalog translations.
So he did something most children his age never considered.
He learned the language himself.
Hours turned into months spent studying Japanese. Soon he could read simple text, then entire sentences, then conversations.
But he didn't stop there.
Once he discovered how languages worked, curiosity drove him further. He spent long afternoons inside the school library, exploring books on other languages, history, and mythology.
Teachers noticed the hunger in him.
A quiet, relentless desire to learn.
Yet despite his love for books, Nille was not the kind of boy who could stay indoors forever.
He loved adventure.
Behind the school grounds stretched a patch of thick forest, a wild area most students avoided. Teachers warned them not to wander too far inside, but Nille often walked along its edges when he had free time.
It felt peaceful there.
The wind moving through tall trees.The smell of earth and leaves.The quiet rustle of unseen animals.
On one particular afternoon, the sky had already begun turning gold as the sun lowered toward the horizon.
Nille stepped carefully along a narrow path he had discovered weeks earlier.
"Luna?" he called softly.
The black cat he had rescued a year ago often wandered freely, sometimes disappearing for hours before returning home at night. But today she had slipped out earlier than usual.
He pushed aside a low branch and stepped deeper into the forest.
Then he froze.
Not far ahead, standing on a large moss-covered rock, was Luna.
Her black fur seemed to absorb the fading sunlight.
"Hey," Nille said quietly. "There you are."
But Luna wasn't looking at him.
She stared toward the deeper part of the forest.
Then something impossible happened.
The cat's body shimmered.
At first Nille thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. The air around Luna seemed to ripple like heat above pavement.
Then the shape of the cat began to stretch.
The small feline frame grew taller.
Limbs lengthened.
Black fur folded inward like dissolving shadow.
Within seconds, where the cat had stood, a young girl now stood barefoot on the rock.
Her hair was long and black like midnight, falling loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes glowed faintly gold, the same color Luna's had always been.
She looked about Nille's age.
For a moment, the two simply stared at each other.
Nille's mind struggled to understand what he was seeing.
"Luna…?"
The girl blinked.
Then her eyes widened in shock.
Without a word, she leaped down from the rock and ran.
Straight into the deeper forest.
"Wait!"
Nille's heart pounded as he chased after her.
Branches snapped beneath his feet as he pushed forward through thick undergrowth. The girl moved quickly, slipping between trees like she knew the forest far better than he did.
The sky above darkened as the sun sank lower.
Soon the golden light of afternoon faded into the cold blue of early evening.
Still Nille followed.
Deeper.
Further than he had ever gone before.
Ahead of him, the girl vanished between two towering trees.
When Nille reached the spot moments later, he stopped abruptly.
The forest around him had grown unnaturally quiet.
The wind no longer moved.
The last light of the sun barely reached the ground.
And somewhere in the deepening shadows ahead…
Something moved.
Nille pushed deeper into the forest, following the path where the girl—where Luna—had disappeared.
But after only a few minutes, something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
He slowed his steps.
The forest behind the school had never been this large. He had walked its edges many times before, even explored some of its narrow trails. At most, it should only stretch a few hundred meters before reaching farmland or another road.
Yet now…
He had been walking for what felt like twenty minutes.
And the forest only grew thicker.
The trees rose higher than he remembered, their trunks twisted and ancient. The air felt colder, heavier. Even the ground beneath his feet seemed darker, covered in thick moss and tangled roots that did not belong to the familiar woods behind the school.
Nille looked back.
The path he had come from was gone.
Just trees.
Rows and rows of silent trees.
A strange chill crawled along the back of his neck.
It felt like someone—or something—was watching him.
Not just one pair of eyes.
Many.
Hidden somewhere in the shadows between the trunks.
Nille clenched his fists slightly, steadying his breath.
Am I being bewitched? he wondered.
Grandma Amparo's stories drifted through his mind.
Stories about forests where the spirit world overlapped with the human world.
He swallowed and kept walking.
Then suddenly—
Something flickered in front of his face.
Nille stopped instantly.
Hovering in the air just a few feet away was something… impossible.
It was tiny.
Barely six inches tall.
It looked almost human—two small arms, two legs, a head with delicate features—but its body glowed faintly like pale moonlight. From its back sprouted thin, shimmering wings that looked exactly like those of a dragonfly, beating so fast they hummed in the still air.
The creature hovered crookedly, darting left and right in strange angles that defied normal movement.
And it looked angry.
Its tiny face twisted into a scowl as it stared at Nille.
Nille blinked slowly.
"Well… that's new."
Curiosity outweighed fear.
He slowly raised his hand.
"Hey," he said quietly.
The tiny creature tilted its head, as if confused by his calm reaction.
Nille leaned forward slightly and reached out.
"Can I touch—"
Before he could finish the sentence—
ZIP!
The tiny being shot into the air like a spark of lightning.
"Hey!"
Nille laughed softly and broke into a run.
The creature zigzagged wildly between tree branches, moving in erratic loops and sharp turns. But despite its speed, Nille noticed something unusual.
He could see its pattern.
The way it curved left before rising.The way it dipped suddenly before darting forward.
His eyes tracked it easily.
Instead of chasing wildly, he simply followed the direction it was leading.
"Not that fast," Nille muttered.
The tiny creature glanced back mid-flight, clearly annoyed.
But it kept moving.
And Nille kept following.
Soon the dense forest began to thin.
The ground sloped upward slightly, roots and stones forming a natural path that led toward a strange glow ahead.
The dragonfly-winged creature darted through the last row of trees and vanished.
Nille pushed through the branches—
—and suddenly stopped.
The forest ended.
He stood at the edge of a cliff.
A cold wind rushed upward past him as he looked down.
What he saw made his breath catch.
Below the cliff stretched an enormous hidden valley, far larger than the forest above it should ever allow. Strange glowing plants dotted the landscape like scattered lanterns. Massive trees with silver bark rose from the valley floor, their branches glowing faintly under a sky that looked… different.
Too dark.
Too deep.
As if twilight lived here permanently.
Small lights drifted through the air below like floating stars.
And in the distance—
He could see movement.
Shapes.
Structures.
A place.
Not a city.
Not a village.
But something ancient.
Something not meant for the human world.
Nille stood at the edge of the cliff, wind tugging at his clothes, staring down into a hidden realm that should not exist behind his school.
Somewhere far below—
A faint familiar voice echoed.
"Meow."
Luna.
And suddenly Nille realized something that made his heart pound with both fear and excitement.
Nille stepped back from the edge of the cliff, his heart still pounding from what he had seen below.
The drop was enormous.
Loose stones tumbled over the edge as he nudged them with his shoe, and several seconds passed before he heard them strike anything below.
Jumping down would be suicide.
Even someone as stubborn as Nille understood that much.
He forced himself to calm down and began scanning the surrounding area the way he had learned to do whenever trouble appeared—slowly, carefully, observing everything.
A few meters to his left, partly hidden by a cluster of tall twisted trees, he noticed something.
A narrow path.
It curved downward along the side of the cliff like a winding staircase carved by time and erosion. The trail looked rough, steep, and barely wide enough for one person, but it was clearly the only way down.
Before moving, Nille looked up at the sky again.
Or what he thought was the sky.
The fog was growing thicker now, drifting across the cliffside in pale gray waves. The air felt colder than anything he had ever felt in Bulacan. A strange damp chill clung to the wind.
Nille frowned.
"There's no fog like this in the Philippines," he muttered to himself.
Even at eleven years old, he understood enough about his surroundings to know something was wrong.
His chest tightened slightly as a realization settled into his mind.
I'm not in Bulacan anymore.
The forest behind the school… the valley below… the strange sky…
None of it belonged to the world he knew.
Strangely, fear was not the first thing he felt.
His biggest worry was something far more practical.
What if I can't go back?
He thought of the small house.
Of the worn wooden sofa.
Of Grandma Amparo waiting by the window.
That thought alone pushed him into motion.
Nille turned toward the narrow trail and stepped carefully onto it.
"If Luna came this way," he murmured, "maybe she knows how to get out."
That was the reason he told himself.
Follow the cat.
Find a way back.
But deep down, another truth stirred quietly in his chest.
A part of him, the same part that loved wandering forests, learning languages, and chasing mysteries, felt something else entirely.
Excitement.
Adventure.
The valley below called to that part of him like a story waiting to be opened.
Nille gripped a low branch for balance as he slowly made his way down the winding path.
The fog thickened with every step.
Soon the cliff above disappeared behind him.
And the deeper he descended, the stronger the strange feeling in the air became.
It was the same sensation he sometimes felt when shadows moved strangely… when whispers echoed where none should exist.
The narrow path along the cliffside was little more than a scar cut into ancient stone. Nille placed each step carefully, gripping roots and branches as he descended. The earth beneath his feet felt older than the soil of the forests he knew, harder, almost polished in places as if countless travelers had once passed this way long ago.
Yet there were no footprints.
No broken branches.
No signs that anyone had used this path in years.
Fog rolled along the cliff like slow-moving water. It clung to the rocks and wrapped itself around the trees, swallowing sound and distance. The deeper Nille went, the quieter the world became. Even the rustling of leaves seemed muted, as though the air itself absorbed every noise.
For a moment he stopped and looked back up.
The way he had come was gone.
Not hidden.
Gone.
The cliff wall above him had vanished behind a wall of silver-gray mist so thick it looked like a living curtain. The school, the town, the world he had known only an hour ago—all of it might as well have been on the other side of the ocean.
Nille swallowed and kept walking.
Step by step, the fog began to thin.
At first it loosened into drifting strands that brushed against his shoulders. Then it slowly unraveled into faint ribbons that slid through the trees like ghosts retreating into the earth.
Light began to appear below him.
But it wasn't sunlight.
It shimmered softly in hues of pale blue, violet, and faint gold.
When Nille finally stepped off the last bend of the path and onto the valley floor, the fog parted completely.
And the world opened before him.
Nille stood still, unable to move.
The valley stretched far beyond anything that should have existed beneath that small forest behind his school. The land spread outward like a hidden continent, vast and wild, cradled between towering cliffs that curved around it like the walls of an enormous bowl.
Above him, the sky was not the sky he knew.
It was darker, deeper—an endless twilight where faint stars shimmered even though the horizon glowed faintly as if dusk had been frozen in time.
The air felt alive.
Every breath carried the scent of unfamiliar flowers and damp stone.
The ground beneath his feet was covered in soft moss that glowed faintly under the dim light, casting gentle ripples of green illumination wherever he stepped. Strange plants grew everywhere—long curling vines with translucent leaves, clusters of flowers that opened and closed slowly as if breathing, and towering mushrooms whose caps shone like lanterns in the dim valley.
But the trees were what truly captured his attention.
They were enormous.
Far larger than any tree he had ever seen in the forests of Bulacan.
Their trunks were smooth and pale, almost silver in color, rising hundreds of feet into the twilight sky. Their branches spread outward in vast, delicate patterns that caught the strange light and reflected it downward like mirrors.
From those branches hung threads of glowing pollen that drifted gently through the air like floating embers.
Some of them brushed past Nille's face, warm and harmless.
The valley itself seemed to glow with its own quiet heartbeat.
In the distance he could see water moving—rivers winding through the land in luminous streams that reflected the sky like liquid glass. Small lakes shimmered between clusters of trees, their surfaces perfectly still except for the occasional ripple caused by something moving beneath.
There were structures too.
Not buildings exactly.
More like ancient shapes carved into the land itself—stone arches half-swallowed by vines, spiral towers grown from tree trunks, and bridges formed from living roots stretching across glowing streams.
Nothing about it felt human.
Nothing looked built with tools or machines.
Everything seemed to have grown naturally, as if the land itself had shaped it.
And there were sounds.
Soft ones.
Whispers of wings moving in the distance.
The faint chime of unseen insects.
A distant call that sounded almost like singing carried by the wind.
Nille turned slowly in a circle, his mind struggling to understand what he was seeing.
The forest behind his school could never have hidden something like this.
It was impossible.
Yet he was standing in it.
A thought slowly formed in his mind.
Did I…
He looked up at the strange twilight sky again.
Did I enter a different world?
A place no human had ever seen.
A hidden realm that had existed quietly beside the human world for centuries—perhaps longer.
The stories Amparo had told him flickered through his memory like turning pages.
Spirits.
Guardians.
Realms that existed beyond the sight of ordinary people.
Nille felt the air shift gently around him, as if the valley itself had just noticed his presence.
Somewhere deeper in the glowing forest, a familiar sound echoed again.
"Meow."
Nille's eyes lit up.
"Luna."
The black cat's voice carried from somewhere ahead, beyond the glowing trees and winding streams.
Nille took a slow breath.
Fear still lived somewhere in the back of his mind.
But it was no longer the strongest feeling.
Wonder had taken its place.
He stepped forward into the luminous valley, the moss glowing softly beneath his feet, as the hidden world slowly revealed itself around him.
The valley had been quiet—so quiet that even Nille's breathing sounded loud to his own ears.
Then the silence shattered.
"MEEEOW!"
The cry tore through the glowing forest like a blade.
But this time Luna's voice was not playful or curious.
It was filled with fear.
Panic.
Pain.
Nille's head snapped toward the sound.
"Luna!"
Without thinking, he ran.
His feet pounded against the mossy ground as he rushed through glowing plants and twisting roots. Branches brushed against his arms, but he barely felt them. The valley that had moments ago felt mysterious and beautiful now seemed darker, more dangerous.
"Luna! Where are you?!"
Another cry echoed through the trees.
Closer.
Nille burst through a cluster of silver-barked trunks—and stopped so suddenly he nearly stumbled forward.
What he saw made his mind struggle to understand.
At first it looked like a scene from an old, broken movie.
The air ahead of him flickered.
Images faded in and out as if reality itself were glitching.
For a split second he saw nothing.
Then the scene snapped back into view again.
A massive figure stood in a small clearing.
The creature was easily ten feet tall, its body shaped like a humanoid giant but far more monstrous. Dark thick skin, with boney spikes stretched behind its back like torn shadows, folding and unfolding slowly. Curved horns rose from its head like blackened blades.
Its skin seemed almost stone-like, cracked with faint glowing lines that pulsed faintly with energy.
And in its enormous hand
It held a child.
The creature's long fingers were wrapped tightly around the child's throat, lifting them off the ground.
The child struggled weakly, small legs kicking in the air.
Nille's eyes locked onto the child's face.
Golden eyes.
A black tail swayed weakly behind them.
And in that instant, something deep in his chest screamed the truth.
Luna.
The giant creature spoke, its voice deep and distorted like thunder echoing through water.
But the language meant nothing to Nille.
The sounds twisted in strange syllables he had never heard before.
The air around the two figures flickered again.
The scene faded—
Returned—
Faded again.
As if Nille was only seeing fragments of something happening in another layer of reality.
But one thing was clear.
Luna was dying.
Her small hands clawed weakly at the creature's grip, her golden eyes fading as the pressure around her throat tightened.
Something inside Nille exploded.
He didn't think.
He didn't hesitate.
He simply moved.
"No!"
His eyes darted to the ground and he grabbed the first thing he could find—a rough granite stone, about the size of a baseball.
Without stopping his run, he hurled it with all the strength he had.
The rock cut through the glowing air—
And struck the creature's head with a sharp crack.
The giant's horned head jerked slightly.
Its glowing eyes turned slowly toward Nille.
For the first time, the monster noticed him.
Nille kept running.
"LET HER GO!"
His legs pumped harder as he closed the distance.
But something was wrong.
The closer he ran toward the clearing, the harder it became to move.
It felt like invisible water pushing against his body.
His steps slowed.
His feet sank slightly into the moss.
The air itself had become heavy.
Another step.
Harder.
Another.
Harder still.
Soon he could barely move at all.
His arms strained as if gravity had suddenly doubled.
"What…?!"
He pushed forward with everything he had, but it felt like hitting an invisible wall.
The giant creature watched him silently now.
Its eyes glowed brighter.
The pressure around Nille intensified, pinning him several meters away from the clearing.
His body refused to move any closer.
Yet the monster's grip around Luna tightened again.
The girl's struggles weakened.
Her golden eyes dimmed.
"No…!"
Nille's fists clenched as anger and helplessness burned inside him.
He could see her.
He could hear her choking.
But something in this strange world refused to let him reach her.
The horned creature spoke again, its voice cold and ancient.
Still in that strange language.
Still impossible to understand.
But its meaning was clear.
To the monster,
The human boy struggling in the invisible barrier meant nothing.
And Luna's life was slipping away in its grip.
Nille's heart slammed against his ribs, wild and unrelenting. Panic and fury tangled into a single, burning resolve. He grabbed the next rock he could find, hefting it with both hands, and hurled it at the towering creature.
It passed through, ghost-like, as if the monster and Luna were woven from shadow and mist rather than flesh and bone. Nille's stomach sank, his pulse pounding in his ears. He snatched another rock, larger this time, gritting his teeth as he swung with every ounce of strength.
Again. Ghost.
His arms trembled, sweat stinging his eyes, and yet the golden eyes of Luna staring back at him, now dull, weak, almost lifeless, ignited a spark inside him he hadn't known existed. A rage, raw and ancient, surged through his veins.
He grabbed a smaller stone this time, no larger than his fist, and threw it, not with force, but with intention.
Time seemed to slow as the rock spun through the air. It struck, solid against the creature's arm.
The ten-foot being froze. Its wings shuddered, and it twisted its horned head toward him, eyes widening in a mix of shock and confusion. For the first time, the monster saw him, not just as a human, but as something else. Something that could interact with its kind.
Nille's chest heaved, his breathing ragged. He didn't understand what had just happened, how a mere human throw could connect, how the shadowlike creature reacted, but something deep in him had awakened, a pulse of strength and purpose that did not belong to ordinary children.
And in that moment, the forest seemed to shiver. The glowing moss rippled. The fog twitched. The air itself hummed with attention.
The creature's gaze held him now, its head tilting slightly, a faint flicker of something almost like curiosity in its inhuman eyes.
For Nille, fear still lingered, but it had been replaced, at least in part, by power. A sense that he was no longer just a child lost in a hidden world. He was something different, something that could challenge even beings no human had ever dared face.
And somewhere, deep within him, a voice whispered, unseen, untold, ancient:
"You are of us. And you are ready."
Nille's arm froze mid-swing, the tension in his body snapping like a taut string. His small fist tightened around the rock, his knuckles white, heart hammering in the eerie silence of the glowing forest. He felt the creature's gaze still fixed on him, a pulse of incomprehensible power radiating from its massive frame.
Then, a frail, trembling hand grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked him backward. The sudden pull sent him stumbling onto the mossy ground, the rock clattering from his grip.
"Nille! Stop!" a voice rasped, shaking yet sharp with authority.
He blinked, disoriented, and saw her: Granny Amparo, her back hunched with age, her white hair plastered to her face from sweat and the damp forest air, her eyes blazing with a mixture of fear and resolve.
"You're too young… too unready for this!" she hissed, clutching him tightly.
Nille struggled to speak, his chest heaving. "Granny… she, Luna,she's"
Nille's chest heaved as he tried to process her words. Granny Amparo's frail hands gripped his shoulders, anchoring him against the oppressive weight of the forest.
"That cat… it still has five more lives to spare," she continued, her voice trembling yet sharp. "Every time it tries to return home, that thing—that ghastly creature—attacks. It's killed your Luna four times already."
Nille's eyes widened, disbelief colliding with instinctual fear. "Four… times? And she… she came back?"
Amparo nodded, her gaze fierce despite her age. "Yes. That cat you saved… she is no ordinary creature. A Kiwig, perhaps… or an upper Enkanto. I am not yet certain. Many of these beings can shapeshift, and hide among humans, and linger on the mortal plane unnoticed. But Luna… she feels different. She is kind, caring, and… she wants to return to her own kind."
Her eyes flicked toward the shadowed clearing below. "But that Sarangay, that monster, is stopping her. Do you see him? Do you understand?"
Nille squinted, finally taking in the creature in its entirety: a towering, horned humanoid, muscled and cruel, with eyes like burning coal and a presence that pressed down like stone. Its hooves scraped the ground as it loomed over Luna, whose small form seemed impossibly fragile against the Sarangay's bulk.
Amparo crouched slightly, lowering her voice. "A Sarangay… like the minotaur in Greek myths. Strong, relentless, and tied to the forest in ways humans cannot comprehend. It does not fight for malice, but for dominance and possession. If Luna returns home, it will stop at nothing to drag her back, or destroy her. You must… you must stop her from going back… at least until she is ready."
Nille swallowed hard, fists clenching at his sides. His adventure, his curiosity, his defiance—all of it now collided with the weight of responsibility. This was no longer a game, no longer a forest for exploring or playing at heroics. The lives of a being beyond his comprehension, and perhaps his own destiny, rested on what he would do next.
Amparo's pale, aged hands rested on his shoulders. "Listen to me, Nille. You are stronger than you know, and your heart is what binds you to her. But your mind… your mind must guide your strength. Do not act recklessly, or everything will be lost."
The boy's gaze shifted to Luna, eyes golden even in the fading light, and for the first time, he felt the full gravity of the hidden world his grandmother had been preparing him for.
Granny Amparo's voice softened, though the weight of urgency never left it. "Tomorrow," she said, her gnarled fingers brushing a stray lock of Nille's hair back from his forehead, "look for that cat again. She will be lying somewhere, hurt. Nurse her back to health, and talk to her as if she were a person. Explain… explain that going back home would end her life. Then… tell her you will find a way to help her."
Nille blinked, confusion clouding his young mind. How could a cat understand words? How could he possibly reason with something so otherworldly?
But the memory of what he had just seen, the grotesque Sarangay, the ghostly shiftings of reality, Luna's lifeless leaps, made the fear in Granny Amparo's eyes real. It was a fear that spoke of truths he could not yet comprehend but instinctively understood. He could feel it in his chest, in the pulse at his temples: this was connected to him, to the strange awareness stirring inside him, the glimpses of things no ordinary child could see.
Nille's gaze met hers, and he saw it there: dread, worry, and the weight of secrets that had stretched through generations. For a moment, he felt the gravity of it all—the legacy he carried, the unseen forces at play, and the responsibility now thrust onto his small shoulders.
He swallowed hard and nodded, his voice firm despite the trembling of his heart. "I understand, Granny. I… I'll do it."
Amparo let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her frail hands rested against his cheeks for a heartbeat longer. "Good. Remember… be careful. Listen to your instincts, but let your heart guide you as well. The world you see now… it will only grow stranger."
Nille turned and made his way back home through the thickening forest, each step heavy with thought but resolute. He did not doubt Granny Amparo's words. That look in her eyes, the fear and dread that shimmered even through the dim evening light, told him everything he needed to know: she had seen the horrors of the hidden world before him, and now she trusted him to face them in her stead.
As the shadows of the forest swallowed him, Nille felt a curious mixture of fear, determination, and a spark of anticipation. He was stepping into a life that would demand more than courage—more than strength. It would demand everything he had, and more. And somehow, deep down, he knew he was ready.
As they walked side by side along the narrow, winding path from the small forest clearing behind his school toward their worn but sturdy house, Nille kept his small hand pressed against Granny Amparo's. The forest seemed quieter now, the glowing flora dimming as if acknowledging their passage, and the lingering tension from the encounter still pulsed in his chest.
Granny Amparo's voice broke the silence, low and deliberate. "Nille… there is something you must understand about yourself," she said, her grip tightening slightly on his hand. "What you felt out there, the ability to see what others cannot, to sense things beyond the ordinary… that is your inheritance."
Nille frowned, confusion and curiosity fighting in his mind. "Inheritance? What do you mean, Granny?"
Amparo sighed, her eyes distant as if looking into a memory only she could see. "You are part of a bloodline that carries the sight, the ability to perceive the unseen. You can feel things, understand things that ordinary people cannot. That is why you saw Luna… why you felt the Sarangay and the danger it posed."
Nille's heart thumped. "So… I'm… like you? Like, like the stories you told me?"
"In a way," she replied, her voice a mix of reverence and caution. "The power flows quietly, sometimes sleeping for decades, until it finds the one ready to awaken it. And you, Nille… you have always been ready, even if you did not know it. But this is not a gift without responsibility. Every sight, every feeling… it is a thread connecting you to the hidden world. And the hidden world… can be merciless."
Nille tightened his hand around hers, processing the weight of her words. He remembered the fear in Luna's golden eyes, the monstrous Sarangay towering above, the impossibility of what he had just witnessed. And now, for the first time, he understood that it wasn't an accident, he was meant to see these things, to face them, to protect those who could not protect themselves.
Granny Amparo's voice softened, almost a whisper. "Your heart is strong, Nille. That is why I have brought you here, why I have supported you the way I have. i wanted you to be free from this burden, but unlike your father , that didn't awaken this seed
you need more time to understand your gift and control it fully … than after you can decide what kind of guardian you wish to be."
Nille nodded slowly, a strange calm settling over him amidst the residual fear. He looked up at the towering trees and the darkening sky beyond them and felt, for the first time, a spark of clarity. The world was far bigger, far stranger than he had ever imagined, but he would face it, and he would not turn away.
As their small house appeared through the thinning mist, Nille realized that this revelation was only the beginning. And Granny Amparo… she was not just a grandmother anymore. She was a guide, a teacher, and perhaps the only link to a legacy that he had yet to fully comprehend.
Granny Amparo's steps slowed as they approached the small, worn house, the forest behind them fading into shadows. She glanced down at Nille, her eyes both sharp and amused despite the lingering fear.
"Listen carefully, anak," she began, her voice steady, "what you call your 'third eye'… it's not some extra eyeball popping out of your forehead, like the stories in those flashy movies. No, no. It's just another kind of perception, an extra sense that allows you to see, feel, and understand what most people cannot. That's all."
Nille frowned, still trying to grasp the weight of her words. "So… it's not… always open?"
"Exactly," Granny Amparo said with a small chuckle, shaking her head. "Many have this misunderstood notion that the third eye is some permanent, uncontrollable window into other realms. It's not. You can open it, close it, and focus it, but only if you learn to control it. It's a gift, yes… but one that comes with discipline. Only a few blessed, truly gifted people ever get this. And you… you are one of them."
Nille blinked, staring at her, trying to digest it all.
Amparo smiled faintly, teasing now despite the serious lesson. "You probably thought I was rambling on about ghosts, spirits, my past life and otherworldly being i used to hunt , because I was insane, didn't you?"
Nille hesitated, then shook his head.
"Ah, kids these days!" she said, laughing softly. "No, anak… I am simply trying to teach you to see clearly, even when the world around you is clouded by lies, fear, and shadows. And trust me, one day, you'll need this more than you realize."
Her words hung in the air as they stepped into the modest home. The faint scent of aged wood and dust greeted them, but for Nille, the real weight of the lesson settled deep in his chest, an understanding that his life was far larger and far stranger than he had ever imagined.
Granny Amparo sighed, settling into the worn wooden chair as Nille perched on the edge of the sofa, his small hands folded over his knees. The dim light of their modest home cast long shadows across the room, but it could not hide the seriousness in her eyes.
Amparo paused, letting the weight of her words sink in, her gaze fixed on the worn wooden floor. "If you're wondering why I didn't come for you sooner, why I, your great-grandmother, didn't take you in, it would have… well, it would have made me seem insane. Technically, I was gone, vanished, almost dead to the world. I couldn't just return as if nothing had happened."
Granny Amparo's lips twitched into a faint, weary smile as she steadied herself on her cane. "Ah, anak… eleven, yes, but with the mind of someone far older than your years. That's why I knew you could understand, even when the truth is harsh and unfair."
Nille kept his eyes forward, matching each of her careful steps, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. "I know, Granny. I might be eleven, but I'm not stupid. I can read between the lines, too."
Amparo let out a soft, almost sighing chuckle, shaking her head gently. "Yes, anak… and that sharpness of yours… it will serve you well. You have to remember, sometimes knowing too much too soon is a burden, but the world will need your clarity one day."
Nille's small hand brushed briefly against hers, steadying her as they continued down the narrow path toward their worn but sturdy home. In that simple gesture, a silent promise passed between them: he would carry her guidance, her stories, and her legacy with him, no matter what lay ahead.
A flicker of relief crossed Amparo's face, though her eyes still carried the weight of decades. "Ah, anak… you always were sharper than your age suggested. That's why I knew you could handle the truth, and why I trusted you to walk your own path, even when the world tried to crush it."
For the first time, Nille felt the hidden threads of his family's past stretching toward him, not as a burden, but as a map, guiding him toward something far greater than the orphanage, far greater than himself.
Nille's brows furrowed, but he stayed silent, listening intently.
The path narrowed further as they neared the outskirts of the small clearing behind Nille's school, the tall grasses brushing against their legs and the faint scent of damp earth rising with each step. The last rays of sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting long, shifting shadows across the ground. Nille tightened his grip on Granny Amparo's frail hand, careful not to let her falter on the uneven terrain.
"The forest… it's not as it seems, anak," Amparo murmured, her voice low but steady. "There are places within it where the world bends, where the rules of men don't reach. You've already seen a glimpse of it today. That… that is why you must learn control, patience, and understanding before curiosity alone carries you too far."
Nille nodded, the earlier panic and adrenaline from the forest encounter slowly giving way to a quiet resolve. "I understand, Granny," he said softly. "I'll… I'll do what you said. I'll protect Luna. I'll be careful."
Amparo gave a short, approving nod, though her hand trembled slightly. "Good, anak… and remember, sometimes protection means knowing when to step back, too. Strength is not only in your fists but in your mind, your heart, and your spirit."
As the forest thinned, the familiar outline of their small house emerged through the trees. Though worn by time, the structure appeared sturdy, its faded wooden panels and rusted roof speaking of decades of quiet endurance. The faint scent of dried wood and old herbs drifted on the breeze, a comforting reminder of home. Nille's eyes widened slightly as he took in the small dwelling—simple, unassuming, yet filled with the weight of generations past.
Amparo guided him to the doorway, the hinges creaking in protest as she pushed it open. "Here we are, anak… this is where you'll rest for tonight. It's nothing grand, but it has always been a place of safety and shelter. Part of the main house, long ago. Once, it served the keepers of my family estate… now, it will serve us."
Nille stepped inside, the wooden floor cool beneath his bare feet, the dim light from a single oil lamp flickering against the walls. He glanced back at Granny Amparo, who slowly lowered herself into the old chair by the table, her cane resting across her knees.
"Eat first," she said, motioning to the simple bread she had laid out. "Then we will talk more. There is much you need to understand, and little by little, you will. Today was only the beginning, anak… only the beginning."
Nille settled onto the worn sofa, the bread in his hands, and looked around the small house, feeling the weight of her words sink deeper. Outside, the forest whispered softly, as if echoing the promise that their journey together ,through hidden worlds, dangers, and the legacies of the past—was only just beginning.
Granny Amparo's eyes softened as she reached for the final item, the cursed scarf. "Among all of these," she said, her voice carrying a reverent weight, "this one… is my favorite. It holds a secret most people could never imagine. It can store items, shield its wearer, and… bind itself to its owner. All it needs is a drop of your blood."
Nille watched quietly, his small brows furrowed in curiosity, yet he sensed the gravity in her words.
"The weapons," she continued, gesturing toward the barong, knife, and knuckle, "may look impressive, but this scarf, this gift, has saved me more times than I can count. It is more than cloth; it is protection, guard, and a tether to powers unseen."
With practiced hands, she lifted the scarf and, in one smooth movement, draped it around Nille's neck. Then, without hesitation, she took a small needle, pricked the side of his hand, and let a tiny drop of blood fall onto the fabric.
Nille flinched only slightly, the prick surprisingly mild compared to the punches and scrapes he had endured in the orphanage. He instinctively understood Granny's intention, a quiet trust passing between them.
As the blood touched the scarf, it seemed to come alive. Threads shifted gently, wrapping around him like a second skin. He felt a subtle warmth, a movement against his shoulders, as if the scarf itself were aware of him.
"This scarf," Granny Amparo whispered, her eyes glimmering with a memory long past, "was a gift from an anito I once helped. It had been trapped in a sealed clay vase for centuries, bound by those who feared its power. I freed it, and in gratitude, it offered me this protection. Now, it belongs to you, Nille… to guide you, and to keep you safe when I cannot."
Nille's fingers brushed the scarf, feeling the faint hum of energy coursing through it. For the first time, he realized that the strange sensations he had felt in the forest, the glimpses beyond the ordinary, were connected, not just to him, but to the world Granny had lived in, a hidden realm where spirits, warriors, and curses were as real as the ground beneath his feet.
He swallowed, his heart steady, and nodded. He was ready.
Granny Amparo's hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "Remember, anak… this is more than a gift. It is a promise, and one day, you will understand why."
Nille lay in his worn-out bamboo bed, the soft rustle of leaves outside mixing with the distant hum of the city. The day had ended, yet his mind refused rest. He reached for the scarf, removing it with ease and folding it neatly beside him, its black fabric almost ordinary in the dim light. The remaining three items, the war barong, the twisted butterfly knife, and the asero knuckle, rested on the floor, waiting.
He chuckled softly to himself, half in disbelief. Granny Amparo had spoken of the scarf's ability to "store items," but he had assumed it was a metaphor, or perhaps some whimsical tale from her long, mysterious life. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. Carefully, he picked up the barong and placed it atop the folded scarf.
For a moment… nothing. Then, almost imperceptibly, the fabric shifted. The barong sank slowly into the scarf, as though swallowed by a pocket that had no visible seams. Nille blinked, leaning closer. "Impossible…" he murmured, hand hovering above the fabric.
Tentatively, he pressed a finger against the scarf, and to his astonishment, his hand passed into it as if plunging into soft, black air. It had space, volume, an interior far larger than its folded exterior suggested. He withdrew his hand, then tried again, this time with the knife and knuckle, both disappearing into the scarf's depths with the same gentle suction.
A shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't an illusion, he could feel the objects inside, weightless yet real. The scarf was… alive, somehow, not just fabric but a gateway, a container bending the rules of space itself.
Nille sat back, heart racing, and whispered to the empty room, "So… Granny Amparo wasn't joking."
He traced the scarf's edges with cautious fingers, marveling at the strange, almost sentient responsiveness of the black fabric. Whatever magic or blessing it held, it was far beyond his understanding, but deep inside, a spark of exhilaration ignited. This was no ordinary gift; it was a tool, a protector, and perhaps a key to the hidden world he was only beginning to glimpse.
For the first time, lying there in the fading light, Nille understood that his life had just taken a turn into something far bigger, far older, and far more dangerous than he had ever imagined. And tomorrow… he would begin to explore the secrets that the scarf, and Granny Amparo, had entrusted to him. and look for Luna as granny Amparo mention, as she will come back wounded but still alive near the place were he saw him.
Nille stared at the scarf for a long moment, his fingers brushing over its smooth, almost alive surface. The weight of what he had just discovered pressed gently against his chest, not fear, but anticipation, curiosity, and a strange comfort, knowing that Granny Amparo's guidance would always be there, even in the shadows of the unknown.
Carefully, he placed the three weapons back into the scarf, folded it neatly beside him, and tugged the blanket closer. The night outside pressed in quietly, the wind rustling through the trees, carrying whispers of the world beyond, of dangers and wonders yet unseen.
Nille closed his eyes, letting exhaustion wash over him. Thoughts of the forest, Luna, the Sarangay, and the strange, limitless space within the scarf swirled in his mind, but slowly, like the tide, they faded. A calm sense of purpose settled in his chest, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the faint pulse of his own potential stirring.
Wrapped in the dim glow of the lantern's last light, the bamboo bed creaked gently under him. Nille's breathing slowed, steady and even, his small chest rising and falling.
And finally, surrendering to the quiet, to the magic of the night, and to the legacy of his bloodline, Nille fell asleep.