Amara's hands trembled as she held the Veil high above her head. The artifact pulsed like a living heart, each beat syncing with her own. Kailan's voice was steady but urgent:
"Choose now, Amara. The threads can only hold for so long."
Cortez's laughter cut through the neon glow of the city. "You won't do it. You're too afraid to let go of your own existence. Join me, Amara. We can rebuild the Philippines from the ground up. We can create a golden age!"
Amara's tears blurred her vision. "You don't care about the Philippines. You care about your name stamped on history!"
Cortez leapt down from the balcony, landing with a predatory grace. In his hand, the shard of the Veil sparked with an eerie crimson light. The moment his feet hit the ground, the city around them shifted—flickering between past and future like a broken film reel.
"Careful," Kailan warned. "He's destabilizing the timeline."
Cortez lunged at Amara. She dodged, the Veil humming louder with each movement. As their artifacts clashed, waves of energy rippled outward, distorting the streets around them. For a split second, Amara saw the Battle of Mactan overlapping with the cyberpunk cityscape, then WWII soldiers marching through holographic roads.
"Every time you strike, you're tearing the threads further apart!" Kailan shouted.
"Then I'll end this with one strike!" Amara yelled back. She swung the Veil, aiming to shatter Cortez's shard, but he blocked her with a surge of red energy. The collision sent both of them flying.
As Amara struggled to stand, the Veil's glow flared, showing her a vision. It wasn't just fragments of history this time—it was the beginning.
She saw an ancient civilization, far older than any Philippine kingdom, wielding technology so advanced it looked like magic. Among them stood a woman who looked like… her.
"Kailan… what am I seeing?" she whispered.
The spirit's voice was heavy. "You are tied to the Veil because you are its last descendant. The artifact was forged by your ancestors, who sought to protect the flow of time from those who would abuse it. It chose you, Amara, because you carry their bloodline."
Amara's breath caught. "I… I'm part of it?"
"Yes," Kailan said. "But your existence was never meant to last beyond the Veil's purpose. The moment you destroy it, your thread will end. That is the price your bloodline swore to pay."
Cortez rose from the rubble, eyes wild with ambition. "Then it is yours by birthright. But I'll take it anyway. I deserve it more than some trembling archaeologist!"
He lunged again, and their artifacts collided in a final, blinding burst. Amara felt the Veil's voice—soft but unyielding—whisper inside her mind:
"One act of choice will mend all threads."
In that moment, Amara understood. She wasn't just holding history in her hands. She was holding every life, every possibility.
She took a deep breath, stared Cortez in the eye, and said, "I choose the world over myself."
Then, with all her strength, she slammed the Veil against Cortez's shard.
The sound was like a thousand bells breaking at once. Light swallowed everything—past, future, and present. Amara felt herself unraveling, her memories slipping like sand through her fingers: her grandfather's voice, Jun's laughter, the smell of Cebu's ocean breeze… all fading.
Kailan's voice was faint but warm. "You did it. The threads are whole again. Rest now, Amara."
And then—silence.
to be continued...