RINA'S POV:
Later that night, I dreamt of the lowlands of my mother's stories, a place I'd never seen. I dreamt of the bustling San Fernando market, the air thick with the sweet scent of ripe mangoes and the sharp tang of fresh fish. It was a dream of a world that was whole, a world at peace.
The peace shattered.
A noise ripped through the quiet night—a wet, sickening thwack, as if a side of beef had been dropped from a great height and slammed into the side of our hut. My eyes snapped open. The comforting scent of herbs was gone, replaced by the electric smell of ozone and the coppery tang of fresh blood. I sat bolt upright, my heart hammering against my ribs. Lola and Lolo's sleeping mats were empty.
A low, continuous hum vibrated through the floorboards. Lolo's insects. But this wasn't their calm patrol; this was a high-pitched, frantic whine of pure terror. The floor was alive. A tide of iridescent beetles, chittering centipedes, and night-black moths was pouring in through every crack, a living flood that rose from the floor, swirling around my ankles. This wasn't Lolo's command; this was the hive-mind screaming in a desperate, final stand.
Then, through the maddening drone, I heard it. A man's voice, clear and cold, from just outside the hut. "I can't believe it. You're not Ascendants, but you wield this much power." The voice was filled with a chilling, almost academic fascination, like a collector admiring a rare specimen before pinning it to a board.
"Have we done something to you to deserve this?" Lola's voice. It was thin, hoarse, and hearing that strength waver terrified me more than anything.
"This isn't about what you did," the man laughed, a short, sharp, ugly sound. "It's about what you are. I need power. The other Administrators get their systems from some god-like interface, but mine is different. It only allows me to gain power by consuming the hearts of those born with innate abilities. I thought that meant I was stuck with the rare few humans, until I accidentally killed an Aswang."
My blood ran cold. It was real. All of it was real.
"My System told me I could eat its heart," the man continued, his voice dripping with predatory glee. "I did, and I gained its strength, its shapeshifting. Now, I hunt for people like you. Unique. Powerful. With your two abilities—the shaman's light and the witch's darkness—I'll become untouchable."
I had to see. Pushing through the swarm, I ripped the calendar from the back wall and pressed my eye to a small hole. I could only see the man's back. He was a mountain of a man in dark, tactical gear. But my attention was fixed on my grandparents. Lolo Kael was bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead, his bolo knife shaking in his hand. He stood protectively in front of Lola Elara, whose hands glowed with a faint, sputtering golden light.
"You can't wield our power!" Lolo Kael's voice was a gravelly roar of defiance. "It requires the blood, the ancient incantations and spells!"
The man just laughed again, a low, guttural sound. "Old man, my System doesn't just copy your abilities. It absorbs them. It gives me the most efficient version. Your 'insect command' will just become a simple skill I can activate at will. No chanting required."
His words hung in the air, a death sentence. And then, with the terrifying certainty of a predator closing in, he moved.
It wasn't a blur. It was worse. I blinked, and he was no longer in front of them. He was behind them. There was no sound of movement, only the soft whisper of displaced air. My grandparents' bodies swayed for a moment, two figures caught in a silent, macabre dance, their faces frozen in shock. Then, they crumpled to the ground like discarded puppets.
My breath hitched, trapped in my lungs. In each of the man's large hands, held up to the crimson moonlight as if in offering, were two still-beating, bloody hearts. Steam rose from them in the cool night air.
A scream tore through my lungs, but it was swallowed, muffled, lost in the deafening roar of the insect swarm. My mind simply broke. The world dissolved. The sound, the fear, the sight of my grandparents' empty bodies—it all vanished, replaced by a single, impossible, looping image: those two steaming hearts in the moonlight. My hands flew to my mouth, but it was too late. A sob, a wet, ragged sound of ultimate despair, escaped.
"I felt someone in there."
The words were a hammer blow, shattering my frozen state. I pulled my eye away from the hole, stumbling back, but the insects were a solid wall behind me. I lost my footing and fell backward into the buzzing, skittering sea of life. Then, the insects moved. Following Lolo's final, desperate command, they swarmed over me, a thick, living blanket, pinning my body to the floor. Their weight was immense, crushing. This was his last act of defiance, his last act of love: to hide me. The rank, earthy scent was overwhelming, and the pressure built, forcing the air from my lungs. This is it, I thought with a strange clarity. I'm going to suffocate.
Just as consciousness began to slip away, the pressure vanished. The insects receded, a living tide pulling back just as quickly as they had arrived. He must be gone. I scrambled to the door, my hands trembling so badly it took three tries to work the simple wooden latch. I pulled it open and stumbled out into the clearing. He was gone.
My gaze fell on the two figures lying still in the dirt. A denial so powerful it was a physical force rose in me. No. Get up. Please, get up. I crawled to them, my legs refusing to support me. Lola Elara and Lolo Kael. They were gone. The crimson moonlight painted a cruel, final, beautiful scene of my world ending. The silence of the night was absolute, broken only by my ragged, hitching breaths. I reached out, my fingers tracing the cold, waxy skin of Lola Elara's hand. The hand that had soothed my fevers and braided my hair was now lifeless and still.
It wasn't just grief; it was a devastating, hollow agony that scooped out my insides. "No... this isn't real!" The words tore from my throat, a raw, animalistic scream. "This can't be happening!" My trembling hands wrapped around Lola's still-warm body, pulling her into a desperate, frantic embrace. I cried until my eyes were dry and burning, until my throat was raw. I didn't know how long I lay there, clinging to the cooling bodies of my only family as the bloodmoon bled out and faded from the sky.
The first rays of dawn broke through the bruised, purple sky. But in that cold, desolate moment, the tears stopped. A single thought, hard and unyielding as a shard of obsidian, settled in the hollow space where my heart used to be. Revenge. The man, the Administrator who had stolen their lives and their power—he would pay. I would find a way. I would become stronger.
With a resolve I didn't know I possessed, I stood up and grabbed a shovel. The ground, now a hallowed tomb, would not take them from me forever. I would dig their grave myself. Every scoop of damp, cool earth was a promise. Every blister was a prayer. Every ache was a vow. It was nearly nine in the morning when I finally finished. With the last of my strength, I carefully placed their bodies into their final resting place. Once the work was done, I collapsed beside the fresh mound of dirt, my face pressed against the ground that had taken them. I lay there until darkness fell once more. I would not seek to be a hero, or a villain, or even a simple survivor. I would become a weapon.