When Alkan Buena showed up in San Roque, people couldn’t help but talk. He was a stranger, dressed too well for the small, dusty town, and the way he carried himself made everyone curious. 

  Although curious, they had no guts to ask the newcomer especially when he brought the old mansion in the middle of the woods which was the home of the fallen Buena clan. 

  It was said that whoever brought the house will bear the wrath of the gods.

  But Alkan thought that he had already bore the wrath of the gods since birth, and made his life a mess thus pushing him back to this old and remote town.

  It's because two months ago, his parents died in an accident, his elder sister died in her sleep, and his older brother died of an illness. Due to consecutive deaths of his family members, the debt they left behind all fell on his shoulders. 

  He had no choice but to sell his properties and bring his wife, Valeria, into his old hometown. In order to bring food to the table, Alkan decided to become Manual Jimenez's business partner. 

  At dawn, Alkan stepped out of the car. He gazed up at the opulent mansion of the Jimenez family. He wasn’t surprised by their wealth; after all, he had once lived in San Roque and knew exactly who ran the town.

  Valeria stayed behind at home, claiming she wasn’t feeling well, though he knew she just didn’t want to roam around San Roque. He didn’t insist because, aside from wanting to present himself to Manuel as a business partner, he had his own motive for the man. 

  He wanted to confirm if his suspicion was correct—that Manuel either possessed some kind of power or had knowledge about the Tribal.

  “Good day, sir.” A guard approached him with a smile. “Who are you?”

  “Alkan Buena. Is Mr. Manuel inside?”

  The man paused for a moment before nodding. “You must be Mr. Buena. Sir Manuel has been expecting you.”

  Alkan followed the guard into the mansion, passing through a garden of fragrant flowers as the sun rose in the east. His favorite among them was the white roses along the edge.

  “Please come inside, sir,” the guard said.

  He tore his gaze from the roses and wordlessly stepped through the door. Soft music greeted him as he entered. His eyes wandered until they landed on Manuel, who was talking to a servant.

  Minutes passed before Manuel noticed him. Still standing by the door, Alkan saw the brief flicker of surprise in Manuel’s eyes before he smiled. “Alkan, glad you could make it.”

  Alkan nodded as Manuel ushered him to an elegant sofa and even invited him to breakfast. He politely declined, explaining he had already eaten at home.

  Manuel chuckled. “It’s nice to have a wife, isn’t it? You never go hungry,” he joked. Alkan merely smiled. Ignoring his silence, Manuel continued, “My wife died during the town fiesta. She drowned in the river.” He sighed deeply.

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  Unsure of what to say, Alkan remained silent, occasionally nodding in response.

  Manuel observed him with amusement. “You’re a quiet one,” he remarked, shaking his head before taking a sip of coffee. Then he stood up and invited Alkan to go out.

  Alkan found himself seated in Manuel’s car, listening as the man narrated folktales about the places they passed by.

  “That’s the old cemetery. Do you know the story of this place?” Manuel suddenly asked.

  Alkan glanced out the window, his eyes landing first on the archway at the cemetery entrance. The inscription on the arch was unreadable, except for one word that caught his attention: Batumbakal.

  It was carved into the arch, confirming they were indeed at the old cemetery in Sitio Batumbakal. According to the elders, all the graves here contained only banana trunks, as the balbal had devoured the freshly buried bodies.

  “There are no bones inside that cemetery,” Alkan remarked, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the entrance. He thought he saw someone standing inside, but in the blink of an eye, the figure vanished. He frowned. Was it just an illusion?

  “That’s what some say,” Manuel replied. “But they never considered that perhaps the people buried in the old cemetery might still be alive.”

  Alkan quickly turned to Manuel, his heart racing. The man was still staring at the archway, but Alkan’s pulse quickened at the implication of his words.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice serious.

  Manuel glanced at him, chuckling when he saw the intensity in Alkan’s expression. “Just a theory. Pure imagination. It’s not real.” He restarted the car and drove away from the cemetery.

  Looking into the rearview mirror, Alkan gasped when he saw a man standing at the cemetery entrance. The man was dressed in a barong tagalog, staring directly at him!

  Suddenly, the mysterious figure grinned and vanished from the mirror. Even so, Alkan’s heart pounded, and his face turned pale with fear.

  “What’s wrong?” Manuel asked, though his tone suggested he wasn’t particularly worried about Alkan’s sudden pallor.

  Alkan shook his head and exhaled deeply. If only Manuel knew there was a ghost watching them from the old cemetery, he might panic and cause an accident.

  They spent hours touring the entire town of San Roque. Alkan realized he hadn’t visited many of the places in his childhood town. Their last stop was the San Roque River.

  The river was located in a secluded sitio, rarely visited by people. According to Manuel, people avoided the river because of the belief that malevolent spirits lived beneath its waters.

  Alkan shook his head. It seemed every place in San Roque had its own folklore, except perhaps the plaza where the municipal hall stood. Still, he wasn’t sure if all the tales Manuel shared were mere fabrications. To him, there were beings whose existence couldn’t be explained, living among humans.

  “Once, a fisherman came to this river,” Manuel began. “He wanted to fish here, but before he could catch anything, he screamed in terror. He claimed to have seen a sirena eating someone’s entrails in this river. Since then, the Mayor has banned people from coming here out of fear. The townsfolk wanted to capture the sirena and kill it.”

  In folklore, a sirena or a mermaid is an aquatic creature with the head and upper body of a young female and a lower body that consists of a tail of a fish. Many people believe that a sirena could cause men to go crazy upon seeing her face. 

  Alkan raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t anyone guarding the entrance?”

  Since the Mayor banned this place, there should be someone guarding the entrance, right?

  Manuel laughed. “No. People are too scared to come here so no one stood to guard this river. But don’t worry—I got permission from the Mayor.”

  Alkan fell silent, unable to confirm if a sirena really haunted the peaceful river. He leaned on the railing of a small waiting shed, noticing a large, round rock beneath it.

  The river was desolate. No noise, no movement. The green waters seemed to be sleeping. What puzzled him most was the absence of leaves or any debris floating on the surface. It was as if someone cleaned it daily, leaving him unsure whether the river was flowing or stagnant.

  They only stayed at the San Roque River for a few minutes. There wasn’t much to see there, and something about the stillness of the river unsettled him. It was too calm, almost unnaturally so, as if it wasn’t a normal river at all.

  By the time they arrived at Alkan’s house, the headlights of the truck were already on as dusk settled. All the lights in the house were on, and Valeria stood at the doorway, waiting for him.

  He smiled at her, but the expression vanished when he saw her furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping in front of her.

  Valeria looked up at him, staring for a few moments before shaking her head.

  Alkan frowned. “I know something’s wrong. Just tell me.”

  Valeria swallowed and motioned for him to come inside. With a furrowed brow, he followed her.

  She stopped in the living room, quickly turned to face him, and leaned closer. “There’s someone in my room.”

  Alkan inhaled sharply, his gaze snapping toward the staircase. His jaw clenched as he grabbed Valeria’s arm and led her to the kitchen. He closed the door connecting the kitchen to the living room and turned to her.

  “Who?” he asked through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing.

  Valeria stepped back, seemingly startled by his expression. He exhaled and softened his features. “Do you know who it is?” he asked gently.

  Valeria took a deep breath and shook her head. “They were already there when I entered the room.”

  “What did they look like?”

  Valeria blinked, her brows knitting together. “I didn’t see their face clearly. They were standing near the window, with their back to me. But…” She paused, her voice trailing off. “I noticed black feathers on my bed.”

  Alkan froze. Black feathers? If he wasn’t mistaken, a Sawikin had entered Valeria’s room!

  Sawikin is a tribe of winged men -- divided into two races: black winged tribe and white winged tribe. When Valeria saw black feathers, it means that the Sawikin who entered her room belonged to black winged tribe.

  Alkan's lips pressed into a thin line, and he quickly made a decision. "Stay here," he said. "Lock this door and don’t open it unless it’s me knocking."

  Valeria’s eyes widened. "But what if it’s a bad person—"

  "Don’t worry." His expression softened as he took in her worried face. He reached for her shoulders and pulled her closer, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Wait for me," he said before gently letting go.

  He quickly stepped out of the door and locked it himself before shutting it tight. He walked back to the living room, his eyes scanning the surroundings. He wasn’t disappointed.

  “Looks like someone broke into your house,” Gio said, leaning casually against the doorframe. His white wings were spread wide behind him. 

 Gio is part of the white winged tribe that followed him around when he first arrived in this old town. This creature is sent to ensure his safety. 

 Alkan was more than happy to let this white sawikin follow him, for whenever Gio's around, the shadows around him seemed to vanish.

  “Valeria told me. And I think whoever it was belongs to the Black Wing Tribe,” Alkan replied, his brows furrowed in frustration.

  Gio scoffed. “What did you do this time? Why is one of them here?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Alkan defended himself. “They just suddenly showed up in the house and even revealed themselves to Valeria. It’s a good thing they didn’t do anything to my wife, or I’d make them regret it.”

  Gio’s eyes narrowed as his gaze traveled from the top of the staircase to the closed door where Valeria was hiding.

  “They’re gone,” Gio suddenly said.

  Alkan raised an eyebrow at the statement. The sawikin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “They’ve been gone for a while. Didn’t you even check if the intruder had already left before you started complaining to me?”

  Alkan fell silent, frowning as he looked up at the staircase. He couldn’t hear any movement from upstairs. Could the sawikin really have left?

  “A sawikin only leaves after they’ve accomplished what they came for. Didn’t your wife tell you anything?” Gio suddenly asked.

  Alkan’s gaze shifted back to the sawikin. “What do you mean?”

  “What else? If the sawikin didn’t come here for you, then they must have come for your wife. Didn’t she say anything else?”

  Alkan thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he recalled something. “She found black feathers on her bed.”

  “Black feathers?” Gio’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked thoughtful. “If she found black feathers on her bed, it only means…”

  Alkan’s ears perked at Gio’s words, and he glared intensely at the sawikin. “What does it mean?”

  Gio looked at him before stroking his chin and glancing out the open door.

  “It means… the sawikin has already shared a bed with your wife.” Gio turned to him with a sly grin. “Looks like the sawikin beat you to it.”