They finally arrived in Silay City. Even though it was past 9 in the evening, the marketplace was still bustling with people. Food cart vendors lined the roadside, and a few customers were still making purchases. A patrol car was parked across from them, with two police officers enjoying their evening snack.
"Excuse me, officer. Good evening," Vincent greeted.
"Good evening, sir," they responded in unison. "How can we help you?" the shorter officer asked kindly.
Samika stepped in, smiling. "Ah, my colleague and I are looking for a place to stay for the night." She patted Vincent's shoulder. "We're new here, so we'd like to ask if there are any good hotels you can recommend."
The taller police officer nodded. "There aren't many hotels to choose from, ma'am, and most rentals here require advance reservations." He chuckled awkwardly, his face flushing slightly.
"Yes, because most tourists just stay in Bacolod City," the shorter one added, saving his colleague. "But there's a hotel over there." He pointed to the street across from them. "It's not as fancy as the ones in Bacolod, but it's safe and should give you a good night's rest."
Samika smiled warmly. "Thank you so much, officers. Have a great night."
In case of mortal emergencies, the police could be of great help, but their bullets would be useless against a Dalaketnon. Still, Samika felt a sense of safety having them around.
As soon as Vincent and Samika entered the hotel, a middle-aged lady greeted them and requested an ID, which Vincent provided. There was a brief exchange about the number of nights they'd be staying and the type of room they wanted, but Samika let Vincent handle it. After the concierge handed them their room key, they headed upstairs—literally, no elevators.
"This can be your daily exercise, Hibionada," Samika said mockingly. She noticed how Vincent was almost drenched in perspiration while she hadn't even broken a sweat.
"Unfair. You're not human; that's why you don't get tired," he panted, gripping his chest and gasping for air.
"Please, it's only three flights of stairs," Samika teased, looking back at Vincent with a playfully pitiful expression. Vincent could only glare in response.
"War is upon us, Hibionada. The pain you're feeling now won't compare to what you'll face in the coming days," Samika said, her tone suddenly serious. Vincent couldn't even meet her gaze.
Both of them fell silent, even after they reached their room. Vincent quietly laid down his things and went to sleep. Samika followed a few minutes later, not bothering to remove her footwear.
The next morning, Vincent went downstairs to buy breakfast while Samika freshened up. The weather was fine, a little cloudy. Her crystal buzzed and emitted soft, glowing, multi-hued lights. She touched it, and Dao greeted her on the other line.
"Morning," Samika groaned. "Good news?"
"Absolutely. Ina Baylan has confirmed she can heal terminally-ill mortals. I've passed your message to the Great General, and they're discussing the paper's release as we speak."
The engkantada sighed in relief. "That's good to hear. Anyway, if there are any issues or clarifications needed, don't hesitate to call me. Understood?"
"Understood, Lady Samika. Have a great day ahead."
As soon as Dao ended the call, Vincent arrived, carrying two coffees and four pieces of bread.
"Great timing," Samika said, tying her hair back, ready to eat breakfast. She noticed how Vincent was still silent, avoiding eye contact with her.
"Uh, good morning?" she said, snapping her fingers to get the dazed demigod's attention. She snapped them a couple more times, but there was no response.
"Hibionada, if you're still mad about last night, I—"
"Let's not talk about it," he interrupted, glancing at her briefly and forcing a smile. "We have a long day ahead."
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Thanks to technology, they were able to locate Renszel's convenience store within minutes. The ride from the hotel wasn't long either—about five minutes by tricycle, and they were there. From a distance, Samika spotted a man around 5'9" tall, his long hair tied in a bun, with his baby hairs secured by a thick black headband. That inexplicable feeling surfaced again: blood calls to blood. Renszel Manabat was the demigod son of Aman Sinaya, the primordial goddess of the sea. Samika had seen the goddess in her human form, and there was no doubt that Renszel bore his mother's godly features. She fished out the thin tree bark where the demigods' names were listed and saw that Renszel Manabat's name was now burned into the bark.
They found him.
"That's him," Samika murmured, pointing at the man across the street.
Vincent, slightly confused, didn't hear her clearly. "What?"
"That's him, Hibionada. That's Renszel Manabat. There!" She pointed at the same man again.
"How can you be so sure? I mean, he doesn't post many photos on social media. Even his profile picture hasn't been changed in years."
"I just know," Samika claimed proudly. "Come on."
"Wait," Vincent grabbed her arm. "How do you plan on approaching this?"
The engkantada raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "I have to tell him the truth. I don't have time to sugarcoat our situation. Once his name is burned into the bark, it means he's already been found, and his life is in grave danger. We can't waste any time."
Vincent panicked. "Wait, but how do we approach this?"
"Directly."
Samika crossed the street purposefully and entered the convenience store. Renszel greeted her as she walked by, then continued giving orders to some stevedores unloading boxes from a lorry.
The young engkantada picked out a few useful items—mostly snacks. As she stood by the counter, Renszel personally assisted her. She added a pack of cigarettes for Vincent and asked for a pen and paper. After writing something on the paper, she left. She fetched Vincent from where he stood, still in awe, hailed a tricycle, and they rode off. Vincent was still dazed and confused, barely registering the conversation between Samika and the old driver. They were dropped off at a restaurant shaded by a large tree. Inside, only a few servers and customers were present.
"We'll be here for a few hours. We'll order now, but we're waiting for someone. Is that okay?" Samika asked as soon as the male server greeted her at the door.
"Yes, of course," he smiled, handing her the menu. "Just call me when you're ready to order, okay?"
Samika nodded and dismissed him. She glanced at Vincent, who had been unusually quiet. He sat opposite her, dazed. She touched his arm—it was clammy.
"Hey, you okay?"
Vincent paused. "Wait, what just happened?"
"Um, we're here to eat?" Samika replied, puzzled.
"I know that. I mean, what just happened with Renszel?"
"Oh, that," Samika chuckled, leaning back in her chair confidently. "I invited him. I'm sure he'll come over later. Now, take a look at the menu."
As soon as they decided on their orders, they called the male server over. He took their orders with enthusiasm, gave them an estimated wait time, and walked away. Once again, Vincent and Samika were left alone together. Samika was never the type to empathize deeply with human emotions, but she wanted to clear up whatever was causing the rift between her and Vincent.
"Hey," she began.
Vincent smiled at her. "What's up?"
Samika glanced at the ceiling. "Uh..."
"Not literally," Vincent chuckled. His laugh made Samika smile too, even if she didn't quite get the joke.
"Listen, Hibionada. I know you're not someone who openly shares your emotions, but I want to apologize. I know what I said last night was a bit harsh, and I think you're trying to shut me out to avoid getting hurt by my words again. Just because we're on the brink of war, and you're one of Bathala's chosen heroes, doesn't mean you have to bottle up your emotions. If you're finding all of this difficult, I can help you improve. We can work on your stamina and combat skills together."
Vincent looked away, pursing his lips. "I'm sorry too. I know giving you the silent treatment was immature, but I've been a coward my whole life. I've always avoided fights—at school, on the streets. That's why I chose to be an IT guy; I just work in front of a computer. I communicate with people, but mostly online, and I'm always careful about what I say to avoid hurting anyone's feelings or starting an argument."
"Avoiding fights isn't cowardice. It's... uh..."
"Cowardice," Vincent muttered, rolling his eyes.
"No, no! I was just trying to think of a great quote!" Samika laughed, struggling to contain her amusement.
"I hate you," Vincent said, laughing before letting out a deep breath. "Wow, I needed to get that off my chest."
Samika's gaze softened. "As my mom once said, 'It's not the absence of conflict that makes a person strong, but the ability to navigate and resolve it with wisdom and restraint.' Remember that."
Vincent looked away again, wiping the tears that had started to form in his eyes.
After a few minutes of waiting and casual conversation, the server finally arrived with their order. While Vincent was busy thanking the server and going on about how the smell of the beef steak he ordered was already mouthwatering, Samika caught a familiar figure in her peripheral vision. It was the same man she had met earlier, but this time, his long hair was untied and covering most of his facial features—Renszel.
"Looks like our guest is here, Hibionada," she announced, standing up. Vincent, however, remained seated, continuing to enjoy his lunch.
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"Renszel Manabat. Hi," Samika greeted as soon as Renszel entered the restaurant. She extended her hand for a handshake, but he refused, causing her to retract it. This gesture alarmed Vincent.
Vincent wiped his face with a tissue and stood up. "I'm Vincent Hibionada, and this is Samika. We're glad you could make it." He waved at the server and requested a menu. "Here, you can order anything. Let's eat while we talk."
Renszel's presence was intimidating, making Vincent clear his throat and give Samika a look, silently urging her to start the conversation.
Samika leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and crossing her hands to support her chin. "I'm Samika Magdahon. I'll only say this once, so listen carefully. This is about you and your grandfather."
"Yeah, that's why I came here," Renszel responded in a low voice. "I read your note."
"Well, I'm not one to beat around the bush, so I'll be straightforward. You are the son of Aman Sinaya, the primordial goddess of the sea. This explains your love for the sea and why you're so drawn to it. You are one of Bathala's Seven Heroes, and you need to come with us to fulfill your role in this quest."
Renszel paused briefly before bursting out laughing. "That's hilarious. My mom, a primordial goddess?"
"I don't see what's so amusing about this information."
"You're crazy," Renszel growled, which startled Vincent slightly, though Samika stood her ground.
"Am I, Mr. Manabat? Why don't we ask your grandfather? He knows your mother."
Renszel sat silently and gulped. "He's terminally ill. He has lung cancer and is resting. I don't want you two disturbing him."
"Fine by us," Samika replied, raising her palms in a gesture of surrender. "Hibionada, write my number down on a piece of paper." Vincent complied, jotting down the Engkantada's number on a tissue. After he handed it to her, Samika passed the tissue to Renszel along with a small vial.
"Here. This vial will temporarily heal your grandfather. Put two drops on your palm and massage it onto both of his arms and forehead. That will give him enough energy to talk about who your mother was. If you come to your senses, give me a call. I'll tell you how we can help each other."
Renszel left after taking the vial and Samika's number. Meanwhile, Vincent and Samika finished their lunch, stopped by a nearby shopping mall, and then headed back to their hotel. Vincent, still skeptical, bombarded the Engkantada with a lot of questions, which she gladly answered.
"Last question," Vincent said.
"I doubt that," Samika replied, rolling her eyes.
Vincent scrunched his nose. "What did you put in the note?"
"Oh, it was, uh, I put the restaurant's name and then said, 'Meet us here if you want to know about yourself and want your grandfather to live.'"
"What the hell? Seriously?! That sounds like you kidnapped his grandfather."
Samika squinted her eyes, confused. "No, it doesn't. I was just being straightforward."
"Straightforwardly psychotic, if that's what you mean," Vincent exclaimed, his palm landing on his face in disbelief. "There are plenty of other ways you could've worded it to convince him. No wonder he looked pissed."
"He looked pissed? I didn't even notice." Samika's sheepish grin turned into a mischievous smirk. "I'm sure it'll still work. Just wait and see."
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After Renszel left the restaurant, he drove straight home. For some reason, the woman's words had convinced him, and the fact that she didn't force their beliefs and crazy claims on him only made it more mysterious. When he arrived at their house, he was greeted by his cats and dogs, all meowing and barking, circling him as he walked from the gate to the front door.
"Manang Allen, have you already eaten?" Renszel asked his trusted housemaid when he saw her ironing clothes while watching a movie in the living room.
"Yes, sir, I did. Your Lolo also had his lunch. I already gave him his afternoon medicine. What brings you home this early? Are you okay? Are you sick?" Allen asked, her genuine concern evident.
Renszel smiled warmly. "I'm fine, Manang. I'll check on Lolo for a bit, okay?"
"Oh sure. Just call me if you need something, okay?"
Renszel nodded and went to his grandfather's room. He stepped quietly into the room, where a soft breeze from the old electric fan stirred the air. The room was simple, with a single bed at the center, the sheets clean but slightly worn. Beside it, a small wooden nightstand held a few essentials—a glass of water, some pill bottles, and a photo frame with an old picture.
The window, partially covered by thin curtains, let in just enough light to illuminate the room without making it too bright, respecting the fragility of the man who lay there. A simple rosary hung on the wall above the bed, a symbol of his Lolo's enduring faith, even in his weakened state. A chair was positioned close to the bedside, worn cushions showing the imprint of countless hours Renszel had spent sitting there, keeping his grandfather company.
Renszel sat down, fished the vial out of his pocket, and followed Samika's instructions. He let two drops fall onto his palm, then gently lathered the oil onto his grandfather's arms and forehead. He waited for a few minutes, holding his Lolo's hand and pressing it against his face, hoping for any sign of change. But his Lolo's breathing remained the same—weak and faltering, his eyes still closed.
Renszel tried to hold back his tears, not out of disappointment in Samika and Vincent, but in himself. He had allowed hope to creep in, believing in something that now felt foolish.
He stood up, almost ready to leave. The frustration and helplessness gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of how much he wished things could be different. Yet, as he was about to leave the room, a familiar yet shaky voice called his name.
"Renszel, apo ko?"
Renszel pursed his lips, trying to contain his happiness. "Lolo!" he cried, hugging his grandfather. His grandpa's cough prompted him to let go. Renszel reminded himself that his grandfather was still fragile.
"How are you?" Renszel asked.
"I feel good. You?" His grandfather smiled, revealing the gentle lines of his face, with wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
"Happier than ever!" Renszel responded with enthusiasm, but his warm smile quickly faded as he remembered the real reason for disturbing his grandfather's afternoon. "Lolo Paeng, I have a question. I know I haven't questioned my identity since I was little, but lately, there have been these people visiting my store, claiming they knew my mom. What's funny is that they claim my mom is the primordial goddess of the sea. Amy Sarah or something—"
"Aman Sinaya." Grandpa Paeng corrected. "Your mom's name is Aman Sinaya."
"H—How did y—so it is true?" Renszel stuttered in disbelief. "Those people are telling the truth?"
Grandpa Paeng nodded weakly and reached for his grandson's hand. "I should have told you this a long time ago, I could never forget that day.
Your grandma, our son Joseph, and I were just humble villagers from a coastal barangay in Bulusan, Sorsogon. Back then, we fishermen resorted to dynamite fishing—it was the quickest way we knew to catch enough fish and meet our daily quotas. One night, while we were drinking at our small council headquarters, a young woman appeared. Her dark complexion glistened like the sea under the moonlight, and her long, curly brown hair flowed down to her waist. She was a stranger, someone none of us had seen before. Some of my friends, in their drunken foolishness, assumed she was a prostitute and tried to take advantage of her delicate appearance. I stood behind them, chuckling at their ridiculous advances, when she spoke in a voice that sent chills down my spine: "I come with a warning. Harm the seas again, and I will unleash its wrath upon you tenfold."
A fierce wind suddenly tore the roof off our headquarters. We were momentarily stunned, and when we looked back, she was gone—vanished into thin air. We stopped dynamite fishing for a day or two, but as the fish became scarce, my friends went back to their old ways. But not me. I grew up with my Nanay's stories about the realm of the unseen, and I was grateful that my wife shared those same beliefs. They called me a fool for heeding a woman's warning, but I held firm in my resolve. The catch dwindled more and more, until there were days, I came back empty-handed. Worse, I fell ill—overworked and exhausted. So, your father took over for me.
Days went by, and it was still the same, but my boy never lost hope. He'd eat the lunch and dinner your Lola prepared for him out at sea, determined to bring home something for us. He was a great man, hardworking and steadfast. Perhaps that's why your mother loved him so much. He prayed for a good harvest, and in time, his prayers were answered. Suddenly, he began catching fish in abundance. He'd only sail three times a week, but the catch was enough to feed us for a month.
Your father was never secretive; he always told me and your grandma about the girl he met. He described her as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen—she looked foreign, but her Filipino nose gave away that she was indeed from here. We'd share laughter at our humble dinner table, listening to him talk about their small conversations and encounters, which made his face as red as a tomato. He would talk about her for hours, and your Lola never grew tired of it. She begged to be introduced to her, but Joseph always refused, saying that your mother was shy and afraid we might not accept her. He mentioned that her father didn't want her meddling with strangers. Honestly, it struck us as rude. We thought maybe her parents were wealthy and didn't want her to associate with poor families like ours, but we never pressured your father.
Their relationship went on for months. One night, your father came home, shaken. We were worried and asked him what was wrong, but he mumbled something like, "Sinaya is pregnant. Nanay, Tatay, I got Sinaya pregnant."
Expecting to be scolded, your father was overjoyed when your Lola embraced him tightly. "I'm going to be a Lola! Paeng, you're going to be a Lolo! But Joseph, now that she's pregnant, there's no reason to be shy anymore. Why don't you introduce her to us? If she's okay with it, I can prepare a warm meal for us on Thursday. I'll even cook pork sinigang for her."
For a while, everything seemed perfect. Joseph continued to bring in an abundant catch, and our family felt blessed beyond measure. But as the sea blessed us, it also stirred something dark in the hearts of others. I could see the envy growing in our neighbors' eyes. It started small, just a lingering glance at our bountiful catch each time Joseph returned from the sea. You could hear the whispers, feel the stares as we walked through the village. Our harvest was good, better than any of the other fishermen around us, and that kind of success doesn't go unnoticed. They didn't know why the sea favored us, and maybe that ignorance fueled their jealousy. Rumors began to spread, like wildfire in the dry season.
It wasn't long before those whispers turned into wild accusations. They said Joseph had impregnated a young woman, a mysterious girl no one had ever seen, and that he refused to marry her, refused to accept the baby. The village turned against us quickly, too quickly. People we'd known our whole lives crossed the street to avoid us, their eyes full of judgment. Every misfortune they faced was suddenly our fault, every empty net, every failed catch.
One night, it came to a head. I was in town, and I overheard a group of men talking about my son. They called him a coward; said he was running from his responsibilities. My blood boiled, and before I knew it, I was in the middle of a fistfight. The anger was mutual, fueled by weeks of resentment, and I didn't hold back. I was outnumbered, but I couldn't let them slander my boy. I came out of it bruised and battered, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
But my actions had consequences. The man I fought, his pride wounded, poured his anger out on Joseph. They waited until he was out at sea, defenseless, just doing what he'd done every day for months. They followed him, I'm sure of it. Maybe they'd been watching us for weeks, waiting for the right moment. They threw their dynamite at him, those cursed explosives we'd sworn off after the warning. Joseph never stood a chance. The explosion was like thunder, a terrible roar that echoed all the way back to our home.
I'll never forget the moment I heard it. My heart stopped. I knew, deep down, what had happened, but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. We rushed to the shore, but there was nothing left of my son. The sea that had been our lifeblood, our salvation, turned against us that day. The waves crashed with a fury I'd never seen before, as if the ocean itself was enraged. The sky darkened, and the wind howled through the village. It wasn't just a storm; it was something far more terrifying. The ocean wasn't just angry—it was wrathful, vengeful.
I saw it with my own eyes, the way the waves rose, towering over the boats. The men who killed my son, they tried to flee, but the ocean wouldn't let them. A massive maelstrom formed in the water, right where they were. It was like the sea had opened up, swallowing them whole. I knew then that it wasn't just a storm—it was her. It was Sinaya, furious at the death of her beloved, claiming the lives of those who took him from her. The sea calmed after that, but the damage was done. Our village would never be the same, and neither would I.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. My wife continued to grieve our son. Her sorrow was deepened by the fact that he had been denied the chance to be a father, and he would likely have made a wonderful husband as well. Now, we were left with nothing. We tried to find your mother, but no one outside our village knew of a Sinaya who matched our description. Without her family name, it was nearly impossible.
One cloudy afternoon, while I was preparing my nets, I could smell your Lola's freshly boiled Saba bananas and coffee from outside. Just as I was about to go inside, someone called my name. Turning around, I saw the same young woman who had once warned us against dynamite fishing. Her features, once stern and intimidating, were now softened and kind. She held a baby wrapped in swaddling cloth.
She introduced herself as Aman Sinaya, the primordial goddess of the sea. With you in her arms, she told me that she had wanted to name you Marino, but your father had laughed at the idea. For reasons unknown to me, he chose the name Renszel, and your mother had respected his choice. She explained that her distraction at your father's death was due to a prophecy, though she did not elaborate on the details. She entrusted you to us, your grandparents, and said, "My child will be involved in a great prophecy. I want him to know the ways of men, to have his heart set on what he is meant to protect. If he becomes drawn to the sea, worry not. No harm will come to him; the sea itself will protect him. I failed to protect his father, but I will not fail to protect our son."
As soon as I had you in my arms, Sinaya smiled and vanished. When I came running inside with you, your Lola's knees gave way, and she nearly collapsed. We decided to move to your Lola's hometown, here in Silay City."
Renszel sat there, silently. "I guess I have to call those lunatics and apologize to them."
Grandpa Paeng patted his grandson's arms and chuckled lightly, "You should, apo. You should."