As I sat in my dimly lit apartment, poring over the Sacramentum book, my focus was split between deciphering the ancient Baybayin and remembering my grueling training with the Mulawins. The memory of the training, the long hours of sparring, chanting incantations until my throat was dry, and nearly collapsing from exhaustion has flooded back to me. Their methods were harsh, but they worked. Now, faced with the daunting task of translating the book, I realized how much I still didn't know. Using a translation app was proving almost useless; the app butchered the text, spitting out phrases like, "Summon chicken feather bolo quick run," which made no sense at all.

I sighed, thinking about how woefully unprepared I was when I first encountered these monsters. This time, though, I vowed to be ready. Let them come, monster or not, I thought grimly. But before I could dive back into the book, I heard a faint rattling noise.

My gaze snapped to the shelf.

The jar.

The mischievous dwende was on the move again, jiggling the lid like it was trying to pop itself free. I stood up, grabbing the jar, and peered inside. The tiny creature glared at me, its beady eyes burning with indignation.

"Seriously?" I said, shaking the jar lightly. "I let you live, and this is how you repay me? Plotting your little escape?"

The dwende hissed and crossed its tiny arms, clearly unimpressed by my interrogation skills.

"Alright, buddy. I don't have time for this."

With an instinctive gesture, I summoned my bolo. The blade materialized in my hand with a faint shimmer of energy, and the dwende immediately panicked. It thrashed in the jar, squealing like a gremlin caught raiding a pantry.

"Oh, so you do know what this is," I said, smirking.

The dwende started banging on the glass, and for a moment, I thought it was trying to stage a protest.

"Okay, little guy, enough games," I said. I grabbed salt, candles, and chalk from my shelves and began drawing a containment circle on the floor. The dwende's protests grew louder.

Once the circle was complete, I placed the jar in the middle and carefully opened the lid. The dwende shot out like a cork from a champagne bottle, only to slam into an invisible barrier. It hissed and swiped at the edge of the circle, sparks of energy crackling where it touched.

"Not so fast," I said, sitting cross-legged outside the circle. "You're not going anywhere until we have a little chat."

The dwende glared at me, muttering in a guttural language that sounded like a mix between cursing and a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you," I said. "But I will if you don't start talking. What do you know about the prophecy?"

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The dwende turned its back on me, pretending to ignore my question.

"Oh, you're giving me the silent treatment now?" I scoffed. "Alright, let's see how you like this."

I pulled out a feather and tickled its tiny foot. It screeched, hopping around the circle like a drunk cricket.

"Talk!" I demanded.

"Fine! Fine!" it shrieked, throwing its tiny arms up. "You're the Sacramentum! Seeker of truth, holder of mysteries, protector of both worlds!"

I paused, my heart racing. "Go on."

The dwende sighed dramatically, as if this was the most inconvenient conversation it had ever had. "A prophecy foretold that a detective would be born in the Sacramentum bloodline. Someone with the guts, the brains, and the sheer stupidity to meddle in both worlds. But you're not ready! War is coming, and—"

The dwende stopped mid-sentence, its eyes darting nervously.

"What? What else?" I pressed.

It hesitated, then whispered, "I've joined the other side."

I froze. "The other side? Who are they?"

The dwende opened its mouth to speak, but suddenly, it convulsed. Its body swelled grotesquely, its veins glowing black.

"Hey! Hey, what's happening to you?!" I yelled, scrambling backward.

The dwende's eyes bulged as it hissed, "You're not ready for them…"

And then, BOOM!

The dwende exploded in a splatter of black goo, spraying everywhere within the containment circle. I sat there, stunned, staring at the smoking remains of the tiny creature.

"Seriously?!" I groaned, wiping my face. "Did it have to explode?"

The smell hit me next an awful stench like rotten eggs and burnt hair. I gagged, throwing open the windows.

As I cleaned up the mess, I couldn't shake the dwende's final words. The other side. Whoever or whatever they were, they had taken Manalo, his mother, and now this dwende.

I didn't know who my enemies were, but one thing was clear: they weren't going to stop. Neither would I.

After cleaning up the grotesque remains of the dwende, I sat down to revisit the Sacramentum book. Its ancient pages felt heavier tonight, the weight of their knowledge pressing on me. As I flipped through, my fingers stopped on a section I hadn't noticed before.

The text shimmered faintly, as if beckoning me to read it. The title, written in Baybayin, roughly translated to "The Eye of Tomorrow." My heart quickened. It was a spell, something to glimpse into the future, though the description warned of its limitations. The words on the page were clearer than others I had struggled to decipher, almost as if they wanted to be found.

The instructions were simple yet unnerving:

• Gather an item of significance to the seeker.

• Perform the ritual under the new moon.

• Ask the question you wish answered.

However, the spell's cost was steep. It could only be used once a month, and the visions it granted were vague, cryptic, and often incomplete. Still, it was a lifeline, a potential advantage in a battle where I felt blind most of the time.

I set the book down and looked around my apartment. What item would represent me, the seeker? My eyes landed on my father's old bolo, well-worn, its handle polished smooth from years of use. It was perfect.

The new moon was tonight, so I quickly gathered candles, chalk, and incense to prepare the ritual. I cleared a space in the center of the room, my heart thudding in anticipation.

As I knelt, the bolo resting before me, I drew a circle with symbols I recognized from my Mulawin training. Each mark seemed to hum with energy as I completed it. I lit the candles and incense, their combined scents filling the room with a heady, otherworldly aroma.

Then, I spoke the incantation from the book, each word rolling off my tongue like a song I somehow knew by heart:

"Mula sa dilim ng kahapon, ilawan ang landas ng panahon. Ipakita mo sa akin ang katotohanan kung san mapaparoon." "From the darkness of yesterday, light the path of time. Show me the truth of where it leads."

The air grew heavy, charged with an invisible force. The flames of the candles flickered wildly, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Suddenly, the bolo began to glow faintly, its blade reflecting an ethereal light.

My surroundings blurred, and I felt myself being pulled into a vortex of swirling colors. When everything stilled, I was no longer in my apartment but in a strange, dark void. Wisps of smoke curled around me, forming indistinct shapes.

Then, the visions began.

I saw flashes of events, a city skyline bathed in blood-red light, shadowy figures whispering in a language I couldn't understand, and a pair of glowing, unearthly eyes watching me from the darkness.

A voice, soft and fragmented, echoed in my mind:

"The betrayer wears the guise of a friend… the key lies in the ashes of innocence… beware the hunter, for he stalks in silence."

I tried to ask questions, to demand clarity, but the vision began to shatter like glass, each piece falling away into the void. Before I could grasp anything more, I was yanked back to reality.

I gasped, my body drenched in sweat. The candles had burned low, their wax pooling on the floor. The bolo lay before me, its glow now gone, as if nothing had happened.

The cryptic message rattled in my mind. What did it mean? Who was the betrayer? And what or who was the hunter?

Though the vision had left me with more questions than answers, one thing was clear: danger was closer than I'd realized.

And I had one month to prepare for whatever was coming.