"Chevonne! Look at this!"

How could I not?

The landscape glowed beneath the moonlight. It was so breathtaking it seemed to drain every worry and fear the island had planted in me. I’d never seen a night so bright. Lavender light bathed everything, revealing the landscape in full detail as if darkness held no power here.

I squinted, realizing the soft glow came from the cocohair trees. They shimmered like the candescent Christmas trees I used to see in P-Mall during those early September displays.

The silent waterfalls didn’t unsettle me anymore—not after everything Chevonne had told me about strange powers and whatnot. The abnormal was starting to feel normal. I refused to keep acting surprised every time reality broke its own rules.

Because I wasn’t normal either. I had a power. I was a thinker. And honestly? I was proud of it.

If I could, I’d show off my ability—flaunt it in front of my friends, brag as much as I wanted. I wasn’t some superhero hiding their gift from the world. If they put me on the news, I’d like that.

Chevonne finally caught up, breathing hard from our nearly hour-long search for Lucky Kid. Her smoky breaths hung in the air, and for some reason, it made me blush. She looked... hot.

I hated myself for thinking it.

Quickly, I looked away and mumbled, "What do you think this is?"

She took a deep breath. "I’m not sure. But I am sure this was created by a thinker. Or maybe a creator."

"There are more than just beasts here... Wait! Can you see that? There’s a building—right in the middle of the waterfall basin!"

"Where? It’s too dark for me to—"

Her eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply, like she was about to shout. But she stopped herself, exhaling instead.

"So? You have an idea now, don’t you?"

"We need to get down there." Her voice had shifted. It was urgent. "I think I know who’s there."

We spotted a narrow brook below. Chevonne didn’t hesitate—she headed straight for the water, completely ignoring the safer, easier path that ran alongside the hillside.

The same look crossed her face as when we’d first heard the fire alarm.

Worried. Hurried.

"Come on, Josh. It’s only knee-deep!"

I hesitated, rolling my torn pants above my knees. The water looked freezing. I dipped my toes to test it—

"My God, Josh. Now you’re going to act ladylike?"

I blushed and sloshed through the surprisingly lukewarm water, the chill of the night clinging to my skin. Chevonne snickered when I caught up, and together, we reached the front of the ancient building.

I peeled off my shirt and wrung it dry. Out of the corner of my eye, I sneaked a glance to see if she’d do the same. Of course, she didn’t—and wouldn’t. And I hated myself for even thinking about that.

Once I pulled my damp shirt back on, I finally noticed the truth.

The door wasn’t a door.

There was no entrance at all. The entire hotel front was sealed—there was nothing but mossy bricks and those same antediluvian vines we’d seen twisting through the cracks back at the clone school, tangling into the soil below.

Dark clouds drifted in, smothering the moonlight—our only source of illumination since our phones had died.

Then, it drizzled.

"Hey! What are we supposed to do? There's no way in!" I shouted over the rain, which was rapidly turning into a noisy downpour.

Chevonne stepped closer so I could hear her more clearly. "I reckon there’s a beast here. One that can open the way... I just don’t know which one."

I frowned. "Did your father tell you that? Why didn’t you ask for the details?"

She shook her head. "No. It was my mother. She told me about this realm when I was a child."

A thunderclap interrupted us, shaking the ground and making both of us flinch. We braced for the lightning.

Nothing.

We were wrong.

Another round of thunder growled—louder this time—followed by a blinding flash that forced Chevonne to duck, pressing both palms over her ears.

For a moment, in the brief flare of light, I thought I saw her face twisted with something more than fear. Sobbing? Her face was too wet to be sure, but it hit me deep, and I didn’t care if the rain masked it.

I had to do something.

I grabbed a vine from the wall and yanked hard until it snapped free. Holding it in my hands, I closed my eyes, forcing my focus inward. I willed it to change—to become something useful for her.

It took strength, more than I’d expected, draining me until I felt almost lightheaded.

When I opened my eyes, the vine was gone.

In its place lay a purple umbrella, worn and tattered, its fabric full of holes and frayed edges.

Useless. But I used it anyway.

I opened the umbrella and walked to Chevonne, holding it above her as the rain battered through its gaps.

She looked up, her face still damp, her worried expression softening. Then, she gave me what I hadn’t realized I’d wanted all along—her smile.

She wiped her face, murmuring, "Thanks."

I swallowed hard. "You're welcome."

Suddenly, beams of moonlight shot down through the clouds, piercing the storm as the rain ceased.

Together, we turned skyward and watched as the clouds parted slowly, revealing a procession of pegasus-like creatures descending from above.

Their glossy fur shimmered, and they had three pairs of legs. Each bore a single, large eye in the center of their forehead, their curled horns reflecting the pale light.

They touched down gently on the grass just meters away.

And once they had fully examined us, as though ensuring we posed no threat, they reared onto their hind legs.

Then, in perfect harmony, they neighed—a chorus so rich and melodic it felt like the sky itself was singing.

It lasted only a moment before the creatures ascended back into the heavens, vanishing in midair.

"What was that?" I asked, half to myself.

Chevonne's expression shifted, smoothing from a what-in-the-world-is-happening look to a calm, relieved one. Then, her eyes widened in recognition.

"They're the guardians of this realm," she whispered. "Look behind you."

I turned—and there it was.

A double door had appeared where the vines and moss-covered stone had been. It looked like polished mahogany, solid and ancient, as though it had been there all along, waiting for this moment.

I reached out, ready to knock.

Before my knuckles could meet the wood, the door swung open from the inside.

Moonlight spilled in, illuminating the lower half of the figure standing there. Time felt like it slowed as the glow crept upward, revealing her face.

Jelly.

My breath caught. We both froze, just staring at each other.

And for the first time since working alongside her, standing this close, I noticed details I hadn’t before. How the silver-blue light reflected in her eyes—even the softness of her lips.

She looked like an angel under the moon’s pale blaze.

Before I could speak, a figure rushed past me—Chevonne.

She threw herself into Jelly's arms, nearly knocking her back. Jelly hesitated for a heartbeat before instinctively wrapping her arms around Chevonne, still wide-eyed.

Then, as realization settled in, Chevonne broke. Tears streamed down her face, her body trembling as she sobbed against Jelly's shoulder. Jelly's face crumpled, and soon both of them wept like children, clinging to each other in raw, silent relief.

From the shadows behind Jelly, two figures emerged. One was an old man in a crisp tuxedo, his face calm and unreadable. Beside him stood a round man in khaki shorts, his expression harder to place but wary.

The old man’s voice broke the silence.

"You is come in."

*****

We sat on a run-down couch stained with dark splotches that I suspected were dried blood. The whole area felt... normal. Old-fashioned, even. The decor was simple—rustic, nothing modern about it. Yet something lingered beneath that sense of normalcy.

A rhino-like beast lay beside the old man, calm under his gentle strokes. The sight made me think of the one Lucky Kid had silenced. If this creature belonged to him, I’d better not mention what we’d done.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

The well-rounded man in khaki shorts sat close to Jelly, his arms crossed as he watched us with mild curiosity. Between us stood a rickety coffee table, its wooden legs bowed as if they could give out at any second.

The old man broke the silence. “Me is sorry if me hotel is looking very old and small. You see, me business is not the booming. Me is not having funds for the renovating.” He gave a polite smile, then he got up and disappeared into a back room.

When he returned, he carried a tray with simple food and drinks. “But me can still serve this. Come, eat and drink.”

We did. The food had the sweet, nutty taste of coconut but richer, like it had been made from the cocohair fruit we’d seen earlier.

“Thank you very much,” Chevonne said warmly. “We’re actually glad we found you. And even more glad we got reunited with our friends.” She turned to Jelly and gave her a heartfelt smile, which Jelly returned with an even bigger, brighter one.

I put down my half-eaten fruit. “Really though, how come you’re living here? I mean, I already know this island is strange, and the beasts here are... well, not normal.”

To make a point, I picked up a wooden vase from the coffee table. Closing my eyes, I focused on changing it. When I opened them, the vase had turned into a solid chunk of rock. The transformation felt effortless this time, making me realize that the harder an object was to alter, the more energy it drained.

I reversed the thought, and the rock returned to wood.

The old man had stopped petting his beast. His gaze lingered on me, the look in his eyes sharper, more focused. Adjusting his tie, he reached under the bar, pulled an ottoman closer, and sat beside the man with Jelly.

“You is a thinker,” he said simply.

Chevonne spoke before I could. “Yes, he is. And so am I.” Her voice turned serious yet hopeful. “And I know who you are. You’re this realm’s creator.”

The old man held her gaze, his expression blank. Then, in his broken speech, he shared something strange—yet I understood it somehow.

“Me is the living here as long as me is the remembering. Everything you is see—the mine. Me is create all this. Then, one day, bad people is come. They is the kill me clients, me guests. Me is the scared. Me is the can’t stop them. Me is... finished creating. Is the begin of transferring.”

“You mean the transference rite, right?” Chevonne clarified gently.

Jelly and the man in khaki shorts exchanged puzzled looks. Clearly, they hadn’t caught on.

Chevonne noticed, too. “The transference rite,” she explained, “or takeover, is a ten-year ritual where a creator passes their power to an heir before they die. Sometimes, instead of family, the power can transfer to someone holding a specific artifact blessed by the creator. Once the takeover begins, the creator loses control over their realm. They can no longer leave it.”

I felt a chill crawl up my spine as I pieced it together.

She gestured toward me, noticing my realization. “And yes, Josh. That means he’s been living on this island for over ten years now.”

“So, this hotel was created before the takeover began?” Jelly interrupted.

Chevonne glanced at the old man for confirmation. He nodded timidly.

She took a deep breath and continued, “On top of that, if an heir or the holder of the blessed artifact fails to find and enter the realm within the first half of the ten-year transference rite, the realm will gradually dissolve during the remaining five years.”

“So, the fact that we’re still here means the realm is still intact?” the man in khaki shorts asked for the first time.

“Well, yes.”

I frowned, pointing out a gap in the explanation. “But what happens if the realm dissolves while we’re still here? And how can we even tell if it’s dissolving?”

Chevonne nodded thoughtfully. “I’m sure all of us here—including you, sir,” she added with a respectful glance at the old man, “remember the first vertical earthquake that hit Cebu, right? That marked the end of the first half of the transference. A vertical quake signals that a nearby realm is either dissolving or changing. When it happens right at the midpoint of the transference, it means the realm has started dissolving.

“Over the next five years, regular earthquakes will follow until the rite concludes. However, if another vertical earthquake occurs during this second half, it means something else entirely—it means the realm is changing.”

I still didn’t get it. “Changing how? Like, what does that mean?”

“It means an heir or artifact holder has started taking control of the realm.”

I was about to speak when Jelly gasped, her eyes wide. “The barge! The seaquake we felt—the one that knocked us out and got us stranded here—that was a vertical quake!”

The man in khaki shorts stiffened. “Wait, are you saying someone entered the realm while we were still in the middle of the sea?”

Chevonne nodded. “Yes. Remember, just because the whole island is a realm doesn’t mean the creator’s thought is confined to the island itself. We’re talking about the power of a creator’s mind here—it's vast. Of the four realms, this one only appears smaller because it takes the form of an island. But a wise thinker would know the realm stretches far beyond that, even into the surrounding sea.”

“So, you’re saying the heir—or the next creator—is someone from the barge? A passenger? A crew member?”

“Yes,” Chevonne confirmed.

I finally spoke up, the realization sinking in. “And that means the next creator is already here.”

Jelly and the man in khaki shorts both turned toward me.

Chevonne gave me a faint smile before her expression darkened. She looked back at the old man, her voice soft and sad. “And the takeover is almost complete.”

But who was it? Was the next creator among the survivors at the beach—or one of us?

The old man stood slowly and patted Chevonne’s shoulder. She glanced away, looking uncomfortable, but said nothing.

“Thank you, little girl,” he murmured. “Me is continue.”

He shuffled toward a small cupboard beneath the staircase, a space that reminded me oddly of Harry Potter. When he opened it, he retrieved something small and delicate.

It was a crescent moon pendant.

The weight of nostalgia seemed to press on him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he clutched the pendant close to his chest. His voice, heavy with grief, trembled.

He told us a story that was difficult to understand because of his speech pattern.

But here was how it happened if his speech was normal:

"I... I had a woman I truly loved. She was the love of my life. Before I began the transference, I loved traveling—seeing all the places I could. One day, I went to Iligan, and that's where I met Marigold. She was beauty and wisdom, all in one. We spent time together, we laughed, we... I asked her to travel with me. However, she rejected me.

"One rainy day, I met a man on a cruise ship I was on. I had—" He coughed violently, clutching his chest, then collapsed to his knees.

I rushed toward him, but the man in khaki shorts got there first, steadying him and helping him back to his feet. The old man gave a weak, grateful smile before continuing.

"Francoise... He was a noble, serious man. A friend. We often crossed paths on our journeys. During that five-day trip, he told me he'd met someone."

The old man's voice softened, haunted by old memories.

"He was with Marigold. Eventually... I gave up. I let her go. She gave back the pendant I had given her." He held up the crescent moon charm, its surface catching the dim light. "But I couldn't accept it. I gave it back and told her to keep it.

"I returned to my realm and began the transference rite to live out the rest of my life here. I was single, with no heir to inherit my realm, so I used an artifact. I invited Francoise and Marigold here for their honeymoon. However, a group of thinkers discovered this realm and followed them. Then... The killings happened."

We held our breath, hanging on his every word despite his fragmented speech. Something about his pain still pierced through.

"Everyone here during that time... was killed. Except Marigold and me. Francoise managed to escape, but I don't know what became of him. Marigold and I stayed in this hotel during the killings. The thinkers—the killers—called themselves the Young Bloods. They couldn't kill me because they needed the realm transferred to their teacher, who they called Master. They wanted to steal the realm.

"I lied. I pretended I was going to transfer the realm to their leader. I begged them to spare Marigold so I could finish the rite. I told her to run and never lose the pendant I gave her. But they caught her. They erased her." His voice broke, but he pressed on.

"I kept begging them to spare her. Desperate, I even suggested she could lure other thinkers if their maledicter would curse her to do so.

"They freed her. But then... Their maledicter cursed me—to keep me from speaking to anyone for the rest of my life. However, she wasn't skilled enough to make the curse permanent. Instead, she cursed me to speak unintelligibly, so I couldn't reveal the truth if thinkers ever arrived here. They couldn't erase me. It was too risky, especially during the transference."

Jelly studied him closely, her expression serious, sweat dampening her forehead.

A long silence followed. No one spoke.

Finally, the old man continued, his voice gentler, more careful.

"So... Sorry if I can't speak well. When I was first cursed, I couldn't talk clearly at all. But for the last nine years, I practiced. I practiced and practiced... until I could speak just well enough for someone to understand.

"Then, they turned my realm into a hideout. A training ground for the next Young Bloods. My beasts here... They’re good practice for their killings. They visited me often, mocked me, punched me, kicked me, cursed me. They’re just kids... but brutal."

We stayed quiet, absorbing his words.

"Every time they returned," he continued, his voice trembling, "their leader told me news about Marigold. They said she had remarried after they erased her. To Francoise's friend, of all people. I never even knew.

"The worst part? Marigold had two children with Francoise. Two—already twelve and eleven years old. I... I didn’t even realize.

"Then, they told me they erased her again. And her children, too. All because she started remembering who she was."

His voice shook with anger.

"They let her remarry again after that. This time... to a drunkard."

Suddenly, he punched the nearby cabinet. His fist went straight through the wood.

We all jumped—except Jelly.

Tears streaked her face. Silent, steady tears.

She didn’t even seem aware of them.

The man in khaki shorts noticed first. "Jelly... What’s wrong?"

She blinked, dazed, as if coming back to the present. "What’s wrong?"

"You’re crying."

"What?" She touched her cheeks, wiping them quickly. "I—no. It’s just... I feel like he’s been defeated all this time. And despite everything, he still loves her."

The old man calmed himself, then he slowly approached her. He knelt in front of her and gently took her hands. His gaze softened as he whispered,

"Those eyes... I can’t forget those eyes. And those lips..."

"Wh—what?" Jelly yanked her hands away and leapt off the couch, looking disgusted. "What are you doing?"

The old man lowered his head and turned away. He shuffled back to the bar, sank onto his chair, and stroked the beast beside him. It groaned softly, then it began to purr.

After a long pause, he spoke again.

"Aside from the Young Bloods, there was another man who visited me. From time to time. He worked for a shipping line—his boat often crossed near this island. Though he's dead now, his visits always brought me news of Marigold’s children."

He looked up, his voice hollow.

"He was Francoise’s best friend. The man Marigold remarried first. She gave him the pendant I gave her before he died—killed by the Young Bloods. But before that... He passed the pendant to Marigold’s eldest daughter. That was when Marigold almost remembered who she truly was."

I couldn’t hold back anymore. "Do you know what happened when she remarried for the second time?"

The old man gave me a sad smile.

"A Young Blood once told me she became... an investigator. For two years. Then... a teacher. Until they erased her again."

His voice broke with sorrow.

"And... though purely coincidence, or maybe they planned it all along, they said her eldest daughter applied to the very school where Marigold was teaching."

He paused, his eyes distant.

"That’s when I started to believe it was fate."

Silence fell.

The entire lounge seemed to shrink into a void. None of us spoke. None of us even breathed.

Without meaning to, we all found ourselves staring at Jelly.

She shivered, her lips trembling as she forced herself to speak. Her voice cracked. "H—hey, I've been meaning to ask... The pendant you gave Marigold... It wasn’t a crescent moon pendant, was it?"

The old man nodded solemnly. "Yes. It was."

Jelly's face twisted in confusion. "But... You’re holding it right now!"

He sighed, locking eyes with her. "This one is mine. I gave her the other half. Together, they make a full moon. You... You said your family name is Diaz, right?"

Jelly’s eyes welled up again. With a quiet sob, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small red pouch.

Her hand slid inside.

She withdrew a pendant.

It was a crescent moon pendant.

Everything clicked into place. My heart pounded as I shot to my feet. The pieces had fallen together so perfectly, so painfully clear, that I couldn’t speak.

Jelly clutched the pendant tightly, tears spilling freely. "This... This was my father’s gift! He told me my mother gave it to him before she died. He said it was just a lucky charm... meant to attract love."

Her voice broke into a wail. She dropped her head onto the coffee table, sobbing into her hands.

Chevonne gently rubbed her back, her own face pale with realization. She knew, too. We all did.

The old man coughed again, clutching his chest. The man in khaki shorts caught him, steadying him by the shoulders.

With a shaking hand, the old man reached for Jelly’s pendant. He took it then pressed it against his own.

The two crescent moons clicked together—forming a perfect circle.

He looked at Jelly, voice breaking as he whispered, "Small girl... You are Marigold’s eldest child. The pendant I gave her is a blessed artifact. And you... You will be the next creator."