"You must shake or shatter the vase to spread its perfume; you must smite the rock to get the spark!"
- Father Florentino to the Dying Simoun
As rumors spread at Itakam, Penumbra found a new fuqel for their rebellion in the person of Mayari. Below the Theater, along a dimly lit hall, Mayari, and Kario stood at the center of a room along the end of the hall. They're with Tata Islaw, Kuroy and Agni.
"Dayang," Kario began, his voice steady as always, "in terms of numbers, Iberia has a staggering advantage."
"No," Mayari firmly remarked, "It's not about numbers." She added. Her eyes turned to the map on the table. "At Kubiz, we managed to gain the upper hand despite the number difference. What we lacked were capable commanders... and weapons."
Kario sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're right..." he admitted. "We've tried smuggling weapons from the northern nations, but Iberian ships intercepted the shipment before it could reach us." He paused, bowing his head as though the failure weighed physically on him. "Since then, the northern nations have refused to supply us. They're too afraid of provoking Iberia."
I heard about that," Mayari said quietly. "That was just last year, right?"
Kario's fist clenched into a ball, "Yes, that damn Antonio sold us out. That man betrayed us. Because of him, fifty-three of our comrades, fifty-three good men died." Kario's voice faltered as his words choked in his throat.
Mayari studied Kario's expression, "I'm surprised you still remember their exact number Supremo." Her tone was soft, like a mother checking up on her child.
The Supremo gave a weak, bitter smile. "Dayang, when people put their lives in your hands," he swallowed hard, "when they trusted you with all their heart... You don't forget them... not their names, not their faces."
The words hung heavily between them. Mayari's gaze at Kario softened, and without hesitation, she placed a steady hand on Kario's shoulder. Her touch was firm, grounding him in the moment.
"You're a good leader Supremo." She spoke.
"Thank you, Dayang," he said quietly. "But a good leader doesn't just carry their people's hope. They carry their ghosts too." His smile was fleeting, shadowed by the burden he bore.
Mayari withdrew her hand, letting his words settle over her. She understood his pain, though the princess bore it differently. "Then let's make sure their ghosts be laid in peace," she said at last.
Her words carried a spark of determination, igniting a faint flicker of hope in Kario's weary eyes. Together, they stood in the dimly lit chamber, their resolve quietly solidifying against the odds that threatened to break them.
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Under the vast, ink-black sky of Itakam, Wan lay flat on his back atop the roof of the Theater. The cool night air ruffled his hair, and the stars above glittered like scattered diamonds, their cold light reflecting in his eyes. He exhaled sharply, his breath a thin cloud in the crisp air, trying to push aside the thoughts gnawing at him. For days, he tried not to think about his teacher Hiraya, and the day they parted. But they wouldn't go away.
He stretched his arms over his head, fingers brushing the rough edges of his satchel before pulling out the tree bark, worn and cracked, the gift from the Berberokas at the cave in Banahaw. He held it up to the sky, the bark's surface rough against his palm.
"Shit..." he muttered under his breath, the words barely escaping as his mind swirled.
"Nanu ne pa ing gagawan ku keni?" He inspected the bark, checking every groove, crack, and all. He flipped it over and over, to find something code, a road map, a pattern. Despite his best efforts, all he can see is just a simple rugged bark.
Frustration escaped his voice as he groaned. "How come this one's a map?" His eyes were filled with disbelief, "This looks nothing but junk." He muttered while shaking his head. "Damn, looks like we're scammed."
The air of Itakam was filled with the sounds of distant chatter and creaks of carriages passing by below where Wan was. It was already around eight, yet Tunduvans at Itakam seemed to breathe a second wind on their day. Restaurants opened, and stalls were laid out on the middle of the main road for the night market.
"You damn saguiguilid slave!!!" A voice from below caught Wan's attention. Wan, perched on the rooftop of the Theater, froze for a moment, his gaze sharpening.
Wan squinted his eyes, narrowing to take in the sight of a young man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, tall and with broad shoulders that would give Kario a run for his money. The man raised his wooden cane and let it kiss the fragile body of a girl, no older than Agustin. Her hands covered her head as the man continued beating her body.
Another swing connected to the girl's cheek with a sickening crack. She gasped as she tried to stop giving the man the satisfaction of her cries. "I – I'm sorry, Ginoo... please for-."
Her plea was cut off as the cane slammed against her again, this time across her other cheek, knocking her head to the other side. The young man's face twisted in as she still refused to cry out. His grip tightened even more on his cane.
"Do you know how much Gramps paid for this barong!!??" His voice was a twisted, mocking sneer as he hit her again, sending her sprawling into the dirt.
Wan observed from the top of the building. His eyes flicked to the onlookers. A small crowd gathered. Some of them watched with mild curiosity, more intrigued by the reason why a five-foot-eight man is beating the shit out of a little girl. Others watched with faint smirks that tugged at the corners of their lips, as if the girl's suffering were a mere inconvenience in their otherwise fun evening. A few muttered under their breath, but no one dared intervene. Their eyes were trained more on the young man's pristine barong, perhaps admiring its fine silk or the elegant embroidery on the sleeves, than on the girl who bore the brunt of his rage.
Wan let out a soft, almost inaudible chuckle as he watched, as though observing a play that had gone horribly wrong.
"Damn..." he whispered under his breath, "Bay-an will be fuming if he sees this, hehehe..."
His tone was cold, as if he were commenting on a casual play. His gaze returned to the girl, now curled on the ground. Her face was bruised, her left cheek swollen. The young man exhaled, as if beating her gave him a wild workout. He kicked her once more on her ribs before turning around in his carriage.
Some of the crowd seemed to exhale in unison, the tension dissipating as they returned to their hushed conversations. Some continued selling their items, while others continued walking.
The little girl started to crawl along the rough pavement. Her whole body trembled in pain. Her hands scraped against the stones, blood mixed with the dust, but she didn't make a sound, her face twisted in pain. Yet, she pulled herself toward the shadow of the opposite building of the theater, seeking a moment of rest from the cold stares of the street.
Wan remained on the rooftop, eyes locked on her. "So what should I do?" he thought, his gaze drifting from the girl's frail form to the bustling streets below. "I'm not even a Tunduvan. Hell, I don't even know if I'm from Ma-i. Her own people don't even care for her... so why should I?"
He shifted his weight, sitting up straighter, as if physically pushing away the creeping thoughts. He let out a sharp breath, trying to convince himself away from the nagging thought on his mind. 'There's nothing I can do,' he reasoned. 'I'm just some outsider here. She's not my responsibility. The world doesn't stop for one broken kid.'
Wan, crouched across the rooftop, finally let out a low sigh, his fingers tapping the edge of his satchel. Then, as if time itself stopped. The little girl gazed at Wan, as if she were looking in his soul. Wan paused for a little while; his body shivered for a second. His throat swallowed hard without him knowing. A tug on his heart echoed throughout his whole body... no, soul. "What is this girl?" Wan asked himself.
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It's been about two to three weeks since that book transported me to this world. Since then, I have seen lots of stuff. Mayari was inside, planning god knows what with Papa K. I wonder what Mama and kuya's doing now. They must be worried sick now. It's been a while, yet I still feel a dampness on my cheeks every time I remember them.
Mayari told me she'll help me get back to earth. However, the more that I know her, the more that I doubt her words. Especially after that little argument we had back at the coffee shop... well, if you can even call it that... I should have listened to my Philo teacher when she was teaching us how to debate.
My thoughts were pulled after I heard a loud yelling just outside. "YOU DAMN SLAVE!" I peeked from the window to see where the voice came from. Just below the second floor. I saw a man, around his twenties, maybe, beating a young girl. I was urged to look away as he proceeded to beat the girl. The crowd around them just watched... if just watching isn't bad enough, some of them were even giggling as if watching a comedy.
"What's wrong with these people?" I whispered to myself. I got out of my room and left Agustin, who was peacefully sleeping. I rushed down the stairs to help the little girl.
Upon opening the door, the crowd was already gone, and the man was also gone. The girl was now at the opposite side of the road. Her body's shaking. People just passed by her; some looked at her, some smirked. What's wrong with them!?
I looked left and right to go help her. While running towards her, I saw her staring up at the theater. What is she looking at? Her left cheek was swelling, while her right eye was crimson red. I was near her when her gaze turned towards me. I felt something weird crawling on my spine as I met her gaze. Who is this girl?
I was about to take her when Wan suddenly came out of nowhere and went to her. "Wan!" I exclaimed at him.
"Oi, Given." He said as he squatted in front of the beaten girl. He turned his attention to her, "Oi, you alright, kid?" The girl didn't move. Her nose was stuffed with blood. "Just try breathing with your mouth for now."
Wan gently lifted her on his arms as he walked inside the building. People gazed at him as if they were amused. Assholes. I followed Wan back inside the building. Wan's expression seemed conflicted. I don't know, but it looks like he's not really sure what... or maybe why he did what he did just now.
Agni, who was in the main hall, looked up from the low-burning fire as we entered, his eyes narrowing in surprise at the sight of the girl on Wan's arms.
"Who's this?" He asked, as he inspected the girl.
"Dunno..." Wan muttered, "We saw her on the street, getting beaten by a maginoo." He glanced down at the girl, whose frame trembled in his arms.
Agni's face seemed to be painted red as he heard what Wan said. He lets them inside a room near Mayari's. They lowered the girl on a wooden rattan bed and Agni quickly took water and white fabric to dress the girl's wounds and bruises.
AGNI worked with careful movements, wiping away the blood from the girl's nose and cheeks, his fingers gentle, yet quick. "Her face is a bloody mess," he muttered while brushing the girl's hair from her forehead, as if every action was an apology for what had been done to her. The girl winced, but didn't flinch away, too weak to protest.
Wan didn't speak for a long moment, his eyes flicking between Agni's movements and the girl. The girl's small hands clutched at the edge of her torn blouse, barely strong enough to move. Finally, after a long pause, he spoke. Wan has always been loud, but this was the first time that I heard him quite serious. "She'll be fine, right?" Agni nodded.
I glanced once again at the little girl. How can something like this happen to someone as little as her? I mean, what kind of things she had done to deserve something like this?