Felicita sat across from Apo Damili in the dimly lit chamber of the Royal Records Hall, the weight of his words sinking in like stones in a riverbed.
"Both worlds will vanish?" she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.
Apo Damili nodded solemnly. "The threads that separate your timeline and this one are fraying. The gem chose you for a reason."
"But I'm just… a student. I don't know anything about fixing timelines or finding relics."
He leaned forward, his white eyes steady and unreadable. "You don't need to know everything. You only need to begin."
Felicita's gaze dropped to the necklace resting against her chest. Even now, she could feel it pulsing—like a second heartbeat. The stone's inner glow returned, faint but constant. A living thing.
"What are these relics I'm supposed to find?" she asked.
Apo Damili stood and waved his hand. Three holographic images shimmered into the air: a crystal dagger, a carved golden ring, and a scroll sealed with obsidian wax.
> The Three Lost Relics of the Bayan
— The Dagger of Kalinaw (Peace)
— The Ring of Katotohanan (Truth)
— The Scroll of Katalinuhan (Wisdom)
"Each relic is hidden within one of the three great domains of this realm," he explained. "And each is guarded by more than just warriors—each domain tests the heart, not just the hand."
"Sounds... poetic," Felicita muttered. "But how am I supposed to get past warriors, cross kingdoms, and survive here when I don't even know where I am exactly?"
A soft hum emerged from the gem. A glowing compass materialized in front of her, its needle spinning until it pointed north.
"Your gem has begun scanning the realm," Apo said. "It will guide you. But the Market you accessed—it is unstable in this plane. Use it too often, and the link will burn out."
She watched the floating compass with awe. "Can I use the Market to find the relics?"
"Only in moments of true need," he replied. "The gem can sense intent. It rewards wisdom, not convenience."
Felicita leaned back, the gears in her mind turning. "So… three relics, one dying portal, a royal world I barely understand, and I've already made enemies on day one."
"You are learning quickly," Apo Damili said with a smile. "Come. I will take you to someone who can help you blend in."
---
The journey to the outskirts of the city was swift. Apo Damili led her through underground passages carved from volcanic stone. As they emerged through a hidden gate, Felicita's eyes widened.
Cebu had transformed.
Above them rose the skyline of a parallel capital—Lungsod ng Tala—a city of shimmering domes and bamboo towers entwined with glowing vines. Floating lanterns filled the air like fireflies. Ornate stone bridges arched over canals of clear blue water. And at the center, towering like a watchful guardian, stood a golden palace topped with three sun-shaped crests.
The monarchy was real here—alive and majestic.
And Felicita was definitely not supposed to be here.
---
They arrived at a quiet market district nestled beneath the shade of giant balete trees. Children played in the square while vendors sold exotic fruits and glowing fabrics. Apo stopped in front of a circular hut with curved bamboo walls and a roof thatched with woven seaweed.
"This is where she lives," he said. "Tell her I sent you."
Felicita opened the door slowly and stepped inside.
The scent of crushed herbs filled her nose. A woman stood in the center of the room, stirring a steaming pot over a firepit. She wore a flowing indigo robe, and silver tattoos spiraled across her arms and neck like vines.
She turned—and Felicita froze.
The woman had eyes exactly like hers.
"Ah," the woman said softly. "So you're the Delgado girl."
"You… know me?"
"I know your blood," she replied. "My name is Sinta. Your grandmother once saved me from the shadows of the North. You look just like her."
Felicita hesitated. "You… knew my Lola Adora?"
Sinta nodded, stepping closer. "She was the last one who tried to use the gem. She failed. But she gave everything so that it could find the right wielder."
Felicita's heart twisted. She remembered her grandmother's stories—half-whispers about other worlds, forgotten books, and "things we must never touch."
No one had believed her. Not even Felicita. Until now.
---
Sinta spent the next hour fitting Felicita with new clothes: a traveling tunic made of flexible woven fibers, lightweight sandals, and a shoulder pack embroidered with sun sigils.
"This will keep you unnoticed for now," she said. "And this—"
She handed Felicita a palm-sized mirror with glyphs around the edges.
"It will let you glimpse the truth behind appearances. Very useful in a land full of tricksters and shapeshifters."
Felicita tucked it into her bag, still trying to process the whirlwind of her day.
"Tomorrow," Sinta said, "you'll go to the Hari's Capital. There's a Festival of Tribute. You'll blend in and use the crowd as cover. But someone will be watching you. An enemy of the crown."
"Who?" Felicita asked.
"We don't know yet. But they want the gem."
Sinta knelt beside her and placed a warm hand over the necklace. "Protect it. It carries more than power—it holds a memory older than this world."
---
Night fell.
Felicita sat outside Sinta's hut, looking up at two moons glowing softly in the sky. One was full, pale, and peaceful. The other was crimson, like a bleeding eye.
She touched the gem again. It glowed faintly—responding to her touch.
Then, out of nowhere, the interface blinked back to life.
> Incoming Message:
To the Wielder of the Gem—You are not alone.
Others seek to rewrite the past.
The first attack comes tomorrow. Be ready.
Her blood ran cold.
"What does that mean?" she whispered.
But the screen faded before she could read more.
Somewhere in the forest behind her, something howled.
Felicita gripped her satchel and stood.
Tomorrow, the world would change again.
Can she really do this? Felicita doubted.
---
End of Chapter 3