The dawn after the attack broke pale and thin over Manila. Smoke curled from the summit walls where stone had split under the Bakunawa's assault. The banners of the ASEAN Relics Summit hung in tatters, some half-buried in wet sand, others soaked in seawater and ash.
Kael stood at the edge of the courtyard, his boots still sinking into mud left by the tide. The night's chaos still echoed — the roar of the sea beast, the haunting flute, the sight of Lee Jin-ah's eyes swallowed by shadow.
"Feels quiet," Sena said beside him, "but not safe."
It was true. The bay lay glassy and still, the early sunlight painting it gold. But that stillness felt wrong, like a held breath.
Inside the half-ruined great hall, the surviving leaders gathered. Juan Dela Cruz stood at the head of the table, his Kris laid across the wood like a silent warning. Beside him, Cess's spear was propped against the wall, still faintly glowing from the night before.
Voices clashed the moment Kael's group entered.
"We cannot wait another day," Jeong-hwi of the Seong Moon Sect snapped, slamming his palm onto the table. His ash swirled restlessly around him. "They attacked here, on our soil, and you want to… talk?"
"And do what, exactly?" Suzume's tone was icy. "Charge into the dark without knowing where they've gone? That is not strategy — that is suicide."
"They'll only strike again if we hesitate."
"And they'll strike harder if we blunder in blind."
The argument spiraled, pulling in other voices — leaders from Thailand, Malaysia, and Vietnam, their tempers sharpened by fear.
Kael felt the weight of certain eyes on him. One representative from Brunei leaned to his counterpart and muttered just loud enough, "Strange how they were near the shoreline when it began."
Another from Myanmar said, "And where is the proof that this Lee Jin-ah was under Ottalaus' influence? Convenient to blame it all on one missing woman."
Sena bristled. "You think we staged a sea monster attack?"
Kael touched her arm, a silent warning. Getting dragged into their politics now would only make things worse.
Juan Dela Cruz raised his voice over the din. "Enough. We stand together, or we fall apart. This summit was meant to unite us. If we let last night turn us into enemies, then Ottalaus has already won."
It quieted the room, but Kael saw the way some exchanged looks — the words had cooled tempers, not erased suspicion.
Later, in one of the smaller chambers where broken stone let shafts of sunlight in, Kael, Sena, and Cess gathered.
"She wasn't in control," Kael said first, leaning against the wall. "I saw it — the shadow in her eyes, the way she fought the song for a moment."
Sena nodded. "That wasn't her. The flute… it's corrupted. We've seen relic corruption before, but this was deeper. Like the flute was alive and Ottalaus was speaking through it."
Cess's fingers tightened around her spear. "Then we find her. My relic reacted the second she began playing — it can do it again. If I focus, I can trace where she's gone."
"Won't that lead us straight into Ottalaus' hands?" Sena asked.
"Yes," Cess said flatly. "But he's not the one holding that flute."
As they spoke, Kael's gaze drifted to the chamber entrance.
Two summit guards passed by, speaking in hushed tones. One wore the crest of the Malaysian delegation, the other from Laos. Their eyes flicked inside the room for a heartbeat too long before they moved on.
Kael didn't miss the way they avoided Juan Dela Cruz entirely. Nor the faint trace of shadow clinging to their boots — the same residue he'd seen near Lee Jin-ah the night before.
"They're not all gone," Kael murmured.
Sena's brow furrowed. "The traitors?"
He nodded. "Some stayed behind. Maybe to watch. Maybe to finish what they started."
Cess glanced toward the door. "Then we move fast. Before they know we're leaving."
By the time the sun was fully up, the hall had settled into a fragile ceasefire. Some leaders left to assess their damaged ships; others ordered scouts into the countryside.
Kael sat alone at the far end of the courtyard, diary open on his knee. His pen — the same strange one he'd had since childhood — scratched across the page.
"Ottalaus took her. Not just her body, but her will. If I can break his hold, maybe I can bring her back. But if I can't… then I'll make sure she can't be used against us again."
The ink bled a little where his grip tightened.
Sena approached quietly. "Writing another vow?"
He closed the diary. "Something like that."
A Decision Made
That night, while most of the summit tried to sleep, Kael's group made ready. Cess had traced the faint pull of her spear — northwest, toward the coasts where the sea met broken cliffs.
Before they could slip away, Juan Dela Cruz stopped them. "If you go, you go without the summit's backing. Too many here still doubt you."
"Then it's better if they don't know where we're headed," Kael said.
Juan studied him for a moment, then looked to his daughter. "Bring her back, Cess. Or… make sure she's at peace."
Cess only nodded.
They left under the cover of darkness, but Kael knew they weren't alone. Somewhere behind them, in the broken city, traitorous eyes still watched — and reported — their every move.