"Even in borrowed breaths, the living defy the gods—by choosing to love, not to serve."
Enchanted Land, Sta. Rosa
The world had begun to mend itself in peculiar ways.
Skies above Sta. Rosa shimmered with ethereal traces of myth-tech energy, soft as dusk fire and imbued with promise. The air carried the sweet scent of rain and sugar, reminiscent of festival nights. Neon lights and glyph lanterns floated gracefully above the gates of Enchanted Land, an amusement park where Myth-Tech machinery seamlessly intertwined with Glyph Logic Technology, creating wonders that were neither entirely divine nor human.
The ferris wheel turned in perfect symmetry, its structure supported by levitating seals that pulsed gently with a pale golden light. Roller coasters glided along trails of glowing runes, their paths twisting through the air like ribbons of lightning.
Each ride produced dazzling light visuals—glyph-based projections that painted the night sky with vibrant arcs of color, depicting phoenixes, dragons, and forgotten constellations. The entire park seemed to breathe in harmony with its own energy, every attraction a song composed in light.
It was one of the few remaining places in the Republic where the living could temporarily forget that the heavens were fractured.
Gregorio Aguilar walked alongside Kristel, blending into the soft hum of laughter and music beneath the glyph-lit canopy. The air shimmered against the faint pulse beneath his sleeves—the subdued rhythm of the Kamay ni Bathala, no longer flaring as it had in Bulakan.
He wore his pressed military uniform, its dark fabric immaculate yet subtly marked by traces of salt and dust along the cuffs. The silver insignia on his collar caught the light as they passed beneath the hovering lanterns, and although the uniform had been meticulously cleaned, it bore the quiet weight of a man who had marched through storms, steadfast in his duty. His polished boots and exact posture reflected discipline, not comfort.
Beside him, Kristel moved effortlessly through the crowd. Her white dress fluttered just above the wet pavement, her hair loosely tied, and the subtle shimmer in her eyes captured every flicker of passing glyph light.
To an observer, they could have seemed two individuals enjoying a tranquil evening—one too immaculate to belong, the other too ethereal to appear entirely real.
"It feels strange," Kristel remarked as they walked beneath a floating arch of glyphs that scattered soft blue rain-light over the crowd.
"To see this many people gathered in one place again."
Gregorio's gaze followed hers toward the ferris wheel. The cabins reached their apex, releasing cascades of color that fell like fragments of aurora through the mist.
"Strange," he conceded. "But good. They're pretending the war is over. Perhaps that's how peace begins."
"Pretending is a form of faith," she replied softly.
They stopped at a vendor stall where mist-woven cotton candy spun within a glyph containment ring. Gregorio purchased two servings. Kristel accepted hers with a faint smile as the sugar dissolved into light against her fingertips.
They settled by the lake, where reflections of the rides rippled across the water.
Projections from the ferris wheel formed drifting stars and lotus-shaped bursts of light.
For a moment, they remained silent—the world around them vibrant with motion and sound, a fragile illusion of serenity.
Kristel broke the silence.
"You're still wondering why Sitan allowed me to leave."
Gregorio's tone remained even. "You already know the answer to that."
"He didn't say much," she replied, her gaze lowering to the glowing water. "Only that my time in here was 'a borrowed breath.' Then the gate opened, and I walked out." She paused. "He didn't even look back."
Gregorio leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "The Lord of Kasanaan does not extend mercy. When I lost control… when grief consumed me… they stood firm even when the Kamay could have erased them."
He glanced at his hands; the faint violet hue beneath his sleeves flickered once before fading. "Now he permits you to walk free? That is not kindness; it is intent."
Kristel turned to him, her face illuminated by the reflections of glyph light. "Perhaps he saw something I did not. Maybe this is the cost of survival."
Gregorio shook his head. "Sitan does not act alone. If Dian Alintana was present, they are already strategizing their next move."
Her voice dropped. "Do you believe I'm being manipulated?"
"I believe we both are." His words were sharp yet subdued. "The gods do not release individuals—they reposition them."
She looked down at her hands. "What, then, should I do?"
He leaned back, allowing the glow of the rides to envelop them both. "Live. That is what they do not expect. Whatever their plan entails, I will not allow them to make you part of it."
"And if they already have?"
He turned to her with a faint, weary smile.
"Then I'll break the board."
They remained as the light sequence commenced. Glyph rings turned overhead, scattering luminous shapes into the clouds—phoenixes circling, waterfalls of starlight cascading through the night.
Children cheered.
Couples pointed upward in awe.
Gregorio observed, unmoving, letting the hum of glyph energy and laughter fill the spaces he could no longer reach.
He and Kristel later rode the levitating carousel, the mounts gliding above the ground in perfect harmony. Trails of living light followed their movements, creating spirals of color that drifted upward like fragments of constellations.
Kristel laughed as her mount rose slightly higher, her hair catching strands of silver luminescence. Gregorio smiled faintly—awkward, fleeting, yet genuine.
At the Skyglide Tower, transparent glyph panels elevated them above the park, their feet resting on fields of light that rippled like calm water. From that height, the city sprawled outward—Laguna's lakes glimmering below, the faint lights of the Capital flickering far beyond.
Kristel leaned against the railing. "Do you ever contemplate it? Peace?"
He answered without diverting his gaze. "All the time."
"What would it look like if it were to endure?"
"Unrecognizable," he replied after a pause.
"Because we would no longer need to name it."
She smiled faintly. "And yet you fight for it."
"I fight so that others can cease fighting. That is close enough."
Their reflections mingled in the glass beneath them—his uniform dark against the light, hers pale and shifting like mist.
"Still, you do not trust them, do you?" she asked.
Gregorio's eyes narrowed toward the horizon. "I trust the dead more than the divine."
As they descended, rain returned—gentle and silver, droplets refracting through scattered glyph lights that painted every surface in vibrant color.
They walked toward the exit in silence, passing beneath the archway sign that read:
Enchanted Land — Where Memories Live Again
Gregorio paused beneath it, his shoulders squared, the faint glow beneath his sleeves steady and restrained. "It seems fitting," he murmured. "Even the dead find their way back here."
Kristel looked up at him, rain glistening in her hair. "Then perhaps it's a place for the living to remember what that means."
He nodded, his eyes tracing the horizon. "Sitan is watching. So is Fate. They are moving pieces again."
Kristel slipped her hand into his. "Then let them watch."
The faint violet shimmer beneath his cuff pulsed once, then dimmed into stillness.
The gods could wait.
Tonight belonged to the living.
Between Shadows and Trust
The drive back to Biñan was marked by an unsettling quiet. Lights from the highway flickered across the windshield like ethereal specters, casting transient glows upon Gregorio's face.
Beside him, Kristel sat with her hands folded in her lap, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Neither spoke; the silence was heavy with unvoiced questions and insufficient truths.
Upon their arrival, Kristel lingered by the door while Gregorio unlatched his sidearm and set it aside. The faint hum of the generator filled the void between them.
"When will you be back?" she finally asked.
Gregorio tightened the strap of his wrist brace. "When it's finished."
Kristel frowned. "You always say that."
He managed a small, weary smile. "Because it's always true."
Stepping closer, she spoke softly. "You don't have to face everything alone."
Gregorio's gaze met hers, the faint shimmer of the Kamay visible beneath his sleeve. "It's not about doing it alone," he replied. "It's about keeping you out of it."
Before Kristel could respond, a familiar voice interjected from behind him.
"Still trying to be the protector, even when the world is in disarray."
Gregorio turned to see Maximo Imperial standing at the entrance, his posture relaxed and expression inscrutable. The faint runes along the Sumpit ni Dumalapdap glimmered as he shifted his weight.
Gregorio did not appear surprised. "We need to talk."
Kristel's eyes darted between them. "He's here for you?"
Gregorio nodded once. "It's business."
She hesitated before asking quietly, "And when will I see you again?"
He reached out, brushing his thumb against her wrist. "When it's safe."
Her gaze softened but retained its sharpness. "You never seem to know what that means anymore."
He offered no reply, merely stepping back.
Kristel gave a small nod and disappeared down the hall.
Gregorio and Maximo exchanged a glance laden with unspoken history before heading upstairs.
The rooftop was dimly illuminated by light spilling from the stairwell. Beyond the railing, the city lay still—its towers mere silhouettes against the horizon. A steady breeze swept through, lifting the hem of Gregorio's coat as he approached the edge.
"She'll be safer here," he said, his eyes scanning the skyline.
Maximo crossed his arms. "You sound confident. I can't be here every night, you know."
"I'm not asking you to," Gregorio replied. "I just need time."
"Time is a rare commodity these days." Maximo's tone held a hint of humor, though it did not reach his eyes. "You keep claiming you're handling it, yet you never specify what it is."
Gregorio met his gaze. "You didn't come here to question me."
"No," Maximo replied. "I came to see if you've begun asking the right questions."
Gregorio frowned. "Such as?"
Maximo studied him intently, then said simply, "Who is truly orchestrating this game?"
Gregorio exhaled softly. "You're going to tell me it isn't Ahas, aren't you?"
Maximo shook his head. "Ahas ng mga Lakan, the Babaylans, even the Republic—they're all symptoms. They chase relics, unaware they're pursuing locks. The truth lies not in what the relics do, but in what they conceal."
Gregorio furrowed his brow. "And what lies behind those locks?"
"That," Maximo said, "is what everyone fears to uncover. Yet those navigating the shadows are unafraid. They are preparing."
Gregorio's eyes narrowed. "You seem to know more than you should."
Maximo offered a quiet, humorless smile. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps that's why they keep me where I am."
"Do you trust them?" Gregorio inquired.
"No," Maximo replied. "I trust purpose. I trust that someone must remain vigilant while others battle the wrong enemy."
Gregorio's tone sharpened. "You've always excelled at balancing loyalty and treachery."
Maximo responded evenly. "And you've always had a knack for dying on the right side of history. The problem is, history no longer favors either side."
They stood in silence for a prolonged moment. The light from below illuminated the edges of their relics—Maximo's flute and Gregorio's bracers—each a remnant of something ancient, restless, and observant.
Gregorio broke the silence first. "You're suggesting something worse is approaching."
"I'm stating it's almost here," Maximo replied. "When it surfaces, it won't matter which faction's banner you stand under."
Gregorio shifted his gaze toward the horizon. "Then we finish what we started."
Maximo nodded once. "Different paths, same mission."
He extended his hand, and Gregorio grasped it firmly, wordlessly affirming their pact.
"Just promise me one thing," Maximo said, stepping back. "When everything collapses, do not involve her."
Gregorio remained silent, knowing he didn't need to respond.
Maximo gave a slight nod and headed toward the stairwell. "We'll meet again soon, Captain. Try not to instigate the next war without me."
Once Maximo departed, Gregorio lingered by the railing, his reflection faint upon the darkened metal. The Kamay ni Bathala pulsed beneath his sleeve—a steady heartbeat in the stillness of the night.
He glanced once towards the hall where Kristel rested, then back to the horizon.
Whatever awaited them, he understood it would not remain concealed for long.