"Mom?" Cecilia's voice cracked with desperate hope. "It's you... You're my mother." She dropped to her knees beside the ghost, trembling hands reaching out, aching to bridge the impossible distance between them.
But the white lady recoiled, shoving Cecilia's hands away with frantic, fearful motions. "No! I'm not your mother. I don't know you!" Her voice was sharp, filled with anguish and denial, as if the truth itself was a torment she couldn't bear.
Still, Cecilia refused to give up. Her voice was soft but insistent, a fragile thread of love cutting through the cold air. "Mom, it's me. I'm your daughter, Cee." But the ghost's face remained hidden behind a veil of pale hair, and every attempt to touch her was met with rejection.
"Miss Bermudez, what are you saying?" Bustamante's voice broke through the tension, laced with confusion and disbelief.
Murillo's brow furrowed in worry. "Why would you call her your mother?"
"Because I know that voice," Cecilia whispered, her heart shattering with every word. "She's my mother—Selina Bermudez. The youngest child and only daughter of my pop." Her fingers trembled as she gently wrapped around the specter's cold form, refusing to let go. "Mom, please… don't push me away."
With a trembling hand, Cecilia brushed the ghost's hair aside. The face beneath was pale and fragile, but unmistakably hers. Tears spilled freely down Cecilia's cheeks as she whispered, "Mom? I knew it was you. I would never forget your voice." She clung to her mother, her whole soul pouring into the embrace.
And then, as if the dam of sorrow finally broke, Selina's resistance crumbled. The ghost's arms wrapped around Cecilia, trembling with the weight of years lost and pain endured. "Oh, my Cee… my precious little girl," Selina sobbed, her voice breaking through the silence like a shattered melody. "How I have missed you… How I have longed for you."
They held each other tightly, two broken souls reunited in a moment that was both a blessing and a wound, torn between the living and the dead, love and loss, hope and heartbreak.
They brought Selina back to the Twilight along with the other two white ladies, where, under Chief Murillo's careful and watchful supervision, a remarkable transformation began. The matted, greasy hair that clung to their ghostly forms was gently untangled and washed away, revealing soft, shimmering locks that caught the light like spun silver. Layers of grime and slime that once stained their ethereal skin faded, replaced by a radiant, almost otherworldly glow. Tattered, dirt-encrusted garments were replaced with flowing robes of delicate fabric, pristine and shimmering with subtle hues that shifted with every movement.
As Selina and the other two stepped out of the saloon, the once grotesque specter had become a vision of haunting beauty—their eyes bright and clear, her posture graceful and poised. Every head turned, every whisper hushed, as they moved with an elegance that seemed both timeless and mesmerizing, captivating all who beheld them. The lost souls were no longer a figure of fear but stunning ladies who commanded the attention of the Twilight with effortless charm.
When Chris caught sight of Selina's stunning transformation, he couldn't resist teasing, "Are you sure she's older than you? Honestly, she looks more like a younger sister."
Instantly, Chris felt the heat of Cecilia's dagger-sharp glare boring into him. "You do know she's my mother, right?" Cecilia snapped, raising her fist like she was about to deliver a warning punch.
Chris took a quick, nervous step back, hands raised in mock surrender. "Okay, okay! Pink, no need to get all fierce on me," he joked, flashing her a crooked smile that only made Cecilia's eyes narrow even more.
Beneath the teasing, though, Chris's heart skipped a beat—there was something about the way Cecilia defended her family that made him want to hold her a little closer, even if it meant dodging a few painful punches.
Chris and Chief Murillo escorted Selina toward the conference room, while Cecilia took it upon herself to handle the growing crowd of curious male onlookers. She planted her hands firmly on her hips and raised her voice, "Nothing to see here, gentlemen! Move along—back to your stations!"
But the crew wasn't quite ready to disperse. As a low whistle echoed from the back, Cecilia spun around with a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "Hey! Stop cat-calling at my mother!" she snapped, pointing an accusing finger at an embarrassed crewman who immediately ducked his head.
Not stopping there, she paced in front of the group, wagging a finger like a strict schoolteacher. "And no, she does not do autographs. No selfies! No asking for her number—she's taken… by me." She shot a pointed look at Chris, who grinned sheepishly.
One bold sailor tried to joke, "But Miss Bermudez, your mom, she's stunning!"
Cecilia narrowed her eyes. "Stunning and off-limits, got it? Or I'll throw you to the Kasanaan!"
The men shuffled awkwardly away, muttering apologies, while Cecilia crossed her arms triumphantly, clearly proud of her hilarious, if slightly over-the-top, protective display. Chris caught her eye and chuckled, shaking his head. "You sure know how to keep a crowd in line."
"Someone's got to," Cecilia shot back with a smirk. "Besides, who else is going to keep you in check?"
Chris cleared his throat, ready to kick off the debriefing, but his eyes kept darting to the crewmen pressed against the windows like a pack of overly curious puppies. Finally, he threw up his hands in frustration. "Chief Murillo, would you please? These window-peeping idiots are starting to get on my last nerve."
"Aye, Captain," Murillo said with a smirk, standing up like a general about to lead a charge. She marched over and slammed the blinds and curtains shut with the flair of a magician ending a trick.
From outside, Chris could hear a chorus of disappointed groans and muffled protests, like a bunch of disappointed kids. With a stoic and stern demeanor, he shifted his attention to Selina. "Miss Selina? Pink…I mean, Cecilia's mom. Can you tell us what happened?"
"Yes, Mom. What happened to you? It's been almost thirteen years; I was sure you and Dad would've been in Kaginhawaan by now." Cecilia asked while leaning on her mother's shoulders.
Selina wrapped her arms around her daughter. "What about you, Cee? Why are you here?" She then turned to the captain, "Isn't this the barge of the dead? Why is my daughter on this ship?"