May 7, 1890
On the seventh day of May in the year 1890, the trumpet of the benevolent deity Idianale, the secretary fairy of Bathala, sounded—a sign that an important council would convene among the Anito and Diwata with Bathala in Kalwahatian, the kingdom of the heavens.
At the heart of the Pure Well, all the Anito[1] and Diwata[2] assembled upon their appointed thrones. At the very top sat the highest god, Bathala; at the lower right, Aman Sinaya, goddess of the seas; at the lower left, Amihan, god of the wind; and in the center, Mangechay, god of Health.
Beneath them rested the three thrones of Bathala's mortal-born children. Two were occupied: Hanan, god of the Dawn, to the left; Tala, goddess of the Stars, in the center; while the right seat of Mayari, goddess of the Moon, remained empty. This was the royal family of Kalwahatian.
Beside them sat Idianale, goddess of Good Harvest and Benevolence, with her husband Dumangan, also a deity of Good Harvest—the chief secretaries of Bathala.
Surrounding them in a circle were the other Anito and Diwata serving as secretaries of Bathala: Aring Sinukuan, god of the Sun and War, with his child Apolaki; Libulan, goddess of the Moon; Sidapa, god of Death; Dian Masalanta, goddess of Love, Childbirth, and Peace; Mapulon, god of Weather, and his spouse Lakapati, goddess of Fertility and Agriculture; along with Dumakulem, Guardian of the Mountains, son of Idianale and Dumangan, and his spouse Anagolay, goddess of Lost Things.
At the far end of the circle sat Anitun Tabu, goddess of Wind and Rain, along with three Anito assigned to dwell among mortals: Lakan Danum, god of Water; Lakambini, goddess of Purity; and Lakan Bakod, god of Fences.
"What is the purpose of this council?" Bathala began, and all Anito and Diwata fell silent, bowing respectfully before the throne. After a pause, they lifted their heads as Bathala acknowledged their presence.
"Our Bathala, I must report that on the twenty-ninth of December will mark the twentieth year of the Moon's Ascendance, and when the goddess Mayari reaches the proper age since her rebirth at the Well of Life..." Aring Sinukuan spoke, pausing to glance at Apolaki, expressionless.
Before he could continue, Bathala's consort, Aman Sinaya, Queen of Kalwahatian and of the Seas, smiled faintly:
"Excuse me, noble Aring Sinukuan, but what is it that you truly wish to convey to our Bathala?"
From his neutral expression, Aring Sinukuan allowed a faint smile.
"I know, our Queen, that we can no longer conceal the absence of Apung Malyari, for it signals the fulfillment of the goddess's coming of age."
"Blasphemy!" Aman Sinaya's voice echoed through the hall. Even more shocking were Aring Sinukuan's words, for he was the one who had slain the former Apung Malyari.
"Apung Sinukuan..." Bathala began.
"Our Bathala..." Apung Sinukuan replied.
"Tell me what you wish to happen regarding this," Bathala said, placing a hand upon his chin in thought.
"But Bathala—" Aman Sinaya began, anger rising, but Bathala interrupted sharply:
"Let him speak, Sinaya." Sinaya's eyes widened, but she restrained herself.
"Our Bathala, it is lamentable, but if we do not find Apung Malyari... and if indeed her soul has perished in the mortal realm, preventing her from fulfilling her duties as a goddess... she must be punished!"
Whispers rippled among the Anito and Diwata, while Apolaki remained silent, eyes cast downward.
"Is it not yet May, six months before the Moon's Ascendance, and yet you urge me to decide the fate of my child... Mayari?" Bathala replied. Aring Sinukuan lowered his gaze as murmurs continued.
"But our Bathala, with all due respect, I believe that six months from now is the proper time to intensify the search for Apung Malyari. On the night of the ceremony, when Mount Pinatubo erupted, the mortals will surely rise against the moon god guarding them. As a result, Apung Malyari may gradually lose her worshippers, leading to her eternal demise," Dumakulem, Guardian of the Mountains, stated solemnly.
"Bathala..." Aman Sinaya whispered.
"Idianale, send the highest-ranked biraddali among mortals to search for Mayari," Bathala commanded. The biraddali were celestial messengers serving the gods of Kalwahatian.
"In that case, I will send the biraddali of the Health Kingdom to aid in finding Malyari, if she indeed... teeters on the edge of death," Mangechay replied, the elder sage and mind of Bathala, for this decision affected all others, and Bathala himself.
"But what if we do not find her before the Moon's Ascendance?" Dian Masalanta asked.
"Death," Bathala answered.
"Eternal annihilation, indeed," Aring Sinukuan added.
The council concluded, yet before Bathala could leave, Aman Sinaya spoke:
"Bathala... if Mayari dies for the fourth time, leading to her eternal destruction, I assure you there will be war among the gods!"
Bathala held her shoulder, halting her departure:
"Do you think... I would let my own child die, Sinaya?" Sinaya smiled wryly:
"Did you not tell me the same before? Before she fell into death... Bathala? Perhaps you forget, Mayari is also my child. Through me she was born a complete goddess, and without me, she would never have the chance to live again, for she is the child of a mortal—"
"Sinaya!" Bathala interrupted sharply. The biraddali bowed in fear at his voice.
"Mahalia!" Sinaya called to one of her biraddali[3].
"Our Sinaya..." it replied.
"Let us go to the seas!"
"Follow, noble Sinaya."
"Our Bathala!" Idianale called, breathless.
"What is it, goddess Idianale? You seem exhausted," Bathala said. She took a deep breath:
"Our Bathala, a mortal requests from your Well of Wishes. And their faith is strong! Moreover..." Bathala looked at her as Idianale whispered something into his ear before departing toward the Well of Wishes.
"AMEN." Across the clearing, the young woman clapped twice, signaling the end of her prayer. She slowly opened her eyes, rose, and faced her best friend, who was frowning beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat, eyebrows raised. The faint mist of dawn clung to the hills, and the scent of damp earth and flowering sampaguita hung in the air.
"What, girl? Is this really how unfortunate you are, kneeling even at Bathala's altar? Heavens, Selena! I thought you liked climbing the hills; turns out you're up to something like this!" The young woman let out a faint laugh, her bitter smile brightening the dusty morning path that wound through wild ferns and bamboo. Minerva's impatient frown softened as the wind rustled through the tall grass.
Selena sighed before answering, "Minerva, you know our plight with Niknik. Papa just passed, and none of our relatives cared to continue supporting us." Minerva walked silently beside her, stepping carefully over stones and roots along the narrow trail, the morning mist curling around their ankles like gentle smoke.
"I know!" Minerva stepped in front of her, gripping both her shoulders. "Listen carefully, Selena. Since you're desperate to survive with your little brother..." She leaned close and whispered:
"Why don't you try offering yourself to the deity of Goodness, Idianale... maybe—Ouch!" Selena glared and swatted her hand.
"Girl, I'm praying for coins, not to die!" Selena replied, sarcasm sharp in her voice, while the sun began to peek over distant mountains, casting gold over the nipa rooftops of the scattered village below.
"Ha! Then you should have prayed at Anitun Tabu's altar; she'd have let coins rain upon you, since she's the goddess of Rain," Minerva teased.
"But truly... girl, do you still believe in the Anito and Diwata?" Minerva asked. Selena studied her before speaking.
"Girl, do you think I would pray every dawn to Bathala if I didn't believe?"
Minerva glanced at the rustling bamboo and the chorus of early birds, the valley below veiled in fog, the river glinting faintly like silver.
"Wait, Selena. Don't you have the ability to read the deepest wishes of people's hearts?" Selena nodded.
Twelve years ago...
"Get away from me! Away!" Young Minerva struggled against Young Selena, who stood uncertain among the nipa huts clustered on the hillside, unsure how to act. Minerva nearly tumbled into the small cave carved into the hill after being shoved by her companions, but Selena peeked from behind a large rock and ran to grasp her hand as the children scattered.
"You're a witch! Stay away!" Minerva's wish entered Selena's mind, and she realized...
"You just want a friend... so why do you follow them?!" Young Minerva froze, shocked, staring into her eyes as she said:
"Stop lying, it is wrong. If you truly want a friend..." She turned and walked on across the dusty, leaf-strewn path.
The next day, after lessons at the bamboo-and-nipa schoolhouse, the children ambushed Selena outside the courtyard. A girl shoved her, causing her to fall onto the uneven earth. "Tss. So it's you!" she shouted, tossing a small stone that grazed Selena's forehead. Minerva watched from the shade of a mango tree, its branches heavy with fruit, eyes meeting hers briefly before quickly looking away. Clutching her chest, she approached the bullies:
"Hey! What are you scheming now?"
"M-Minerva...!" the children exclaimed.
"You know this is wrong. You could be punished by the gobernadorcillo for bullying!" She glanced at Selena, who was startled by the dust and sun.
"Since you are minors, you might be sent to the orphanage—or worse!" Minerva added. The children froze; they did not know she came from a family of lawyers and dreamed of becoming one herself.
Minerva approached Selena, who bowed lightly. "Forgive me..."
She looked up, smiling faintly.
After tending the scratch on her forehead with a cloth dampened in river water, Minerva asked gently, "I'm Minerva. What is your name?"
Selena bowed once more before replying, "S-Selena."
"Beautiful. Selena," she said, taking her hand.
"We know each other now! From this day, we're friends, Selena." She nodded and smiled, unaware that this girl would one day become her...
—Best friend.
***
Early Friday, May 8, 1890
Selena awoke at dawn. The first rays of the tropical sun filtered through the thin nipa blinds, casting warm gold upon the rough-hewn wooden floor of their small bahay kubo. Her younger brother, Nikolas—affectionately called Niknik—was to attend the escuela at six, and she needed to be at the clinic an hour before its doors opened at nine. It was barely five in the morning.
Stretching, she glanced about the modest home. Since their father's recent passing, the two-room dwelling bore an air of quiet emptiness. Its walls, once painted white, now revealed stains of age and long wear; the bamboo floors creaked as though mourning each step.
Gently, Selena roused Niknik from his hammock. The twelve-year-old, still in his crisp, albeit slightly worn, camisa de chino, resisted stirring. Selena tickled him lightly, part irritation, part amusement.
"Nikoooooo," she called softly. He turned, letting out a groggy sigh.
"Nikolas!" she pressed, and he sat up, rubbing his eyes, realizing she meant business.
"Ate—" he began, but she waved him toward the door. Their home was simple: the bedrooms to the left, a small bathroom partitioned by bamboo screens on the right, and the kitchen at the back, where the clay stove awaited. Dressing and washing were morning rituals, performed carefully in the cramped space.
"Your allowance—" Selena began.
"Cien? Ate, are you spoiling me?" Niknik shrugged, adjusting his straw hat that would shield him from the early sun.
"Do not interrupt! That is for two days... If you can handle three, so be it," she said. His face softened at her tone, and a faint smile crossed her lips.
"Be careful on the way home. Food awaits you on the table. Go straight to your escuela. If I am late, begin eating first," she said, smoothing his hair as he scampered off barefoot over the bamboo floor.
Selena, nineteen, a colegio graduate in a time when few women were afforded such education, struggled to secure gainful employment. Her good fortune lay in the Manansala family, whose kindness and social standing allowed her to serve as assistant to Dr. Mateo, Minerva's elder brother. Her long black hair, fair skin, and poised figure set her apart in town, though she dressed modestly in a long, somber saya and blouse, appropriate for a woman of her standing.
Standing before the modest clinic—a single-story bahay na bato with shuttered windows and a tiled roof—Selena hesitated. Though well-versed in remedies and patient care, she lacked the formal license required of apothecaries and mental healers, her skill honed entirely through observation of Dr. Mateo, whose reputation as a healer extended through the town and nearby barrios.
Dr. Mateo arrived, his horse-drawn calesa rattling along the cobbled street.
"Ms. Belleza, are we attending to an emergency?" he inquired, dismounting gracefully. Selena bowed slightly, nerves fluttering.
"No, no! Just... the usual," she replied, smoothing her skirt. Mateo, recalling Minerva's description of her quiet demeanor, smiled faintly and led her inside.
"Good morning, Dr.! You must be Selena," greeted the apothecary, Erica, whose small counter contained jars of herbs, tonics, and imported powders from Tsina. Selena returned a polite smile.
"Yes, I am Selena," she confirmed.
"Dr. Mateo! We have arrived early," said Raphael, a young male nurse in a simple camisa and trousers, accompanied by Erin, a stern-faced nurse whose coiled hair was tucked neatly beneath a kerchief. Mateo's gaze prompted Raphael to cover his mouth in embarrassment, causing Selena to smile.
"Selena Belleza... is that your name?" Mateo asked.
"Yes, sir," she murmured, cheeks warming.
"Do not take offense; it is simply a beautiful name, far more grand than my own," he said warmly.
"I heard from Minerva. I offer my deepest condolences for your father. And do not be shy; consider yourself at ease. You may call me Mateo—"
A patient interrupted, rushing through the wooden door. Selena stumbled slightly into the woman and caught a glimpse of her deepest wish: to reunite with her late husband.
"Dr.!" the woman sobbed, collapsing to her knees. Selena and Raphael assisted her to a chair.
"Calm yourself first, ma'am. Raphael, bring water," Mateo instructed. Selena whispered softly to him, and he immediately understood.
"My husband... I miss him... they do not understand!" the widow cried. Selena's voice, gentle but firm, sought to console.
"You are not alone. My mother died when I was young, and soon my father. Yet he endured, for he would not trouble her further with grief. Hold on," she said, lifting the woman's spirits. Mateo observed, impressed by her empathy.
"How fares he now?" asked the widow, eyes pleading.
"Papa is at peace," Selena replied.
"I did not know you had a gift for understanding the mind of others," Mateo remarked.
"What do you mean?"
"To guide another as a mental healer, one must possess empathy; one must feel the struggles of others." Selena offered only a faint, bittersweet smile. Erin observed quietly.
Selena soon became indispensable to the clinic: greeting patients, aiding treatments, and noting their deepest wishes on scraps of paper, which she placed on Dr. Mateo's desk for his attention.
As the sun sank behind nipa rooftops, the clinic closed at five, though the pharmacy remained until eight. Mateo rose, and Selena tidied the space. Erica, Raphael, and Erin greeted them as they departed.
"Dr. Mateo, Selena brings us fortune!" Erica teased. Both Mateo and Selena smiled faintly.
"Yes! Apart from the first patient, all have been manageable. Good fortune so far," Raphael said.
"Admit it, Selena! You have superpowers, yes?"
"H-Huh?" she stammered.
"Then we shall dine together. The day ends early today. Erica, close the clinic," Mateo instructed.
"Truly, Dr.? Excellent!" Erica and Raphael answered.
Selena prepared to leave, but Erica linked her arm playfully:
"What are you waiting for? Dr. will treat us and sends us home early, we shall take advantage!" Selena smiled softly.
After supper, around eight, her thoughts drifted to Niknik.
"Dr., Raphael and I will leave first. Blessings upon you, Dr., and you, Selena," Erica said.
"I will accompany them—" Selena began, but Erica hurried her along.
"We have errands! Please take care if Selena for us Dr.!"
Mateo asked where she lived. She indicated the nearby calesa stop.
"Only the road? No escort?" he teased. Selena laughed softly.
"It is sufficient. I shall manage alone," she said.
"Very well, then. I shall wait until you board." She smiled, and he did so. As the calesa departed, Mateo watched her hand, smiling faintly.
Walking home, Selena passed through a narrow alley when an arrow struck her from behind. She fell to her knees, vision dimming, yet hearing still sharp.
"Are you certain the poison on this arrow is potent enough?"
Her fingers twitched faintly before darkness claimed her.
"Yes, Our Bathala."
Selena's world went black. The alley, the rickety calesas, even the faint evening breeze—all vanished into an endless void. Yet even as darkness claimed her vision, a voice resonated within her mind, clear and unwavering, like the call of something divine.
"Do not fear, child."
The voice was soft, yet commanding, suffused with warmth and authority. Selena felt herself lifted, as if borne on invisible hands. Pain pulsed through her body, but the dread that had gripped her heart began to ebb. Slowly, her senses returned—not to the alley or the mortal world, but to a space between realms, ethereal and luminous.
She opened her eyes to a vast, glowing expanse. Above, the sky shimmered like molten gold at twilight, and in the distance floated a palace amidst clouds—radiant and serene—the Kalwahatian, the divine kingdom she had only glimpsed in whispered legends and old folk tales.
A figure approached, cloaked in radiant light. It was Idianale, goddess of Good Harvest and Benevolence, her presence both awe-inspiring and gentle, commanding Selena to tremble in reverent wonder.
"Selena," the goddess spoke, her voice like wind rustling through ripe rice fields, "you have been chosen. The arrow that struck you was not meant to slay, but to summon. You stand at the threshold of mortal and divine."
Selena tried to speak, but her lips refused. Instead, a vision formed in her mind—the Kalwahatian, the gods convening in the celestial hall. Bathala sat upon the highest throne, Aman Sinaya ruling the vast oceans, Amihan commanding the winds, and Mangechay, the god of Health, at the center, as though watching over her even from afar.
"You were brought here because the fate of the Moon Goddess, Mayari, now depends on you," Idianale continued. "The balance of mortal and divine realms is imperiled. Should she not be found before the Kalamigan ng Buwan, chaos shall spill into the mortal world. And you, child, will be the guide between realms."
Selena's mind swirled. Memories of her day—the care she had given at the clinic, comforting the widow, the quiet kindness of Dr. Mateo—all converged with this revelation. Somehow, her empathy, her ability to sense the deepest wishes of mortals, was now part of a divine calling.
"But why me?" she thought, her silent voice echoing in this luminous realm.
"Because your heart listens," Idianale answered, as if reading her very thoughts. "Your compassion bridges what others cannot perceive. Through you, the gods may act in the mortal world. You shall not be alone, Selena. Angels of the biraddali will aid you, and the spirits of the Anito will watch over you. Yet you must be brave—braver than ever before."
Selena felt herself rise, a sudden strength coursing through her veins. The poison that had almost claimed her now seemed distant, a faint shadow, as though her mortal frailty had been replaced with divine purpose.
"Remember," Idianale said, extending a hand that glimmered with the warmth of the harvest sun, "the mortal world is fragile, yet your resolve can shield it. You shall awaken soon, Selena. Go, and let your heart guide you to Mayari."
The light intensified, enveloping her in a golden embrace. For a fleeting moment, she felt as though she were falling, yet safe—supported by the very cosmos. Then the alley returned—the damp cobblestones beneath her knees, the faint scent of rain and earth—but she had changed. Her senses were keener, her heart steadier, and in her mind, the echo of Idianale's voice lingered, whispering courage and purpose.
Selena gasped and opened her eyes fully. The arrow had vanished, leaving only a faint mark on her back. She rose slowly, feeling the weight of what she had experienced, the quiet hum of the divine still resonating within her chest.
Far above, in the heavens, the gods watched. The mortal girl chosen by Idianale had awakened. The quest for Mayari, the Moon Goddess, had begun.
Selena knew, with unshakable certainty, that her life—and the mortal world—would never be the same.
[1] male deity
[2] goddess
[3] angel