Disclaimer: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.
In addition to turning gray, the sky over Manila had taken on a dramatic, damaged purple hue. The city was in a panic, rain-soaked crawl, and all commercial flights were halted due to the "Super Typhoon" warning.
With white knuckles, Zenrius Tan held onto the steering wheel of his SUV, which was matte black SUV. He had just returned from a confidential Project Phoenix meeting, and the excitement of the transaction was giving way to a profound, bone-weary annoyance. Even though the wipers were running at full speed, it felt like he was driving through a waterfall because of how thick the rain sheets were.
"Inefficient," Zen muttered, his voice a gravelly echo of his father's. "The drainage system in this sector is a joke."
His heart felt like a sealed vault, even though he was twenty years old and at the height of his intellectual and physical prowess. He was the "Prince of the Sky," the billionaire pilot who could seduce any lady with a single look, according to the world. However, the women he encountered were merely background noise to Zenrius. They saw a luxury jet, a penthouse, and a surname that implied endless credit; they smelled of desperation and costly perfume.
He didn't want a socialite. He didn't want an heiress. He wanted something he couldn't even name—something real.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning illuminated the road, followed by a crack of thunder so loud it vibrated in his chest. A fallen branch blocked the main artery toward BGC.
"Great," hissed Zen. He turned the wheel and turned sharply into Legaspi Village's tiny, well-known streets. He needed somewhere to stay while the surge was at its worst.
He stopped next to a dark, covered alley. He saw it as he got out of the car and covered his head with his leather jacket. Nestled between two ancient buildings is a door with a plum hue. It appeared oddly unaffected by the storm, a haven of darkness amidst the mayhem.
A low, melodious sound that appeared to cut through the thunder of the rain was produced by the chiming of the bell over the door. As Zenrius entered, the smell of ancient incense and sampaguita hit him like a tangible memory.
"The air is heavy tonight," a raspy, calm voice said from the corner. "It carries the scent of a Dragon who is tired of flying in circles."
Zenrius stopped. His keen eyes narrowed when they fell onto an old woman seated at a mahogany table, and he adjusted his wet hoodie. Her skin was parchment-like, and she had an elderly appearance, but her cloudy, milky eyes seemed to see right through his "expensive aura" and into the restless spirit beneath.
"I'm just waiting for the rain to stop," Zen said, his voice cold. "I don't need a reading."
"You don't need a reading, Zenrius Tan," Aling Rosa chuckled, a sound like dry leaves rustling. "But you need a destination. You are your father's son. You have the same scowl, the same pride, and the same fear of being grounded."
Zen's heart skipped a beat. "How do you know my name?"
"I knew your mother when she was just a girl with a calculator and a broken heart," Aling Rosa remarked, pointing to the seat across from her. "I told her the Tower would fall. And I told your father he would find his star in the rain. Sit. The universe doesn't bring you to this door for a 'shortcut' through traffic."
Zenrius sat. He didn't know why, but the "grumpy" armor he wore so well felt heavy and useless in this room.
This time, Aling Rosa did not employ the conventional tarot cards. She extracted three items from a velvet pouch: a single dried rose petal, a clear quartz crystal, and a tiny, rusted iron anchor.
She said, "You are a pilot," as she hovered her fingers over the objects. "You love the altitude because up there, no one can touch you. You've closed your heart to the women of your world because you see the price tag they've put on your soul."
Zenrius remained silent, his jaw tight. It was the truth he never admitted to anyone, not even to Elyzius.
"But look here," she said, indicating the crystal of quartz. "The storm is brewing. Not the one outside, but the one that will make you soft. Soon, you will meet someone who doesn't care about the Tan name. She won't see the billionaire; she will see the boy who hides his kindness behind a scowl."
"I don't plan on being 'soft,' Aling Rosa," Zen said, a flicker of his father's arrogance returning.
"The harder the stone, the easier it cracks," she retorted. "She will be your audit. She will look at your life's ledger and find the one thing you've been hiding: your need to be seen for who you are, not what you own. She will be the one to ground the Dragon. And when she does, you will finally understand why your father stopped looking for an escape and started building a home."
She shoved the iron anchor in his direction. "She is coming, Zenrius. Not in a ballroom, but in a place where your money is useless. Be ready. The rain is stopping, but your journey is just beginning."
Zenrius walked back to his SUV, the rain having slowed to a rhythmic drizzle. He felt strange—as if the physical weight of the storm had been replaced by a mental one.
He glanced at his image in the rearview mirror as he drove through Makati's now-quiet streets. He saw the man who was supposed to have it all, the "expensive" features, the attractive face that appeared on business magazine covers.
Aling Rosa had stated that she would not see the billionaire. The boy will be seen by her.
He considered the ladies he knew—the ones who "accidentally" touched his arm at parties, the ones whose parents were already attempting to use a marriage contract to mediate a merger, and the ones who laughed too loudly at his jokes. A sensation of deep boredom washed over him.
"I don't need anyone," he muttered to the empty car. "I have the business. I have the sky."
He couldn't help but marvel, though, when he turned into the BGC penthouse and saw the lights of his family's property, where a pilot and an auditor had defied the odds. Who fails to notice the "Tan" inheritance in him? Who might persuade the "Prince of the Sky" to remain on Earth?
Ignoring the city lights that typically made him feel like a monarch, he ascended to his private floor. The sound of Aling Rosa's voice reverberated through the room as he perched on the edge of his bed.
For the first time in his twenty years, Zenrius Tan wasn't looking at a flight map or a P&L statement. He was looking at the door, wondering when the woman who would "ground" him would finally walk through it.
He closed his eyes, the "grumpy" scowl softening just for a moment in the dark.
The audit was coming. And for the first time, Zenrius wasn't sure if he was ready to pass.