Chapter 16
The deep personal conversation from earlier slowly faded, as the two settled into a more relaxed rhythm. Lunch became simple again, nothing heavy, just shared space and quiet understanding.
Junior cracked a small joke about how hospital food somehow always tasted the same no matter what day it was, and for a brief moment, Nille let out a soft laugh. It wasn't loud, but it was real.
"Guess you're getting used to it now," Junior added with a grin.
"Not really," Nille replied, shaking his head slightly. "I just… don't complain anymore."
"That's worse," Junior chuckled. "You're becoming one of us."
The light exchange lingered, easing the weight that had been pressing on Nille's chest. For a while, things felt normal, just two people sharing a meal, nothing more.
After they finished, Junior stood up and began clearing the table without much thought. Nille followed, quietly helping gather the trays and wiping down the surface. Their movements were simple, unspoken, but in sync.
A few minutes passed like that.
Then Junior straightened up, stretching his arms slightly.
"Alright," he said, glancing at the time. "Break's over. I've got to get back to work."
He looked at Nille, his tone returning to something more casual, but still carrying a bit of that earlier sincerity.
"You can head back to your grandma," he added. "Or… do whatever it is you need to do."
There was no pressure in his voice, no questions, no expectations.
Just trust.
Junior gave a small nod, then turned and started walking off, already shifting back into his routine.
"Don't get into trouble," he called out lightly, without looking back.
Nille stood there for a moment, watching him leave.
Then, quietly,
He made his choice.
Nille made his way toward the back of the hospital, this time, to the right side.
The path felt unfamiliar.
He had never really explored this area before. His steps slowed slightly as he recognized something, the same spot where he had first stepped onto the hospital grounds, near the edge where the pavement gave way to untamed land.
There, parked quietly under the shade, was a car.
Inside, the maid rested, leaning against the seat, her posture still and undisturbed. It looked like she had taken a break, away from the noise of the hospital. Nille didn't linger. He simply passed by, careful not to make a sound.
Beyond that point, the environment began to change.
The clean, structured space of the hospital faded behind him, replaced by a dense vacant lot, the same place where he had once found the beads. The memory surfaced briefly, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on what Junior had mentioned.
A garden.
At first, Nille expected something organized, rows of plants, maybe a small cultivated patch. But as he moved deeper, what he found was different.
It wasn't a garden in the usual sense.
It was a clump of wild vegetation, thick and overgrown, spreading unevenly toward the vacant lot. Various plants tangled together, broad leaves overlapping thinner stems, vines creeping across the ground, and small patches of herbs hidden beneath the larger growth.
It looked chaotic.
But not abandoned.
Nille crouched slightly, observing more closely.
The plants, despite their wild appearance, showed subtle signs of care. Some areas had been trimmed just enough to prevent them from choking each other. Certain paths between the growth were faintly cleared, allowing access without disturbing the whole patch.
Someone had been maintaining this.
Mang Jun.
This wasn't a decorative garden, it was functional.
A quiet, practical space where useful plants were allowed to grow naturally, controlled just enough to be sustainable. Medicinal herbs, wild greens, and other raw materials likely thrived here, hidden within what most people would dismiss as simple overgrowth.
Nille's eyes sharpened.
To others, this place might look messy, even neglected.
But to him
It was opportunity.
A place filled with resources.
Nille stepped carefully into the overgrown patch, letting his eyes scan the wild greenery. The sun filtered through the dense leaves, casting moving shadows across the tangled vegetation. Each plant looked ordinary at first glance, but the scarf hummed faintly as he approached.
The moment he neared a clump of herbs, the scarf reacted. Tiny threads of light traced from the fabric toward the plants, wrapping around them like gentle tendrils. Nille watched, amazed, as they lifted off the ground, floating in midair, and hovered briefly before sinking into the scarf itself.
"Beads fully consumed… Level 2 confirmed," the scarf murmured again, as if reassuring him.
Excited but cautious, Nille focused on one plant at a time, testing the scarf's abilities. The first attempt was clumsy: he tried to craft a simple healing potion, following the faint intuition from the scarf's guidance. The mixture bubbled oddly, turning a deep, muddy brown. He sniffed it carefully and quickly realized it would do more harm than good.
"I shall pause crafting the scalpel blades, based on the priority you wish to perform," the scarf noted, its voice calm. For now, medicine came first.
The potion had been crafted in powdered form, ready to be refined or mixed into liquid when needed. Nille carefully measured a small amount, testing its consistency and aroma.
"Not quite right," he muttered, wiping his hands.
He tried again, this time adjusting the ratios in his mind, imagining the scarf drawing out only the beneficial essence. The liquid shimmered faintly, a soft green glow hinting that the process was working. He poured a small amount onto a scratch on his arm—just enough to test—and felt the sting fade almost immediately. Success.
Encouraged, Nille moved through the patch systematically, letting the scarf identify, lift, and "absorb" each herb as he approached. Because the hospital back area was nearly empty, he could work without interruption, quietly collecting a variety of plants. Some were familiar—small leaves and stems he recognized as common herbal remedies. Others were strange, tangled vines and thick roots that he had no idea about. The scarf handled them all, cataloging and storing them internally as potential crafting materials.
Trial and error became his rhythm. Some potions turned out bitter or ineffective; others worked better than expected. Each failure taught him something about the properties of the plants and the limits of his new abilities. Slowly, he began to feel a pattern emerge: which herbs strengthened the body, which soothed pain, which could purify water or neutralize minor toxins.
By the time he paused, the scarf had absorbed nearly everything within reach. Nille stepped back and surveyed the clump of wild vegetation, once chaotic and untamed, now partially cleared, harvested in a controlled, careful way.
A sense of accomplishment settled in.
He had begun to bend this strange power to his will, turning raw nature into something useful. And if Granny Amparo, or anyone else, ever needed help, he now had the means to try.
For the first time, the Enclave and the real world felt connected: one feeding the other, each reinforcing his ability to survive, protect, and adapt.
Nille crouched in the middle of the small clearing, the soft hum of the scarf around him. He selected a simple green potion, a basic restorative he had crafted after several failed attempts. The liquid shimmered faintly, catching the sunlight that filtered through the leaves.
He hesitated for only a moment, then drank a small sip. The taste was bitter, earthy, and unfamiliar, but he focused on the effect rather than the flavor.
Almost instantly, he felt it. A warmth spread from his stomach through his limbs, subtle at first, then stronger, soothing the ache that had lingered from his morning sparring. His muscles loosened, his breathing slowed, and the fatigue pressing down on him seemed to lift, replaced by a quiet, steady energy.
"Yes…" he murmured, eyes widening. The potion worked. He felt revitalized, not instantly superhuman, but enough to keep going, enough to continue training without collapsing.
Encouraged, Nille moved on to more experiments, sipping carefully from small amounts and noting the difference each potion made. He began to develop a rhythm: observe the plant, let the scarf extract its essence, craft, test cautiously, and record the effect in his mind. Each successful potion built confidence; each failure taught restraint.
After some time, he realized he couldn't rely on chaos anymore. He needed order if he wanted to use these abilities effectively. The scarf, still humming faintly around him, seemed to respond as if sensing his intent.
Nille began setting up a storage system. Using small crates, boxes, and a few shelves he found near the vacant lot, he designated spaces for different types of materials: leaves here, roots there, partially processed herbs in another, and finished potions in a separate section. As he moved items, the scarf quietly floated them into their proper spots, aligning them carefully as if it understood the importance of organization.
By the time he stepped back, the area felt functional, less like a chaotic patch of wild plants and more like a controlled workshop, ready to support whatever experiments or needs he had next.
He took a deep breath, feeling the balance of his energy restored and his tools prepared. For the first time, the process of crafting, testing, and storing felt deliberate and grounded. And with that foundation in place, Nille could finally return to training, not just relying on instinct, but on preparation, knowledge, and the quiet support of the scarf and the people around him.
The scarf reacted again, its voice calm but eager:
"I will continue crafting the aluminum scalpel-size blades and the rest will be turned into needles, and store them. as Priority assigned: defensive and utility tools ready for immediate use."
Nille nodded, satisfied. While he focused on medicine and potions for now, the knowledge that the scarf was quietly handling tools and equipment in the background allowed him to fully dedicate himself to mastering the craft and his body, step by step, experiment by experiment.
Nille stepped lightly across the quiet hospital hallway, the weight of his newfound energy easing each step. He paused outside Granny Amparo's room, peering in. To his relief, she was slightly conscious, her eyes half-open, gazing out the window at the sunlight streaming over the grounds. A faint smile played on her lips, and her frail hand rested on the blanket covering her.
"LOLA…" Nille called softly, his voice a mixture of excitement and tenderness.
Her eyes flickered toward him immediately, widening just enough to focus, and then she smiled fully, recognition lighting her face.
"Apo…" she whispered, her voice weak but warm. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Nana. It's me," Nille said, stepping closer and gently taking her hand. "I've been outside for a little while… just walking, training… and making sure I'm ready for whatever comes next."
Amparo's eyes twinkled faintly, as if she could feel the determination radiating from him. "Training… again? You never stop, do you?" she said with a soft chuckle, her frail body swaying slightly in the bed.
Amparo let out a soft breath, her fingers lightly tracing the back of Nille's hand. For a moment, it seemed like she might drift off again, but instead, her eyes sharpened, as if something old and buried had quietly risen to the surface.
"Apo…" she murmured, her voice thinner now, but carrying a strange weight. "You talk about protecting me… making remedies…" She gave a faint, knowing smile. "You sound… just like I did."
Nille blinked. "You?"
Amparo let out a quiet, almost amused breath. "Hmm… I suppose I never told you this one. I always chose the lighter stories for you, didn't I?" Her gaze shifted toward the window, where the light barely filtered through. "But this one… this one is not for children."
Nille didn't interrupt. He simply held her hand a little tighter.
"There was a time," she continued, "when I was not just your Lola who cooked kamote and scolded you for staying out too late." A faint chuckle escaped her. "I hunted things… things that people pretend don't exist."
Nille's smile slowly faded, not in fear, but in focus.
Amparo turned her head slightly toward him. "They weren't animals, apo. They were… beings. Dark ones. Some could speak. Some could think. And some…" Her fingers curled faintly. "…could use powers that twisted the world around them."
Nille's voice dropped. "Like… magic?"
Amparo gave a slow nod. "Yes. Magic. But not the kind in stories. This one takes… and takes… until nothing is left."
She paused, her breathing uneven, but she pressed on.
"There was one… a creature we called a Mahomanay." Her eyes dimmed slightly with memory. "Male. Tall. Beautiful in a way that didn't feel right. Skin too fair… like it had never seen the sun. Long black hair… and ears that curved to a point."
Nille leaned in slightly, listening carefully.
"They lure women," Amparo continued softly. "Not by force at first. They charm them… make them feel chosen. Then they take them, into places that are not part of our world."
Her grip on his hand tightened just a little.
"One night… a friend of mine disappeared." Her voice cracked faintly. "She wasn't just a friend… she was like a sister. I knew what had taken her."
Nille swallowed. "And you went after it…"
"I did." Amparo's lips pressed into a thin line. "Alone. Foolish… but I couldn't let her die."
She closed her eyes briefly, as if reliving it.
"I found them in a place that shouldn't exist. The air felt… wrong. Like breathing inside a nightmare." Her voice lowered. "The Mahomanay was preparing something… a ritual. My friend…" She exhaled shakily. "…she was going to be sacrificed."
Nille's hand trembled slightly, but he didn't pull away.
"I didn't think," Amparo whispered. "I attacked."
A faint, tired smile appeared. "It was… violent. More than anything I had faced before. That creature, he wasn't just strong. He bent things. Shadows moved for him. The ground itself resisted me."
She paused, catching her breath.
"I was wounded… badly. My side was torn open." Her fingers instinctively moved toward her ribs, as if remembering the pain. "But I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not when she was right there."
Nille's voice was barely above a whisper. "You… killed it?"
Amparo slowly nodded.
"I did. Just before the ritual was complete." Her eyes softened. "I saved her… but I nearly died there myself."
There was silence for a moment.
Then Nille spoke carefully. "The scarf…?"
Amparo gave a faint, knowing smile.
"Yes… that scarf."
Her eyes drifted downward, as if she could still see it wrapped around her.
"It belonged to the Mahomanay. I took it… not because I wanted it, but because I had no choice." She inhaled slowly. "I was bleeding too much. I wrapped it around my wound…"
Her fingers gently squeezed his.
"And then… it moved."
Nille's eyes widened slightly.
"It tightened on its own," she continued. "Like fingers… like it understood what I needed. It pulled my flesh together… stitched it. Not perfectly… but enough." She gave a soft, almost disbelieving laugh. "It saved my life."
Nille glanced down unconsciously, thinking of the scarf he now carried.
"I kept it after that," Amparo said. "Wore it under my clothes. Always. It helped me… again and again." Her voice softened. "But over time… its strength faded. The stitching became weaker… slower."
She turned her gaze back to him.
"When my son, your grandfather, turned fifteen… I waited." Her expression held a quiet sadness. "I thought maybe… he would inherit what I had. The sight. The sensitivity. The ability to fight."
Nille stayed silent.
"But it never came," she whispered. "He was… just human. And I was grateful for that, even if it meant I had to keep going alone."
Her breathing grew heavier, but she continued, determined.
"I still hunted, apo. During the day, I was a mother. At night… I became something else." A faint smile touched her lips. "I would wait until he slept… or when he was at school. Then I would go."
Nille's grip tightened.
"But being a mother…" she said softly, "…it changes you. You start choosing which battles are worth the risk. You start thinking… 'What if I don't come back?'"
Her voice weakened.
"So I slowed down. Little by little." She exhaled. "And I wasn't alone anymore. Others began to appear… people like me, but different."
Nille leaned closer. "Like… what?"
"They were called many things," Amparo replied. "Long ago… Babaylan. Healers. Spiritual guides. Warriors in their own way." Her eyes flickered with pride. "In recent times… people forgot. Now they call us Albularyo… or worst just mang hihilot."
A faint, tired smile formed.
"They still fight… in quieter ways."
Nille looked at her, realization slowly forming. "Nana… you were"
She gently squeezed his hand again, stopping him.
"Shh…" she murmured. "Labels don't matter."
Her gaze softened deeply as she looked at him.
"But you, apo…" Her voice dropped to a fragile whisper. "You're different. I can feel it. The way you speak… the way you see things…"
Her eyes slowly began to close.
"And that scarf…" she added faintly, "…it never responded to anyone else the way it did to me…"
A small pause.
"…until you."
Nille's chest tightened.
Lola"
But Amparo's grip loosened slightly as her strength faded.
"Don't carry everything alone…" she whispered, her voice barely there now. "Even warriors… need rest…"
Her breathing steadied, soft and slow.
She had fallen asleep again.
Nille remained there, unmoving, her words echoing in his mind, the Mahomanay… the battles… the scarf in his possession now carrying a history far heavier than he ever imagined.
And for the first time, the things he was learning… no longer felt like coincidence.
They felt like inheritance.
Nille shook his head firmly. "No, Nana. I'm careful now. I'm learning to balance things. I tested some of the potions… even drank a small one myself. It works."
"You drank… a potion?" Amparo asked, raising a weak eyebrow, but a small smile crept onto her face again.
"Yes," Nille admitted, a hint of pride in his voice. "It made me feel… refreshed, Nana. Strong enough to continue training without hurting myself. And I promise, I'm being careful. I'm thinking about everything I do now… not just acting on instinct."
Amparo nodded slowly, her eyes misting just slightly. "My Apo… my little boy… growing strong, even when the world seems too heavy. I'm proud of you… even if I can't tell you enough."
Nille felt warmth rise in his chest. "Nana… I only want to make things right. For you… for us. I can't let anything happen to you, not again."
Amparo's fingers tightened slightly on his hand. "I know, my child. I feel it. But don't forget… you're still just a boy. Don't let the world take your heart or wear you out completely. You need to rest too, you know."
"I will, lola ," Nille said softly, smiling. "I'll rest… but only after I make sure you're safe. That's my promise."
She chuckled faintly, a soft, raspy sound that reminded him of quiet evenings long ago. "Apo… you are relentless. But that's why I love you. You carry too much, but you do it with your whole heart… just like you always have."
Nille leaned down slightly, resting his forehead gently against hers. "I learned from you, Nana. Everything I am, even my stubbornness… it comes from you."
Amparo's eyelids grew heavy as the sun's warmth seeped through the window, and her voice softened to almost a whisper. "Apo… my heart is calm… seeing you… it's enough… for now…"
Nille stayed by her side, holding her hand, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. "I'll be right here, Nana… always."
" she spoke in latin , blessing her Apo"
"Spiritus naturae te custodiat,
lux antiqua te ducat,
manus tuae protegant et sanent,
et anima tua in aequilibrio semper maneat."
Nille sat there in silence, his thoughts still echoing with everything she had said.
The Mahomanay… the scarf… the hidden life she lived.
It was too much, and yet somehow, it all fit.
His eyes drifted toward the corner of the room, where the old weapons rested—the ones she had given him long ago without much explanation. At the time, he thought they were just… tools. Old, worn, maybe sentimental.
Now, they felt different.
Heavy.
Important.
He was about to stand when
"Apo…"
Her voice was faint, almost like a thread barely holding on.
Nille turned instantly. "Lola ?"
Amparo's eyes were still closed, but she wasn't fully asleep. She was somewhere in between—conscious enough to speak, too tired to fully wake.
"You used them…" she murmured.
Nille froze.
"The weapons I gave you…" she continued softly. "The jungle bolo… the butterfly knife… and the twin knuckles…"
Her breathing hitched slightly.
Nille swallowed. ""Lola… I—"
"You don't have to hide it," she whispered. "I can feel it… the way they've awakened."
A quiet silence filled the room.
"They weren't ordinary," Amparo continued. "I should have told you… long ago. But I wanted you to have a normal life." A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "It seems… fate had other plans."
Nille slowly sat back down beside her.
"What are they… really?" he asked, his voice low.
Amparo took a slow, fragile breath.
"They were forged… from a fallen star."
Nille's eyes widened slightly.
"Not just any metal," she went on. "Something ancient… older than the stories we know. It fell long before I was born. The elders… the Tamawo old benevolent beings that ruled this land befre we came to exist , our ancestors called them as Encanto these ancient beings were the ones the Taught the first Babaylan to control and communicate with elemental spiritual energy or they called Anito… the Encanto race they were the ones that forge those fallen fragments,"
"as weapons to fight the rising numbers of Dalaketnons and Tamawo in the land"
" unlike their other weapons the taeng-bituin or the star weapons can neutralize and eliminate any Dalaketnons , Tamawo and their other malevolent variants effectively"
Her fingers twitched faintly, as if remembering the weight of those weapons.
"They said the metal wasn't dead. It listened. It remembered."
A faint silence followed… then her lips moved again, slower this time, as if pulling words from somewhere far deeper than memory.
"…many say…" she murmured, her voice fragile, "the weapons were possessed… by a dormant… or perhaps… reluctant Abyan…"
Nille's brows furrowed. "Abyan…?"
Amparo gave the slightest nod, though her eyes never opened.
"Not all spirits are evil, apo…" she whispered. "Some are bound… some are trapped… and some… choose to remain." A weak breath escaped her. "An Abyan… is one that lingers between… not fully of this world… not fully gone."
Nille listened carefully, his heart steady but heavy.
"They say…" she continued, "…when the fallen star was forged… something within it did not fade." Her fingers curled slightly. "A presence… quiet… watching… unwilling to act unless called."
He glanced again toward the weapons, a subtle tension rising in his chest.
"Reluctant…" he repeated.
"Yes…" Amparo whispered. "Not all power wants to be used."
A long pause.
Then her voice shifted—carrying a weight of history.
"As time passed…" she murmured, "mortal men… and women… changed."
Her breathing grew uneven.
"Greed came… slowly at first. Then all at once." Her lips trembled faintly. "Foreign people came… not as guests… but as conquerors. They brought new weapons… new beliefs… and took what they could not understand."
Nille's jaw tightened slightly.
"And then…" she whispered, "…war."
The word lingered in the air.
"It was not a war you'll read in books," she said. "Not one written clearly… but it happened." Her voice grew distant. "Between those who still walked with the unseen… and those who chose to dominate it."
Her grip tightened weakly.
"The Tamawo…" she said softly.
Nille leaned closer. "Tamawo…?"
"They were like guardians," Amparo explained faintly. "Not gods… not humans. Beings tied to the land… to forests… to rivers… to what the world once was."
Her breath hitched.
"They died, apo…" she whispered.
Nille felt something in his chest sink.
"Many of them…" she continued, "…fell not to blades… not to rituals…"
A pause.
"…but to black metal."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Ammunition," she said. "Forged with knowledge stolen… twisted… mixed with things that should have never been touched." Her voice weakened further. "Bullets that could pierce more than flesh… that could harm even those not bound to this world."
Nille's mind raced.
"The war changed everything," Amparo whispered. "The Tamawo grew fewer… the Babaylan were hunted… and those who survived… went into hiding."
Silence stretched between her words.
"The weapons you hold…" she continued faintly, "…were made before that fall. Before greed consumed everything."
Nille looked at his hands unconsciously.
"They were not made to conquer…" she said. "They were made to protect."
A faint tremor passed through her fingers.
"But when people changed…" she whispered, "…even sacred things… became tools of war."
Nille's voice was low. "that is why, they all vanish,"
Amparo's lips parted slightly.
"They… they chose to hide away from humans…" Amparo breathed softly, her voice fragile but steady with truth. "Because they saw what mortals became… beings with dual hearts. Capable of kindness… and cruelty."
Her fingers trembled faintly in Nille's grasp.
"Humans are easily swayed, apo… by greed… by hunger… by power." Her lips pressed together weakly. "The rise… the corruption… the bloodshed…"
A shallow breath escaped her.
"…that was the reason they all hid."
Nille remained still, listening as if every word carried something sacred.
Amparo's voice grew distant, as though she was no longer just remembering—but witnessing.
"That was when the law was made…" she whispered.
"A binding law… agreed upon by those who still remained."
Her breathing slowed, but she continued.
"A spell… not ordinary… but ancient and absolute. It was fueled by the power of the five greatest Cosmic and Elemental beings that once protected these islands…"
Her voice softened, almost reverent.
"The first… was Bakunawa… the great dragon of fire and lightning. A serpent so vast it could swallow the moon itself. Its presence ruled flame and storm… its movements shaping thunder, lightning, and the very rhythm of the skies."
"The second… Minokawa… the giant bird of the heavens, ruler of the wind. Its wings could summon tempests, and with a single descent, it could devour the sun or moon… bringing darkness upon the world."
"The third… Tambanokano…" she continued faintly. "A massive crab of the deep earth's waters… ruler of all fresh water and rain. Its claws shaped rivers, cleansed the land, and pulled the tides of lakes and streams across the world."
"The fourth… Arimaonga… a lion-like beast of immense power, ruler of soil and stone. Its roar could split mountains, its steps could shake the ground… and it once tried to consume the sun itself."
A pause.
"And the fifth…" her voice dropped to a whisper, "…Kurita. An ancient being of the sea. An octopus-like creature… feared by all who sail. It does not simply hunt—it rules all salt water. Older than Tambanokano… and far more ancient than the tides themselves."
Nille felt a chill run through him.
"These five…" Amparo murmured, "…lent their power to bound the law, as they were the actual manifestation of nature itself "
"A veil… a separation."
"From that moment on… the unseen world withdrew. The Tamawo… the spirits… the beings beyond human sight…"
Her fingers loosened slightly.
"…they all agreed… to never walk openly among humans again."
Silence filled the room.
"Only in shadows… only in whispers… only to those who can see…but many of their kind were corrupted by greed soon became evil and wanted to feed on the mortal "
"So this is where these weapons come into play… in the hands of those who have awakened their third eye."
Her expression softened, touched with sorrow.
"That is why they hesitate… why they remain silent… why they only answer… those they deem worthy."
Nille swallowed.
"Not strong…" she added faintly, "…but worthy."
A long pause followed.
Then, almost inaudible,
"Apo…"
Nille leaned in quickly. "I'm here."
"If they chose you…" she whispered, "…then it means… you are not like the others who came before…"
Her breathing slowed further, her strength fading with each passing second.
"Do not repeat their mistakes…" she said weakly. "Power… taken for selfish reasons… will always destroy its bearer…"
Her fingers loosened in his hand.
"And the Abyan…" she murmured one last time, "…will not save you… if you become what they once feared…"
Her voice faded into silence.
Only the quiet rhythm of her breathing remained.
Nille sat there, unmoving.
The room felt heavier now, not just with memory… but with history.
A hidden war.
A forgotten law.
A world that chose to disappear… rather than be consumed.
Slowly, his gaze drifted toward the corner,
to the bolo, the butterfly knife, and the twin knuckles.
They were no longer just weapons.
They were remnants of a time when the world was whole…
, and a warning of what happens when it breaks.
A war unseen.
Beings forgotten.
Weapons that carried not just power… but judgment.
Slowly, his gaze shifted once more to the corner.
Nille glanced unconsciously toward the scarf around his neck t hat holds the weapons again.
"The jungle bolo…" she whispered, "was meant for cutting through more than just flesh. It can sever… things that shouldn't exist in this world."
Her breathing grew shallow, but she continued.
"The butterfly knife… fast… precise. It reacts to intent. Not just movement… but will."
A small pause.
"And the twin knuckles…" her voice dropped even further, "…those were never meant for humans alone. They were made to strike beings that hide behind form… to make the unseen feel pain."
Nille's grip tightened slightly on the edge of the bed.
"They always return," Amparo added. "No matter where they are lost… dropped… or taken… they will find their way back to their owner."
Nille whispered, "So that's why…"
"Yes…" she murmured. "Losing them… is not something you need to fear."
Her head shifted slightly toward him, though her eyes remained closed.
"But do you remember… the writings?"
Nille stiffened.
"…the markings," she continued faintly. "On the handles… the base of the blade… the inside of the knuckles they were place to bind the Abyan living inside the metal …"
those were
Nille's mind flashed back.
The strange carvings.
Symbols he couldn't read… yet somehow felt familiar.
"I saw them," he said quietly. "But I didn't understand."
Amparo gave a weak, breath-like laugh.
"Of course you didn't… I didn't either. Not at first."
Her voice became softer, distant.
"They're not just decorations… they're bindings. Old language… older than what we speak now. The Babaylan believed…" she paused, gathering strength, "…that those writings limit the weapons."
Nille frowned slightly. "Limit…?"
"Yes…" she whispered. "So they don't consume the one who uses them."
A chill ran through him.
"The star they came from…" she continued, "…was not gentle. Power like that… it always asks for something in return."
Silence.
Then, barely audible,
"But you…"
Nille leaned closer. " lola ?"
"…you can hear them… can't you?" she murmured.
His breath caught.
Because he couldn't deny it anymore.
The way the weapons felt in his hands… the way they responded… the way they seemed almost alive—
"…Yes," he admitted quietly.
Amparo's lips curved into the faintest smile.
"I knew it…" she whispered. "Just like the scarf… they've chosen you."
Her breathing slowed again.
"But listen carefully, apo…" she added, her voice now barely more than air. "Power… that listens… can also whisper back."
Nille stayed completely still.
"Don't let it change you…" she said. "You're not just a wielder… you're still my apo."
Her grip on his hand weakened.
"And no matter what those weapons are… or what that scarf becomes…"
A long pause.
"…you must always choose who you are."
Her voice faded into silence.
This time, she didn't wake again.
Only the quiet rhythm of her breathing remained.
Nille sat there, unmoving.
The scarf.
The weapons.
The fallen star.
The writings that limit power.
And the most unsettling part,
They had chosen him.
Slowly, his gaze shifted once more toward the weapons in the corner.
For the first time…
He didn't see tools.
He saw something waiting.
Within moments, Amparo drifted back into a deep, peaceful sleep, a faint smile still lingering on her lips. Nille gently adjusted the blanket around her, careful not to disturb her rest. He let out a quiet sigh, a mixture of relief and resolve.