What The Fireleaves Danced

"It is said that the tamawo have an intense hatred for humanity and the other physical races. Why? We might not know. But that singular time that I managed to venture into their grand city of flying chariots, illuminated by witch-lights that emitted no heat, and a seemingly mechanical sun above it all, the words spoken there have driven me to conclude that the oft-whispered Sunder Wars may have something to do with it."

- Datu Orokan, 634 Seven Moons

Mayumi and Dakila leapt over a wide stream rushing down a cascade of rocks and smooth stones. The tamawo jumped simply, as if throwing one foot forward and then stepping onto another part of the ground. On the other hand, Mayumi needed a running head start to get to the other side. Angas leapt from rock to rock with that civet grace he'd always exhibited.

On the other side, Mayumi knelt down and rubbed Angas' neck. "Good job, boy."

Dakila waited for her to stand up, before turning around and then walking through the forest once again. The graceful tamawo wove through the intricate pattern of the forest in a dance, Mayumi was left in the dust, slapping her head against low-hanging branches and tripping over rocks too big to kick to the side.

Eventually they arrived at a small clearing, with a large, moss-covered boulder in the middle. The tamawo strode over to the rock and placed a hand on it as he closed his eyes. Mayumi did not know what to do in these things, and as such, she waited for Dakila to finish.

After a moment, the tamawo turned around and said, "You do not pray to the anito?" He looked directly at her, his inhuman indigo eyes blazing.

Mayumi shook her head. "I do pray."

Dakila nodded ever so slightly. "Then pray at this site," He turned to the boulder again and gestured at it with his hand. "Pulong sa'ga Kalag. That is the name of this place. It is a convergent point of the worlds of the dead and the living. It may have been an old tombstone for a powerful man of charisma."

"So this is to the ancestral anito? The ones who've walked the earth before us?" Mayumi walked up beside Dakila. Angas bowed as he perched on top of her head. Surely, the animal creature felt the importance of this place.

Dakila was silent, but ever so slightly, tipped his head in confirmation. Mayumi inhaled, and then exhaled, her nose flaring and her mouth in a downward arc. Are all tamawo like this? She pondered. Subtle and mysterious?

Mayumi turned to the rock. An ominous resonance called to her from the rock, echoing within her soul the cries and echoes of times gone by. Of times past. Of times dead. She approached the rock and laid a hand flat on one moss-covered face.

She muttered a silent prayer to the anito – the spirits of her ancestors. She knew, from the speeches of her anitowan and her mother, that the anito watched over them, like a cloud of witnesses, and they could relay information to the highest of the gods – the Great Weaver. She knew that they could ask favors from the gods of the Skyworld, haggling and asking as proxy for the gods' blessings and powers.

She knew this all, and revered the anito the most, for they themselves had supernatural power they could bestow upon the descendants that did not forget them.

Mayumi prayed to her mother and to all of her ancestors whom she did not know. She asked them to guide her safely through the pathways of Death, to a good rest, to an eternal slumber. To live with the rest of the anito in the Skyworld, that she could be given her due reward.

And then, a burst of remembrance and longing and nostalgia surged through her as she prayed for Datu Sariman, and his daughter Luning, and his beautiful wife, and for every single person in her barangay that had perished an untimely, unfair death to people who only wanted more for themselves.

Mayumi managed to hold back her tears. She was proud of the fact.

May they all rest peacefully, and may they all watch my journey. In the name of Apo Mangachay, oh Great Weaver, let the anito guide me and teach me and… and protect me! Long enough to… to exact vengeance on those that had wronged me.

Yet her prayer wavered.

After this, she opened her eyes, having finished her prayer. She took a step back and turned to Dakila, who stood watching her with uncanny, unblinking eyes. Unsettling. Are all tamawo like this?

Behind Dakila, fluttering in the shadow between the trees, specks of light, flitted about, seemingly watching her. As if the specks of light were pairs of eyes.

Are those…? It was only a fleeting moment; they quickly flickered back into darkness, and soon, a heavy feeling was lifted from Mayumi's c.h.e.s.t. She realized that she could feel someone watching her, but not just Dakila.

Mayumi inhaled, and said: "I am finished."

Dakila nodded. "And the anito have heard. Let us journey on."

* * *

And so they did.

Their trek lasted them a few more hours, and by the end of it, the sun began to end her glorious dance across the sky and flourish beneath the horizon, withdrawing her golden radiance, making way for the night's softer gleam. Or so she expected.

The night was awfully dark, and the moon showed none of its gleam. It was the night of the Eaten Moons. Yet, despite this, the stars twinkled brightly, painting soft starlight brushes across the sky, stringing together a loom of destiny, creating images like a spectacular light show.

"The Tala watch over us tonight," said the tamawo, weaving through more branches and foliage. "My spirits strum. There is a clearing near a stream where we may camp."

"Where?" asked Mayumi, and then realized that Dakila was gone. She blinked; a low growl bubbled from the bottom of Angas' throat.

Where? Mayumi lurched forward, her heart suddenly pounding. She fell over a vine and gained a few scr.a.p.es, but she managed to get up and run forward. Brown, gnarled wooden talons scratches and clawed at her – as if the trees themselves wanted to cut her and unravel her into pieces. The night grew darker, an impenetrable black that somehow became bleaker and blacker, and soon she could see almost nothing, as the sun completely withdrew from creation.

Mayumi dashed, not heeding anything else but this instinct, this little yet loud voice at the bottom of her stomach telling her to, run. Run!

She slipped on a wet rock, and felt her shin slam against a root. She winced, cursing emptiness, and she hobbled to her feet. She did not stop moving.

The night was always the most dangerous part of the daily dance. And it was especially dangerous without light, without the guidance of fire, within the woods of Liway – in the shadows of Kalilim Forest.

Of course. Of course the tamawo left me. I'd heard the stories! They trick people and laugh when they… th-they watched poor humans dying from stepping the wrong way, or suddenly snapping their necks from looking around too fast. Damn it all to Sulad, I'm going to die here!

I'm going to die here.

The wind howled through hollow boughs -- the diwata singing a final dirge. A final requiem. Her feet slapped against the forest floor, giving a crunchy snare to that song of death.

I'm going to join Mama, and Papa? And Luning, and Tigas, and Datu Sariman? I will be with them again?

She almost decided to stop running, let the momentum throw her to the ground and willingly die.... until she saw.

There was a light.

A floating ball of fire blazing green led her westward. Without any other option, without any other way, she decided to follow that light. The light did not move until she had caught up to it. It was, indeed, a floating ball of green flame, emitting no heat whatsoever.

From behind it, shadows danced on Dakila's face, illuminated a bright green jade. "I apologize."

Mayumi inhaled, trying to get back all the air she'd wasted. She realized it was hard to inhale then, for she had been crying. Angas nuzzled her neck.

Dakila continued, oblivious to her condition. "I had forgotten you were not of the woods. Dangerous times are the nights of the Masked Moon."

Mayumi was silent for a while, letting the flow of tears dry, letting air back into her lungs again. After a moment, she managed to blurt out, "Please do not vanish like that again." She hated how weak it made her sound. Her will to live had all but vanished.

"I will not. I hold to my apologies. I am not human. Follow me."

Without nary another word, she followed the tall, silver-haired tamawo out of the darkness of the woods and into a clearing, where the starlight managed to find its way to the floor. The clearing was very small, even smaller than the clearing with the Pulong sa'ga Kalag. It felt more like a grove of safety, with a small creek running down the side of it, as if some kind of border. Trees in this clearing seemed to protect, and not to hinder. An especially large tree spread its roots, calling for those that needed rest to sleep within its primal embrace.

Dakila walked over to a spot in front of the roots and flung his green fire toward the soil. The flame billowed, heatless, and turned into a blazing bonfire. "Ada'suga," said Dakila, when he looked at Mayumi. Mayumi blinked, not knowing how scared she actually looked. "Witch-light. It does not emit heat. It comes from my life force." He blinked. "Sleep."

Mayumi blinked again, jarred at the quickness of his speech. But she nodded, tired, still, moreso emotionally than physically. I will not object to that.

She trudged over to the root and sat, and then positioned herself in such a way that she was sleeping with a root curling about her, the tree embracing her and keeping her safe. She prayed to Apung Okot, and to the Goddess Halea to keep her under her watch.

She realized she had fallen asleep the moment she'd laid her head down.

* * *

Mayumi found herself hurtling through an endless inferno, shadows dancing on the edges of the blazing conflagration. She saw the face of her mother; her father was but a blank image, a fleeting shadow-person. Then the image of Luning showed, followed by the Datu and her friends, and Old Man Konar, the man who tilled the fields, and the naturally beautiful wife of the Datu, Alaala, Katalonan of their Datu Sariman's barangay.

Mayumi reached out to them, screaming out each of their names, calling to the spirit of her barangay. A shadow – she couldn't make out who – reached out to her as she reached out to it. Their fingers touched.

Flame erupted from the tips of her finger, and pain exploded through her in thought-searing pulses.

Mayumi screamed, pulling herself back, stumbling backwards and onto more flames, screeching as the inferno enveloped her and burnt her very soul.

Somewhere very far indeed, from what looked to be the very sky itself, Mayumi could see the Full Moon God Bu-an above turning his face away, and the Sun Goddess Adlayari laughing in glee. She did not know their faces, but her spirit told her that it was them.

* * *

Mayumi awoke. Cold crept up on her cheek.

She was in the twilight state of near-waking, with her eyes closed, her eyes looking at the thin barrier that was her eyelids, separating her from full waking. She pondered if she should open them, hesitating at the fact that there was a cold feeling cradling her cheek. Was it some sort of aswang that's finally found her, waiting for her to wake so that it could savor eating her alive?

No. Unlikely. she thought. I've seen how Dakila fights.

Mayumi opened her eyes.

She let out a tiny squeak.

Cradling her cheek, with a narrow, gaunt and sharp-featured face as unchanging as the seasons, as firm and as unyielding as a narra tree, was Dakila. His indigo eyes staring deep into her own. His hand was firm on her cheek, letting it rest there, as if comforting her. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, Dakila blinked. She let out a gasp again. He never blinks.

"You are warm," said Dakila. Behind him, Mayumi could see little lights flittering about, floating about the dark forest space aimlessly, in different, dancing hues of red, blue, yellow, green, indigo, and all.

"Starflies…?" said Mayumi, looking behind Dakila, completely ignoring him.

"Alitaptap. Smitten daughter of the Tala. Herald of fates…" Dakila blinked again. "You have been attacked by a fever. I will have to cure you, but I will have to rest once I've done so."

Mayumi inhaled. She could feel her skin become frail, like a thin parchment, so thin and crisp that if one would push her with a finger, the finger would rip through her skin. The feeling of fragility that accompanied a sickness washed over her, and invaded her thoughts and physicalities. She nodded. Allowing the tamawo to work his magics.

"Are you an albularyo?"

"No." Dakila didn't shake his head as he stared directly into Mayumi's own. She felt his ancient soul. His eyes began to call back and sing of times and years she hadn't lived, hadn't even known. "Would you like to know, at your current state?"

Mayumi opened her mouth to agree, but found that he was right. She was quickly feeling very ill once again.

Dakila nodded, but only the slightest of gestures. "I thought so. I am tamawo. I am born of the diwata, but raised from the earth. Make of those words what you will." And when he said that, he closed his eyes, placed a hand on her forehead, and another hand on her c.h.e.s.t.

Mayumi didn't close her eyes; she saw splotches of black seemingly spiral out from different centerpoints on the tamawo's otherwise perfect, unblemished face. Strands of hair rose up on end, as if crowning the tamawo. His hands became warm, increasingly so, reaching the point of comfortable warmth, but never to the point of burning.

The healing effect was strong. Mayumi knew. As Dakila focused on healing the girl, she in turn, slipped back off, wading down the shores of sleep.