Carina's POV
Summer’s golden days were coming to an end. The cicadas buzzed faintly in the distance, their song mingling with the occasional rustling of the breeze through the tall grass. I rode my bike along the narrow dirt path that wound through the fields, the sun warm on my back.
The thought of school starting soon didn’t exactly thrill me. Not that I hated it—I just wasn’t eager to face the chatter and noise again. My time alone in the fields had become a kind of sanctuary. A place where I could think, feel, and exist without the interruptions of the world.
The familiar laughter and hoots of the neighborhood boys broke the quiet. Up ahead, I spotted the group of teens on their bikes, weaving playfully along the dirt path. The same boys I’d seen so many times before. The same boys who had teased me for my awkward Tagalog.
As I neared them, one of them turned and grinned, calling out.
“Hoy, Carina!”
The others followed suit, their faces lighting up with a mix of teasing and friendliness.
I slowed my bike as I approached them. This time, their energy didn’t feel quite so grating. Maybe it was the end-of-summer nostalgia.
“Hi,” I greeted, resting one foot on the ground to steady myself.
“Uy, American girl is brave now,” one of them joked, his grin wide. “No more mad-mad?”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little. “You’re lucky I didn’t push you guys off your bikes last time.”
That earned a chorus of exaggerated laughter and playful gasps.
“Okay, okay,” said one boy, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “We’re friends now, yes?”
“Sure,” I replied, then hesitated. “Where’s Ric? I haven’t seen him in a while.”
Their laughter died down. The air seemed to shift, their smiles fading into something more subdued.
One of the boys, smaller and quieter than the rest, spoke up. “Ric is… sick.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
“Sick? What kind of sick?” I asked, frowning.
The boy who had teased me the most, Paulo, scratched the back of his head, his usual smirk replaced by something close to worry. “He’s been in and out of hospitals, but they don’t know what’s wrong with him. His lola said it’s not something a doctor can fix.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, my heart sinking.
Paulo shrugged, his tone a little uneasy. “You know… old people stuff. She thinks it’s something… different. Something not from here.”
“Like what?”
He glanced at the others, as if unsure whether to say more.
The quiet boy spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. “His lola says he might’ve upset something. Like an engkanto.”
The word sent a shiver down my spine.
“An engkanto?” I repeated.
Paulo nodded, his voice lower now. “His lola’s been doing all kinds of rituals to help him. But she says it’s hard because they don’t know what he did to upset it.”
I felt a strange tightness in my chest, an unease I couldn’t quite place. The mention of engkantos brought back Ric’s warnings from the picnic, the stories he’d told me with that teasing grin of his.
“Is he… is he going to be okay?” I asked, trying to mask the worry in my voice.
The boys exchanged glances, their expressions uncertain.
“I don’t know,” Paulo admitted. “He’s been getting worse.”
For a moment, none of us said anything. The only sounds were the rustling of the grass and the faint hum of the cicadas.
“Well,” Paulo finally said, forcing a smile, “if you’re really friends with Ric, maybe you should visit him. He’ll like that.”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what to say or do.
“Where is he now?” I asked.
“At home,” the quiet boy answered. “His lola doesn’t let many people visit, though.”
I thanked them, my mind swirling with thoughts as I watched them ride off down the path.
As I turned my bike toward home, I couldn’t help but glance at the darkened window of my room in the distance.
A shadow moved just behind the curtain.
Was it watching? Did it already know what I’d just learned?
A strange chill ran through me, the warmth of the sun suddenly feeling distant.
Ric’s words about engkantos replayed in my mind. Some were good. Some were bad.
But what if they were neither?
What if they were something else entirely?
****
The sun had long dipped below the horizon by the time I got home. Dinner was quiet, save for the occasional clink of my spoon against the bowl of sinigang Mama had made. The tangy, comforting broth filled me, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Ric’s face swam in my mind, his easy grin replaced by the worry his friends had described.
“Sick,” I murmured under my breath, barely noticing when Papa asked if I wanted more rice.
By the time I climbed the stairs to my room, the house was silent, the soft hum of the electric fan the only sound. The weight of the day pressed down on me as I opened my door, stepping into the dimly lit space.
And there it was.
The shadow.
But it wasn’t just a shadow anymore.
It stood upright in the corner of my room, its presence commanding and undeniable. The patches of white on its form had spread. Where once it was an amorphous darkness, it now had shape. An arm, fully formed, pale and human-like, hung by its side. Its hair, long and flowing, was a mix of deep black streaked with small patches of white.
I couldn’t look away from its face. The inky blackness of its features had given way to something almost human. Patches of pale skin revealed a jawline, a nose, and closed eyelids adorned with long, white lashes. When its eyes opened, I felt my breath hitch.
They were white. Completely white. Yet, they seemed to hold galaxies within them, swirling with an otherworldly glow that was both mesmerizing and unnerving.
It stood tall, towering over me, its presence filling the room.
“W-what are you?” I whispered, the words escaping me before I could think better of them.
It tilted its head slightly, the movement slow, almost curious.
I swallowed hard and took a cautious step forward. My heart pounded in my chest as I drew closer, unable to tear my gaze from its form.
“Are you…” My voice trembled. “Are you slowly killing him?”
The question hung in the air like a weight.
The shadow—no, the being—didn’t respond. Instead, it leaned forward, its movements smooth and deliberate, as if every gesture carried meaning.
Before I could react, its hand—a strange, elegant mix of black and white—reached out, its fingers brushing against my cheek. Its touch was cool, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Don’t…” I whispered, unsure if I meant it as a plea to stop or an invitation to continue.
Its other hand rose to my neck, the lightest touch tracing the curve of my skin. I should have been terrified. Every instinct in me screamed to run, to get away from whatever this thing was.
But I didn’t.
Because I knew.
It had never harmed me before.
It leaned closer, its face mere inches from mine. The faintest hint of something familiar lingered in the air—like the scent of rain-soaked earth and night-blooming flowers. Its inhumanly perfect eyes closed for a moment as it inhaled deeply, as though drinking in my scent.
“You smell of warmth,” it murmured, its voice deep and smooth, like velvet brushing against my ears. “Do not be afraid of me.”
Its words were soft, but they carried an undeniable weight, wrapping around me like a blanket in the cold.
I managed a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you here?”
It straightened slightly, but its hand remained on my cheek, the coolness of its touch grounding me despite the storm of emotions inside me.
“To care for you,” it replied, its tone as steady as the dark itself. “To protect you.”
I shook my head, a flicker of defiance breaking through my fear. “Protect me from what?”
Its white eyes locked onto mine, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something… sorrowful? Regretful?
“From the world,” it answered, cryptic and vague, as always.
My heart raced as I stepped back, its hand falling away as I put distance between us. I couldn’t ignore the knot of dread tightening in my chest.
“What about Ric?” I pressed. “Is this because of him?”
It didn’t answer. It simply retreated, stepping back into the corner of my room where the shadows seemed to fold around it like a cloak.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where its luminous eyes had been.
The air felt heavier now, as though its presence lingered even after it had disappeared into the dark.
I walked to the bathroom, my mind a tangle of fear, curiosity, and something else I couldn’t quite name. The cool water from the shower did little to soothe my nerves.
When I finally climbed into bed, I felt the weight of exhaustion pulling me down, but my thoughts refused to settle.
And then, just as I began to drift off, I felt it.
A cold presence behind me, a familiar sensation I’d come to recognize.
It wrapped around me gently, the icy embrace oddly comforting despite the tension coiled in my chest.
I dared to turn my head slightly, my eyes adjusting to the darkness. And there it was, its face inches from mine.
Its once-shadowy form now bore patches of pale skin, and its white eyes seemed softer somehow, almost human in their depth.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
And then, softly, it whispered:
“You are mine.”
Its words were neither a threat nor a promise. They simply were.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.
Because deep down, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.
****