Carina's POV
The rain continued to pour, an unrelenting downpour that seemed to have no end. The sky was heavy with the weight of it, and the earth beneath my feet felt damp, soaked, and cold. The air was thick with the scent of wet soil, but it did little to clear the storm brewing inside me. The storm wasn’t outside, though—it was inside. In my mind. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, an incessant whirlpool of confusion, anger, and guilt that I couldn’t escape.
I stood there, in front of Ric’s grave, surrounded by strangers, family, and friends, all gathered in mourning. They were all crying, the sobs of his mother, in particular, the only sound that cut through the thick air. She clutched her son’s picture in her hands, her face a mask of grief, wracked with the kind of pain that only a mother could understand. I stood there, numb, silent, detached. They thought I was grieving, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t. Not in the way they expected.
It was hard to explain how I felt—like I was frozen, like I was standing outside of my body, looking in, observing the whole situation from a distance. The soft murmurs of sympathy, the endless speeches of "he was too young," the tragic stories about his illness, none of it reached me. All I could think about was the shadow. The one that had taken Ric away. I didn’t need to hear the words to know that it had done this. It had been growing stronger, feeding off Ric’s life force, and now... now it had him.
The whispers around me only solidified what I already knew. I overheard one of the elderly women talking to a group of others, their voices muffled by the sound of the rain outside.
“They say the engkanto came for him,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “He was chosen... you know, the prince. The one from the legends. He’s always been there, in the fields. Watching. Waiting.”
I didn’t want to hear it, but I couldn’t help but listen. My stomach churned, a knot tightening in my gut as the words pierced through my cold indifference. They spoke of Ric like he was never truly human. Like he was never alive to begin with. And the thing that had taken him? They called it the prince. The engkanto prince.
A cold shiver ran down my spine, and for a moment, I thought I might lose control, that I might break. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. There was too much at stake.
The people gathered around the funeral home spoke of the legend. They spoke of the prince who lived in the fields, who was said to be a creature of unimaginable power. They said he had been searching for a bride for centuries, waiting for someone special to come. But no one had ever figured out where the prince had gone. They only knew that once he appeared, something always went wrong.
Ric’s death wasn’t just a tragedy—it was a warning.
The words rang in my ears like a bell, the sound echoing through the vast emptiness of my mind. The prince. The missing prince.
I swallowed hard, trying to force back the nausea that churned in my stomach. I wanted to run, to flee, to escape from the reality of what was happening. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. Not when the shadow was still with me, standing somewhere in the dark corners of my mind.
The rain was a constant reminder that the world outside was collapsing, just as my world was. Inside, I was breaking apart, piece by piece. My heart didn’t ache for Ric like the others—no, my heart was numb. It didn’t hurt. But inside, I knew something was wrong. The shadow had taken Ric. I knew it.
And it wasn’t done yet.
I could feel it, in the way it moved around me. It was always there, lurking, watching, waiting. The prince—it—had been with me for so long now, had grown with me, and I had allowed it to take Ric.
The weight of that realization hit me harder than I had expected.
I didn’t love Ric. Not like I thought I did. He was a fleeting part of my life, a brief connection that I allowed to slip away. But now he was gone. And the shadow, the prince, was still with me. It always would be.
The rain intensified, and the world outside seemed to blur as I stood there, still, silent. I felt the cold rain seeping through my clothes, drenching me, but it didn’t matter. My body was already numb. Nothing could touch me anymore. Not the rain, not the grief, not the sorrow that surrounded me.
As the funeral ceremony dragged on, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the shadow was watching me. I could almost feel it, lurking in the corners of my mind, waiting for me to acknowledge it.
But I didn’t. I refused to.
Not here. Not now.
I turned away from Ric’s grave, the air thick with grief and whispers. My feet carried me away from the others, away from the crowd. My mind was a fog, a haze of confusion and terror. But I couldn’t let them see me break. I couldn’t let them see that I knew what had truly happened to Ric.
The shadow had claimed him. It was always the shadow, the prince, the thing that had always been there, watching, waiting, feeding.
I looked up at the sky, the clouds heavy and dark. The storm showed no sign of stopping. It was like the world itself was mourning Ric’s loss, or maybe it was mourning the fact that the shadow had finally claimed its prize.
As I walked away from the funeral, I could still hear the soft whispers in the distance, the legends, the warnings. They would never stop. And neither would the shadow. It was here to stay.
And it wasn’t done yet.
I swallowed the lump in my throat as I turned back toward the house. There was no escaping it. No escaping him.
Not anymore.
****
The rain had not stopped. If anything, it seemed as if the sky itself was crying, its tears blending with the ones I’d kept hidden inside for so long. I didn’t want to acknowledge the truth of what had been happening in my life—the shadow, the prince, the engkanto that had consumed Ric. But now, as I stood alone in the midst of that grief-filled funeral, I knew I couldn’t run from it anymore. I could no longer hide from the truth.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but I eventually slipped away from the others. I couldn’t bear the sympathy, the endless murmurs of "he’s in a better place now." They didn’t know. They could never understand. I had to leave. And I had to leave tonight.
I had been secretly planning this for days, gathering the courage to take the one step that could sever the thread that connected me to the shadow. Ric’s grandmother had been the only person who knew about my growing fear. She had sensed it long before I could admit it to myself—the power that was slowly consuming me. The shadow wasn’t just watching anymore; it was waiting, waiting for the moment when I would be its next victim.
I had visited her late at night, when the house was quiet, when no one could hear our whispers. Her eyes, though clouded with age, were sharp, knowing. She had listened patiently as I spoke of the shadow, of Ric’s mysterious illness, of how the creature had grown with me, feeding off the life force of those around me. And when I had finished speaking, she had said one thing, her voice as steady as the rain outside:
“You must leave. Tonight.”
Her words echoed in my mind as I made my way through the streets, the downpour turning the roads into rivers. I clutched my jacket tightly around me, my heart pounding in my chest. Ric’s grandmother had promised to keep my plan a secret, to help me escape. She knew of the darkness I was running from, and she had told me of the ancient stories passed down through generations.
“The creature you’re dealing with is no ordinary shadow,” she had warned me. “It’s a diablo, a demon, a creature of the night. It’s not something that belongs in this world, Carina. And it will never let you go. It will keep feeding on you, on those you love, until there’s nothing left. But you still have a chance. If you run now, it might not catch you. It doesn’t know every move you make. Not yet.”
I had asked her why I was still alive, why the shadow hadn’t taken me completely. Her answer had been chilling.
“Because it’s still toying with you, playing its games. It hasn’t fully latched onto you yet. But the moment it does, it won’t let go. And it will come for you in ways you can’t even imagine. You have to leave. Now.”
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as I remembered those words. The shadow was no longer just an entity in my room, a lingering presence in the corners of my mind. It was something more—a force of nature, something that had been waiting for centuries, seeking to claim its prize. And I had been foolish enough to think I could control it.
I couldn’t. And the price for that mistake was too high.
I had arrived at Ric’s grandmother’s house just before nightfall. She had packed my things for me, just a few essentials—clothes, my books, the things that mattered. The rest, I left behind. I wasn’t looking back anymore. Not at the house, not at the fields, not at the shadow. I couldn’t.
I could hear the thunder booming overhead as I stepped inside her small, humble home. Her eyes, though filled with worry, gave me a sense of peace. She didn’t speak much as I entered; she only nodded toward the small bag of belongings by the door.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” she said softly. “You must go now, before it’s too late.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. Without a second thought, I grabbed the bag and walked swiftly toward the door. As I stepped out into the storm, I felt the weight of everything I was leaving behind—the people, the memories, the shadow. But I didn’t feel the same fear I had before. No, now, I felt something else. I felt free. Free from the curse that had bound me for so long.
The old woman had given me a head start. I knew that the shadow couldn’t track me immediately—it was still too far behind. But I had to run, and I had to run fast. There was no time to waste.
I didn’t stop running. The rain lashed against my skin as I ran through the winding streets, through alleyways, down the roads that led far from my old home. I wasn’t sure where I was going. All I knew was that I had to get away. I couldn’t stay in that cursed place any longer.
With every step I took, I could feel the shadow’s presence fading behind me, like a dark cloud lifting just out of reach. It was as if I could finally breathe again, the suffocating weight of its watchful eyes no longer pressing on me. But still, I knew I couldn’t let my guard down. The diablo didn’t give up easily. It would follow me, searching, waiting, until it found its next opening.
I ran for hours, the sound of the storm and my pounding footsteps filling my ears, until I found myself standing at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a vast, darkened valley. The wind howled around me, the rain still falling in torrents, but I didn’t care. I was far from home. Far from the fields. Far from the shadow.
And for the first time in years, I felt at peace.
But in the distance, just beyond the reach of the storm, I could have sworn I saw something. Something dark, moving through the rain. And for just a moment, I could feel the shadow’s presence again—faint, but there.
It wasn’t over yet.
But I was ready.
I was ready to run for as long as it took.
****