THYME'S POV:
I couldn't believe what she was telling me. "Made?" The word echoed in the sudden silence of the room, a cold, clinical term for a life I had always believed was my own. It felt like a betrayal to the pain I had always carried—the searing wound of a father who had abandoned me, a mother who had hated me because I was a living memory of the man who left her. That was my truth, my history, etched in scars on my soul. Not some grand, cosmic design.
But that was a problem for another time. The immediate problem was more terrifying. I had been in this timeline for what felt like an eternity. No one could see me, no one could hear me, except for this shaman and the scarred ghost of Meta. How was I supposed to get back? My mind was a frantic, panicked whirl of questions.
"Wait," I blurted out, the words a desperate lifeline. "But... but if I'm a spirit, how can I touch things? How could I eat the food you made, or wash the dishes? How is that possible if I just pass through people?" I wanted to grab my own hair in frustration, to tear the answers from my own skull. "I don't get it."
"About your abilities, child, I can answer some of your questions," Aunt Ying said, her voice a calm, steady hand on my panicked mind. She had appeared so silently I hadn't even noticed, as if she had simply solidified from the air. I looked at her, my confusion only deepening. "But I thought you said you couldn't help me."
"I said I could not help you with your fate," she clarified, a soft, knowing chuckle in her voice. "But it does not mean I cannot explain the mechanics of the cage you find yourself in."
"But... how do you know?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
She chuckled again, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to come from a place of ancient wisdom. "I am not the one who knows, child. It is the guardian spirit of that statue." She pointed to a small, five-inch statue on a nearby shelf. It was different from the others, like the anito I'd seen, but with a small, lidded jar perched on its head. The figure felt more alive than anything else in the room.
My heart began to pound in my chest, a frantic drum of pure, unadulterated fear. "Aunt Ying… did you just say there is a spirit in that statue?" I took a clumsy step back, my eyes darting nervously to the dozens of idols in the room. I was surrounded by unseen beings. A cold shiver ran down my spine. "Am I in a horror film? Is this like… Annabelle? Or Chucky? Or the dolls from Tukata Athan?" I yelped, and instinctively, I ducked behind her, my body pressing against her back, a ghost seeking shelter from other ghosts.
She laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that seemed to chase away the shadows. "What is a Chucky? A Tukata Athan?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement.
"They're… they're haunted dolls from films in my timeline," I explained, realizing a moment too late that she wouldn't know. "I guess… they don't exist yet."
"So, cautionary tales from the future," she said, nodding with a calm understanding that never ceased to amaze me. "Do not worry, child. The spirits in these idols will not harm you. They are guardians, allies who help shamans like me perform rituals. They are a bridge to the divine, not a gateway to terror. It is a conversation."
Relief, cold and sweet, washed over me, but the feeling of being watched was still unnerving. I took a deep breath. "So… so what did the guardian spirit say about me?"
"Let's sit," she said. We settled on the floor, and I sat so close I could feel the warmth radiating from her, an anchor in my sea of confusion. A small, sad smile touched her lips. "First, let me introduce you. The name of the spirit is Dumagat ng Gabi."
"Du… Dumagat ng Gabi?" I tried to pronounce it, the syllables strange and foreign.
"Thale Rattikān," she translated into my tongue. "The Sea-dweller of the Night. Thale is a water spirit. The idol where Thale resides now did not come from my mother's bloodline, but from a shaman clan in this country that has long been gone. They were eliminated for abducting shamans from different countries to steal their power. This idol belonged to a babaylan who was one of their victims."
I felt a jolt of recognition. Professor Boranwitee's lecture… a long-gone shaman clan… it was all terrifyingly real.
"But how does Thale know about my ability?" I asked. She closed her eyes, her lips moving in a silent whisper, as if listening to a voice only she could hear.
"Thale says your ability is the same as four shamans from that lost clan," she said, her eyes opening, now filled with a strange, otherworldly light. "There were four who could walk the river of time. One of them carried this idol. That is why Thale knows how your ability works, child. It remembers."
A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. If I could understand my ability, I could control it. I could go home.
"Your ability is a form of protection, child," she continued, her voice gaining a new, somber authority. "When you travel, your physical body becomes spirit-like. You are not a ghost, but a being caught between worlds. That is why you can still feel hunger and touch inanimate objects that share your temporal space. However, you cannot touch ordinary people, because you and they are on different planes of existence. Think of it as trying to touch a reflection in the water."
"Is that why I couldn't stop the old man yesterday, but I could eat and sleep in your house?" I asked, a new sense of understanding dawning on me.
She nodded slowly. "Yes, Thyme. Because I am not an ordinary person. I can see you, and therefore I can interact with your spiritual form. But listen closely. The longer you stay in a timeline that is not your own, the more your spiritual body will solidify. It will gain physical form. That is when you can truly change events. And that is also when you can be killed."
The explanation was a cold, logical truth that sent a chill down my spine.
"But… but how could the scarred-face Meta touch me?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Aunt Ying's eyes widened, the warmth draining from them, replaced by a sharp, sudden fear. "Child… how do you know Khun Metharaj? Have you met him already?"
Her use of his full name, her raw panic, terrified me. "How do you know him, Aunt Ying?"
She grabbed my shoulders, her grip surprisingly strong, her face inches from mine. "It's a long story, but you must listen carefully to me, Thyme." I could feel the fear coming off her in waves. "That man, the one you met, is not the same as the Meta who is your fated bond. The future that is trying to change the past will never win. Only the divine has that right, and anyone who goes against that rule will suffer. That Meta… he is a man playing God, and he will kill you, Thyme. He will see you as a flaw in his plan, a loose thread he must snip. Do not go near him. If you meet him again, you must run."
Her voice dropped to a near-whisper, her eyes wide with a terror that was now for me. "You will die by his hands if you stay in this timeline. Your fate is to be with the other one, the one from your time. But this man… this ghost from the past… he will erase you to ensure his own future."
I couldn't understand everything she was saying, but I knew one thing. The scarred-face Meta was not just a nightmare. He was real. And he really was going to kill me.
"I'm still confused, Aunt Ying," I said, my voice shaking. "But I will listen to you. I will not get close to him." I tried to reassure her, even as a new, more profound terror began to settle in my heart.
"I don't want you to get hurt, child."
I don't know why, but Aunt Ying's words, spoken with such simple, heartfelt sincerity, struck a chord deep within me. It was the way she looked at me, her eyes filled with a warmth that was achingly familiar. In that moment, she wasn't just a mysterious shaman from another time; she tilted her head slightly, a small, sad smile gracing her lips, and the gesture was so reminiscent of my grandmother that my breath caught in my throat. That was it. That was why I felt so safe here, so comfortable. In this terrifying, unfamiliar timeline, I had stumbled upon the ghost of a warmth I thought I had lost forever.
"But Aunt Ying," I began, my voice thick with a desperate hope I couldn't suppress, "does Thale… does he know how I can get back? Is there a way for me to return to my own timeline?"
She closed her eyes, and a profound stillness settled over her. When she spoke again, her voice was a soft, distant echo, as if she were translating a message from across a great sea. "No, child. Thale does not know the exact path for you. The shaman who once carried this idol… he, too, had troubles returning. He was lost for many years. Thale cannot give you a map."
My heart sank, a stone dropping into a bottomless well. The fragile hope shattered.
"But," she continued, her eyes fluttering open, a strange, otherworldly light now swirling in their depths, "he can provide a hint. He can tell you the nature of the keys that open the doors between worlds for you."
With those words, another, more dangerous hope took root. A hint was better than nothing. It was a start.
"Thale says your existence is woven from the threads of many gods, beings who exist outside of time as you know it," she explained, her voice taking on a rhythmic, storytelling cadence. "They are the Lords of Time, Life, and Death. The Governors of Sun, Moon, Water, and Air. Your very being is a confluence of their powers. That is why the river of time answers your call."
My mind reeled, trying to grasp the sheer scale of what she was saying. Gods? Plural?
"He says a doorway can be opened when a trinity of these domains is present," she stated, her gaze intense. "When three of these powers converge, the veil between worlds thins for you. That is the moment you can pass through."
A trinity. Three powers. My mind, a frantic machine, began to race, pulling fragments of memory from the chaos. I started to piece it together, the logic of it a dawning, terrifying light.
"The first time…" I whispered, my voice trembling as I replayed the memory. "The first time I traveled, I was drowning. There was the blazing Sun above me. The salt water of the Sea. And… and my life was slipping away. I was at Death's door."
Sun. Water. Death. A perfect, horrifying trinity. The realization was a jolt of ice through my veins.
"And then," I continued, my voice barely audible, "when I came back here, to your timeline, it was at the river. The scarred Meta… he was trying to kill me. There was the pale Moon in the sky. The dark River water. And him, holding a gun… the promise of Death."
Moon. Water. Death. Another one. The pattern was undeniable, a brutal, elegant equation. My breath caught in my throat, a choked, strangled sound. My blood ran cold as the final, terrible conclusion slammed into me.
"Shit!" I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth, my eyes wide with a terror that eclipsed everything I had felt before. "Does that mean… to travel… do I have to almost die every time?" The question hung in the air, a monstrous, unbearable weight. Was I trapped in a cycle of near-death experiences, a puppet forced to dance on the edge of my own grave just to find my way home? What if one time, I didn't come back?
Aunt Ying saw the pure, abject terror on my face. She reached out and placed a warm hand on my knee, the contact a grounding force. "Death is the most powerful key, child, for it is the ultimate doorway," she said, her voice soft and reassuring. "But it is not the only one. It is merely the loudest. Thale says there are other elements you can use. Other trinities you can find."
Relief, so potent it almost made me dizzy, washed over me. There were other ways.
"What did I experience before?" I mumbled to myself, my mind racing again, this time with a desperate, analytical fervor. "The fog… and the smoke from the grills. That could be Air." Yes, that had to be it. "But what about the elevator? And the lecture hall door?" How could a simple door be a conduit for gods?
My thoughts tangled into a knot of fresh confusion, and another question, one that had been lurking in the shadows of my mind, pushed its way forward.
"Aunt Ying," I began, my voice hesitant. "Thale told you that the people from that clan who could time travel… they were shamans. If I have their ability… am I… am I also a shaman?"
Aunt Ying looked at me, a long, appraising gaze that seemed to see not just the scared boy before her, but something deeper, something ancient. A small, enigmatic smile touched her lips.
"That, child," she said softly, "is a question only you can answer."