After a strange conversation with Sir Jonas yesterday.
The Wake-Up Call of the Century
"Kuyaaa! Kuya Aldeeeeen! Wake uuuup!"
(Kuya — Tagalog for "older brother")
Tin-Tin's voice blasted through the hallway like a fire alarm. She stood at Alden's bedroom door, wearing her unicorn slippers the ones with pink sunglasses and kicked at the wood with theatrical determination. In one hand, she clutched her stuffed cat, using its plush tail to knock-knock-knock like it was a gavel of justice.
Inside, Alden was cocooned in his blanket like a human burrito, half-drowned in his pillow.
"Tin-Tin... it's only six a.m.," he groaned, his voice thick with sleep, ending in a yawn big enough to swallow the morning.
"Nooo! It's already seven! Mama said you're late!"
"And yesterday, you told me, 'Tomorrow, I'll wake up early,' remember? But now look at you sleeping like it's a field trip day!"
Without hesitation, Tin-Tin barged in. She peeked at the blanket lump and began poking it with her toy cat's tail like she was on a rescue mission.
"You're seriously the noisiest alarm clock in the world," Alden muttered, dragging a pillow over his head. "Louder than Mang Ruel's tricycle…"
(Tricycle — a common Philippine three-wheeled public ride, usually very noisy)
(Mang — respectful term for an older man)
"Thank you! I practice every morning!" Tin-Tin replied sweetly, flashing a grin one front tooth missing. Then, with all the grace of a ninja kangaroo, she launched herself onto the bed.
"Ouch!" Alden groaned.
"I'm not a trampoline!"
The Breakfast Chronicles
In the kitchen, Mama flipped cheese-stuffed hotdogs on the frying pan while singing an old Filipino love song. The air was rich with the scent of garlic rice and hot cocoa.
Alden sat at the table looking like a zombie risen from the grave, nursing a steaming mug of Milo (a popular Filipino chocolate malt drink).
"Kuya, do you have homework? I don't! Yay me!" Tin-Tin said proudly, throwing her arms in the air like she just won the barangay raffle.
(Barangay — the smallest local government unit in the Philippines, like a village or neighborhood)
"Congrats," Alden replied dryly. "You should turn that ketchup into a trophy."
He pointed at her plate where the ketchup was smeared like a piece of modern art.
"Kuya... if Camille sees you like this, she might think you're lazy."
Alden raised an eyebrow. "Since when did Camille become your teacher?"
"She's not! But she's gonna be my Ate soon when you two start dating!"
(Ate — Tagalog for "older sister")
"HA?!" Alden choked, nearly spraying chocolate milk all over the table.
"Tin-Tin! You're not even supposed to say stuff like that!"
"I was just saying!" she grinned innocently. "Wow, you're so jumpy."
Their mom laughed as she plated the food. "Every morning in this house feels like a sitcom."
Despite the chaos, Alden felt something he hadn't in a while: peace.
No green lights in his dreams. No whispering. No fire.
Just a noisy, loving, ordinary morning.
And somehow, that made it feel extraordinary.
Too Perfect
The next morning, the sun rose once more above the school, casting golden light across freshly swept walkways and glinting off polished windows. To the unknowing eye, everything looked perfectly normal.
Students chatted and laughed in clusters. Footsteps echoed. Lockers banged open and shut. Teachers barked orders and bulletin boards overflowed with Foundation Week posters.
But to Alden, the world felt... off.
Artificial.
The lights flickered with shadows that didn't belong. The too-clean hallways, the flawless paint, the synchronized routines they all felt too… rehearsed. Too perfect.
"Everyone looks so happy, huh?" Camille said softly beside him as they walked down the corridor. "But... something feels off. Like the air's pretending."
Alden glanced at her, his eyes distant. A small smile tugged at his lips, but never reached his eyes.
"Yeah," he said. "It's... too quiet."
The Classroom Smile
In class, life went on.
Paulo and Caesar argued over their mobile game. Camille excitedly shared ideas for her new Wattpad story. The room buzzed with energy and laughter.
Alden laughed too.
But inside, he was hollow. Like a drum loud outside, empty within.
His eyes drifted to the window beside his desk.
Camille once told him: "Look out when it gets too much."
But today, the sky offered no comfort.
Behind the clouds… something stirred.
A presence. Watching. Waiting.
After Class
After class, Alden and Camille walked together in silence.
"You're still not okay, are you?" she asked, tightening her shoelaces.
Alden shook his head. "It feels like something's missing. Like… something's coming."
She didn't respond right away, but her gaze lingered on him searching for the boy who used to smile without effort.
"When things get too heavy," she said gently, "I just look up. The sky's always there. Doesn't care, but it's whole. Constant."
Alden met her eyes. He wanted to believe that.
"Thanks," he said softly. "You don't know how heavy this is. But somehow... it feels a little lighter now."
"If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. But... just remember, you're not alone."
They shared a silence that didn't feel heavy.
The kind that breathes with you.
Like a calm before a storm.
"I think I'll head somewhere," Alden murmured.
"Alone?" Camille joked, but her tone betrayed her concern.
"Maybe not. Maybe... I just need air."
As he walked away, Camille watched him go, her hand pressing lightly over her chest. A quiet thought echoed:
"I hope you'll be okay."
The Rooftop
Each step up the stairs echoed like a heartbeat.
Alden wasn't just looking for quiet.
He was being called.
When he opened the rooftop door, he froze.
Bathed in the amber light of sunset stood Sir Jonas, black coat billowing slightly, hands in his pockets, staring at the horizon.
Beside him sat a girl maybe thirteen perched casually on his shoulder.
"A... kid?" Alden whispered. "And what are you doing here… with Sir Jonas?"
The girl said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes.
Some truths don't need words.
Jonas answered, his voice deep and calm.
"As I told you before there's no point in hiding anymore. You deserve the truth."
He paused. "Well… not all of it. Hahaha—"
BONK!
The girl smacked him on the head.
"Ow! Hey!"
Alden stared at them, clearly confused.
"What… is going on?"
Jonas stepped forward. The air around them stilled, like the sky was holding its breath.
"We've been watching you, Alden. Protecting you. Longer than you know. And yesterday. You proved it. You truly are... his son."
Alden's breath caught. "Whose son? Are you saying... my parents aren't...did my father do something or what.!?"
Jonas shook his head. "Not the time yet but, ,You must be ready."
"Ready for what?!"
"For the truth that you are not ordinary. You carrying the title of Maharlika. And this… is only the beginning."
(Maharlika — a noble warrior class in pre-colonial Philippines; here reimagined as a powerful lineage)
Alden staggered. "I... don't get it."
He turned to the girl. "And her? What's her role in this?"
"She?" Jonas blinked. "Oh, she's my daughter. Her name is Esela."
"WHAT?! You have a kid?! Did you kidnap her?!"
"HEY!" Jonas snapped. "Even though I look like this, I have a life, okay?! You disrespectful brat!"
He raised a fist playfully, but Esela jumped down and stepped between them.
Her eyes locked with Alden's.
"I've been watching you since your first day here," she said coolly. "And aside from being popular… your life sucks."
Alden scowled. (Like father, like daughter. Yeah, no DNA test needed.)
"You need to get strong. Fast," she added.
"Huh? Why? I don't understand—"
Suddenly, Jonas dropped to one knee and placed a hand over his chest.
"And why are you kneeling?!"
"No clue."
"Bullshit."
"Fine, it's a dramatic flair! Let me have this!" he laughed.
Then he straightened, serious again.
"I am Jonas. A warrior from Ugatbanwa the hidden realm beyond this world. An elite guardian known as Kalasag our shield. I have protected you from the shadows past and present."
Alden stumbled back, heart pounding.
"Why me?" he whispered. "Why do I need protection?"
"Because of what you carry inside," Jonas said. "When you stood against the darkness, even without knowing the truth that's when I knew."
"Knew what?" Alden asked, voice cracking. "Who am I?"
Jonas placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You don't need to know who you are. Not yet. What matters now... is how you survive what's coming."
"What do you mean? What's coming?"
Jonas's face turned grim.
"It wasn't just monsters that awoke yesterday. When the crack opened, the thirst of the dark slipped through. And now, the beings beyond the veil… they know you're alive."
Alden's voice dropped. "Why me? Why do they want me?"
Esela answered coldly:
"Because you're the key.
And the key... is always fought over."
Alden stood still, staring up.
But the sky no longer offered peace.
Now, it rumbled with distant thunder heavy, gray, foreboding.
Yet within his chest, past the panic and fear…
A fire had begun to stir.
He didn't know who he truly was.
He didn't know why it had to be him.
But one thing was clear:
He wasn't alone anymore.
And for now…
That was enough.