The summit complex at night was a different creature entirely. The noise of the day faded into soft echoes — the whisper of rain brushing against tiled roofs, the muffled hum of the city beyond the walls, and the distant call of a horn from the bay. Lanterns lined the stone walkways, their light swaying with the breeze, casting rippling shadows that bent and stretched like watchful figures.
Kael wasn't tired. His body, perhaps, but not his mind. He had been through too many days like this — days where everything looked orderly on the surface, yet his gut told him something was curling beneath, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Sena stepped into the hall from her room, fastening the clasp on her cloak. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Kael shook his head. "Too quiet."
A few steps later, Cess emerged from the opposite side, barefoot, hair loose, the Spear of Tala nowhere in sight. "I was going to get some fresh air. Guess we're all on the same schedule."
The three fell into step, their footsteps soft against the polished stone.
————
The Fountain's Reflection
The central courtyard was almost deserted. The great fountain that had been a backdrop for the day's polite exchanges now stood still under the drizzle, its waters catching the light like shards of glass. Kael leaned on the edge, staring into the reflection of the summit's main tower.
Then he noticed it — a faint shimmer in the water, like heat haze, but wrong. The surface warped in precise, rhythmic pulses, as if something deep below were breathing.
Sena frowned. "The rain's not doing that."
Cess crouched, dipping two fingers in. "The water's warm. It wasn't earlier."
The pulse quickened.
Kael's eyes swept the courtyard. There was no one in sight… until a shadow moved on the far balcony of the adjacent wing. Not walking. Gliding. The figure paused, head turning just enough to suggest it was watching them.
Before Kael could speak, the shimmer vanished. The water stilled. The warmth faded, as though it had never been there.
————
The Vanishing Figure
"Did you see—" Kael began.
"Yes," Sena cut in. Her tone was clipped.
Cess rose slowly. "Balcony. West wing. There's no public access there tonight."
They moved quickly, crossing the courtyard and up the covered stairs. But when they reached the balcony, it was empty. Only the sound of rain and the smell of wet stone greeted them.
A single droplet slid from the railing, darker than water — a smear of ink.
Cess touched it, rubbing it between her fingers. "Not ink," she said. "Relic residue."
Sena's eyes narrowed. "Artificial relic?"
"Maybe," Cess said. "But if it was… it's too clean. Whoever it belongs to knows how to hide their tracks."
—————
The Decision to Stay Silent
Kael stared back across the courtyard to the fountain, still as glass. "If we tell your father or the summit leaders, it'll cause panic."
"And the wrong people will hear about it before the right ones do," Cess added grimly. "Which means we keep this between us for now."
Sena crossed her arms. "We're already walking into this summit half-blind. Now we're doing it with someone in the shadows."
Kael's grip tightened on the Ruyi Jingu Bang. "Then we find them before they move again."
They stood there for a long moment, the rain pattering around them, each silently acknowledging the truth: they weren't alone in their steps anymore.
————-
A Watcher in the Dark
Far across the compound, beyond the reach of lantern light, the cloaked figure leaned against a wooden beam. Their face was hidden, but a faint gleam of metal — a fragment of some strange, sleek relic — caught the light before vanishing back into shadow.
The figure whispered something into the air, and a ripple of darkness shivered outward, as though carrying the message away. Then they were gone, swallowed by the night.
The moon lay heavy in the western sky, its silver light stretched thin by drifting clouds.
Down where the city met the sea, the old breakwater curved like a sleeping serpent into the dark waters. It was here the hooded figure stood, cloak whipping in the salt wind.
They knelt on the worn stones, placing an object into the water — a shard of obsidian, etched with spirals and jagged sigils.
The waves seemed to flinch as it sank, sending a strange ripple outward, a tremor more felt than seen.
A low hum rose from beneath the surface, deep and resonant, like the first exhale of something that had been asleep for too long. The figure didn't flinch. They removed a second relic from their satchel — a bone flute carved from something far larger than any human. The surface was pitted, weathered by age, and still warm to the touch.
They blew a single note.
The sound wasn't loud, but it traveled. It seeped into the stones, into the tide, into the faint shimmer of moonlight dancing on the waves. Out beyond the bay, the darkness shifted — as if a shadow beneath the water had stirred.
The figure leaned close to the sea, their voice a whisper carried away by the wind.
"Wake."
The hum grew stronger. The waves thickened with unseen movement, the kind that made even the gulls retreat inland.
Satisfied, the hooded figure rose, gathering their things. The bone flute vanished beneath their cloak, the obsidian shard already gone to the deep. As they walked away, they did not notice — or perhaps did not care — that the tide was already shifting, pulling ever so slightly harder toward the open sea.
————
The Morning After
Cess awoke before dawn, as she often did. Old habits from early morning training with her father never truly faded. She dressed simply, fastening the Spear of Tala across her back.
She stepped to the balcony, inhaling the cool, damp air — and froze.
The stars were wrong.
Not dramatically so; to most eyes, nothing was amiss. But to Cess, the constellations were old friends, and tonight, some of them flickered. A faint pulse, like candlelight trembling in a draft. And the moon… it looked duller, as though something unseen was swallowing its light at the edges.
Her stomach tightened. She gripped the spear, whispering a prayer under her breath — not for battle, but for clarity. The relic pulsed faintly, but offered no vision, only the lingering sensation of a slow, deliberate pull toward the sea.
She didn't like it.
Kael and Sena found her in the courtyard later that morning.
"You're up early," Kael remarked, noticing her restless pacing.
"Couldn't sleep," Cess said, tone sharper than usual. She hesitated, then added, "The sky's… different. Something's pulling at it."
"Pulling at the sky?" Sena asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I know how it sounds," Cess replied. "But the Spear feels it too. I've never sensed this before — not in the Philippines, not anywhere. It's like something's calling to the moon."
Kael's gaze lingered on her, but before he could speak, the sound of voices drew their attention. Two men in embroidered sashes — delegates from one of the smaller sovereign factions — were speaking in low tones near the colonnade.
"…all it takes is one spectacle. They'll scatter like fish," one said.
"And the trade council will fall right into line," the other replied. "Our… associate… will make sure of it."
Kael's instincts flared.
The men noticed their presence and quickly ended the conversation, offering polite bows before vanishing into the summit hall.
————
A Fractured Calm
Inside, the main atrium bustled with preparations for the second day of the ASEAN Relics Summit. Flags hung from the balconies, the air thick with the scent of incense and polished wood. Relic bearers moved among diplomats, their weapons sheathed but never far from hand.
Cess led Kael and Sena through the crowd, her eyes scanning not just faces, but posture, movement, even the way people's shadows stretched under the morning light. She caught sight of a figure slipping up the west stairwell — a hooded cloak, similar to the one Kael had described from the night before.
They followed, but the figure was gone by the time they reached the top.
Kael turned to Cess. "Whoever they are, they're not just wandering. They have a purpose."
"And I think it's connected to the moon," she replied. Her voice was low, but the tension in it was unmistakable. "I don't know what they're doing yet, but I can feel it pulling stronger. If I'm right, it's building toward something big."
Sena glanced between them. "Big enough to ruin the summit?"
Cess didn't answer right away. Her eyes went to the high windows where sunlight spilled across the floor. "Big enough to change the tides."
—————
Far from the Hall
Down by the old breakwater, the hooded figure returned at midday. This time, they carried not a flute, but a small, lacquered chest bound with silver clasps. They knelt again, opening it just enough for the sea breeze to catch the scent of whatever was inside — a deep, briny musk laced with something metallic.
The water surged forward, slapping hard against the stones.
From beneath the surface, an immense shadow shifted, curling upon itself like a coiled chain. A sound rose from the deep — a low, guttural rumble, accompanied by the faint echo of scales grinding against one another.
The hooded figure smiled. The Bakunawa was listening.