The dwende smirked as the weight of the trial settled over us. Its mischievous eyes seemed to glimmer with anticipation, knowing we were close to the brink of either success or failure. The riddle echoed in my mind like a relentless drumbeat: "Itinanim ko dito, tumubo doon" it means "I planted it here, but it grows there."
We had three chances, and the first attempt rested on Jose's shoulders.
Jose stepped forward, rolling his shoulders like a fighter psyching himself up. His expression was resolute, but I could see the strain in his clenched jaw. "Fine," he muttered. "I've got this."
The dwende watched him with an amused smirk. "Very well. Speak your answer."
Jose crossed his arms, his tone firm. "A tree. You plant a seed here, and it grows somewhere else in time. That has to be it."
The dwende froze for a moment, its expression neutral. Then it burst out laughing, the sound high-pitched and grating. "Wrong!" it declared gleefully, clapping its tiny hands. "A valiant effort, but incorrect nonetheless. Two chances remain!"
"Damn it," Jose hissed under his breath, stepping back with a frustrated scowl
My heart pounded as I tried to think through the riddle logically. What could grow somewhere else after being planted? I considered metaphors, symbols, even magic but every thought spiraled into uncertainty. Finally, the pressure became unbearable.
"I'll try," I said, stepping forward.
The dwende leaned in slightly, its beady eyes fixed on me. "And what is your answer, mortal?"
"A river," I blurted, feeling a pang of desperation. "You dig a path here, and the water flows and grows downstream. That has to be it, right?"
The dwende tilted its head, then shook it slowly, savoring the moment. "Wrong again! Oh, this is delightful!" It laughed, the sound grating against my already frayed nerves. "One chance remains. Use it wisely, or your trial ends here!"
I stepped back, my chest tightening as despair began to creep in. "I thought for sure that was it..."
Emilia stood quietly, her gaze fixed on the ground. She didn't look frustrated or panicked like Jose and I. Instead, she seemed... thoughtful. Her fingers tapped against the hilt of her sword rhythmically as if working through a mental puzzle.
"Emilia?" I asked, my voice tentative.
"Give me a second," she murmured, her brow furrowing deeper. "It's something simple. Something we're overthinking. It planted here... and grows there..."
The dwende yawned dramatically. "Tick-tock, little mortals. The ruins are waiting."
Suddenly, Emilia's head snapped up, her eyes widening. "I've got it!"
Jose and I turned to her, our expressions hopeful but skeptical. "What is it?" Jose asked.
She stepped forward, confidence radiating from her every movement. "A flashlight," she said firmly.
The dwende froze, its smirk dropping into an expression of genuine surprise. For a moment, it was completely still. Then, a slow, approving smile spread across its face.
"Well, well," it said, clapping its hands softly. "The lady is correct. A flashlight it is! You plant the light here, and it grows there. Clever girl."
Relief and triumph surged through us as Emilia turned back to us, a grin breaking across her face. "Told you I had it."
Jose let out a whoop of excitement, clapping her on the back. "You're a genius, Emilia!"
"I could kiss you right now," I said, grinning.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't push your luck, Jiro."
The dwende snapped its fingers, and a small vial of white liquid appeared on its pedestal. Emilia picked it up, cradling it carefully in her hands.
As the vial was claimed, the runes on the walls flared brightly before dimming again. The dwende flicked its fingers once more, and a low rumble shook the room. Slowly, a hidden door slid open, revealing a dark, narrow passageway.
"Your path continues," the dwende said. Its tone was less mocking now, almost reverent. "But beware, this is only the beginning."
We exchanged a glance, the triumph of solving the riddle tempered by the ominous warning.
"Let's go," Emilia said, leading the way into the passage.
The corridor was cold and damp, the air heavy with the scent of moss and decay. As we moved deeper, torches lining the walls flared to life one by one, their flames flickering like spectral sentinels.
"This doesn't feel welcoming," Jose muttered, his voice low.
"It's not meant to be," Emilia replied. "It's more like... a warning."
The further we walked, the heavier the air seemed to become. A faint, ghostly whisper echoed through the passage, sending chills down my spine.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, gripping my sword tightly.
"Yeah," Jose said, his eyes scanning the shadows. "We're not alone."
The whispers grew louder, unintelligible but distinctly human or at least, they had been human once. Suddenly, a cold breeze swept through the corridor, extinguishing the torches behind us and plunging the passage into darkness.
"Great," Jose muttered. "Just what we needed."
Ahead of us, faint shapes began to materialize. Ghostly figures, their translucent forms glowing faintly in the dark. They wore tattered robes, their faces obscured by shadow.
"Multo," Emilia whispered, her voice tense. "Spirits of the past."
The ghosts hovered silently, their eyeless faces fixed on us. One raised a skeletal hand, pointing further down the passage.
"I don't think they want us here," I said, swallowing hard.
"No," Emilia replied. "I think they're trying to guide us. Or test us again."
With no other choice, we pressed forward, the ghosts silently drifting beside us like an ethereal escort.
As we moved deeper into the corridor, the flickering torchlight cast long, distorted shadows on the damp stone walls. The faint whispers of the multo—ghostly spirits of the past—grew louder, echoing like distant cries in a vast chasm. Their translucent forms shimmered just beyond the edge of the light, their expressions obscured but undeniably watchful.
Jose, who had been unusually quiet since we encountered the spirits, suddenly stopped. He glanced at the nearest multo, his jaw tightening.
"Do you know what these are?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
"They're ghosts, right?" I replied, my grip on my weapon tightening. "Spirits trapped here or something?"
"They're more than just spirits," Jose said, his gaze fixed on one of the multo. It hovered silently, its eyeless face turned toward him. "In some traditions, multo aren't just echoes of the dead—they're bound by regret, unfinished business, or deep hatred. They don't just haunt places. They guard them."
"Guard?" Emilia asked, her tone skeptical but curious.
Jose nodded. "If they're here, it means this place isn't just dangerous. It's sacred or cursed. Either way, they're not going to let us through easily."
One of the multo drifted closer, its spectral form glowing faintly. Jose didn't flinch, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. "Some stories say multo can see into your heart. They'll test you, not with strength or skill, but with your intentions. If they think you're unworthy…" He trailed off, his expression darkening.
"What happens if they think we're unworthy?" Emilia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jose's eyes narrowed as he met the multo's eyeless gaze. "You don't want to know."
The air around us grew colder, the whispers intensifying into a low, mournful wail. One of the spirits raised a skeletal hand, pointing further down the passage.
"What do you think they're guarding?" I asked, my voice unsteady.
"Whatever it is," Jose said, his tone grim, "it's powerful enough to keep them here. And if we're not careful, they'll make sure we stay here too."
The ominous weight of his words hung over us as we continued forward, the multo drifting silently beside us like an ever-present warning.
As we moved deeper into the dimly lit corridor, the oppressive silence was broken only by the faint whispers of the multo. Their ethereal forms flickered like candlelight, but their presence was unsettling. Around us, skeletal remains lay scattered on the cold stone floor. Ancient bolos blade weapons used by warriors long past rested among the bones, their rusted edges a haunting reminder of battles long forgotten.
I couldn't shake the feeling that the multo were trying to warn us. They moved in deliberate, almost pleading patterns, their gestures pointing ahead and their voices rising in urgency. But their language was incomprehensible, leaving us only with the heavy sense that something dreadful lay ahead.
As we neared a fork in the path, the pain in my forehead returned, sharper than ever. It wasn't just pain it was a warning. My vision blurred briefly, and an image flashed in my mind: Emilia turning on us, her eyes devoid of color.
I stopped in my tracks and turned to Jose, urgency in my voice. "Something's wrong. Emilia's going to..."
Before I could finish, Emilia let out a sharp gasp. Her entire body went rigid, and when she turned to face us, her eyes were no longer the vibrant blue I knew—they were completely white, glowing faintly in the dim light. Her expression was blank, devoid of the warmth and determination she always carried.