The imposing figure walked towards the middle of the ice field, crushing frozen rocks and branches with his enormous feet.
After a while, the crushed things slowly restored themselves to their original state.
From afar, one could see that the frozen field is a circular patch in the middle of a bamboo forest.
The walking figure continued towards the center.
He passed his hands across blades of grass made shiny by the ice coating them. They crumbled to his touch but like the first ones, they rebuilt themselves after he turned his back.
The middle is like a lotus flower. Petals made of ice radiated outward.
On closer inspection, one could make the conclusion that it wasn't a flower after all but an explosion but instead of fire, it was an explosion of ice.
On the very center is the remnant of a shattered bamboo where the afterimage of a small jewel hung suspended in the air.
"Alab, I miss you, daughter. Where are you now? Come back to us," cried the big man.
A gentle finger was laid on his shoulders.
"Do not do this to yourself, Apolaki," said a woman of ember. The ground where she stood smoked as the ice melted with her touch.
"Do you know the biggest joke the universe played on us?"
Apolaki gestured in the air and the surroundings changed. The ice was no more and the place stood as pristine as it was in the beginning of time.
He recreated the scene just before the great destruction. People are now walking around them, assisting creatures coming out of some split open bamboos.
"What joke?" asked the woman.
"Being immortal didn't give us the ability to deal with pain," he said with grimness that frightened the woman.
"I don't think this will help you in any way," she gestured in the air too and the sequence being played before them paused. It was at the moment that someone who looked like a very important person came into view.
Apolaki gathered his will and turned into a living flame. He purposefully strode near that figure and winded to strike.
"Apolaki! Stop this madness! We are needed elsewhere," the woman banished the phantom scene and the ice returned.
Apolaki glared at him but said nothing.
Silently, they walked away from the scene of one of the biggest tragedies that befell the realm of the Gods.
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A large screen filled the room. In it are two circles marked in Baybayin. They are overlapped, forming the figure eight.
"It is nearly time for the synchronicity," Buan said to the person staring at the screen.
"It has been almost a thousand years, said Bulalayaw. Her hand moved in front of the screen and her hand left colorful contrails in the air. The screen changed and showed several smaller circles scattered around the two overlapped ones.
"I hope to see our brothers and sisters again," said Buan.
"I tried entering the golden doors but they are locked from the other side. The rainbow's end kept moving around," said Bulalayaw.
"The architect already received our instructions. I hope he can unlock the doors in time or else the other side would gain tremendous advantage when our worlds completely overlap," said Buan.
"Let us retire to the Grand Hall brother. I am sure Apolaki and the others are already there. We must prepare to descend once more and finish this accursed war," Bulalayaw beckoned and as usual, her gestures left colorful afterimages in the air.
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Bathala was sprawled in his chair and was negligently holding a cup in his hand. He was waiting for the Maningas, beings of light that are his sons and daughters.
"It seems to me that punctuality is not one of the strong suits of the Gods," said Hunyango, Bathala's personal servant.
"Time is a funny concept here in the Golden Realm," Bathala answered.
"You should have followed the example of humans and made at least a way to tell time. I would give a lot for a watch right now," Hunyango complained.
"You are wearing one right now," Bathala pointed out and Hunyango snatched his hand away from the table.
"This one is practically just a bracelet, you know that. It moves whichever way it chooses and I only wear it because it amuses me," Hunyango said.
"Stop pilfering from the human realm," said Bathala.
"I picked this up from the forgotten shores before they get washed on the river of time. I don't steal," Hunyango said indignantly.
"If you say so," Bathala agreed tolerantly.
"Say, boss, why did we have to wait this long?" Hunyango decided to change the subject.
"You already know the answer," Bathala replied.
"No, not for your kids to arrive. The war. Why did it have to take this long?" Hunyango rephrased his question.
"You know we were partially locked out, Hunyango. The realms are separate due in large part to the way time flows on our side. And because the human realm got blown away in that explosion," Bathala explained.
"We have the golden doors. Can't we just, you know, do your magic and go through them," he waved his fingers in a theatrical manner.
"What am I, a carnival magician?" Bathala said exasperatedly.
"Aren't you all-powerful and such? Just wave your hands and open them. Then we can go get the others and simply win the war," Hunyango said overbearingly.
"And I waited for almost a thousand years to do that, I suppose and only thought about it now that you mentioned it," Bathala said in a level tone.
"I wondered about that. And here I thought you were smart," Hunyango buffed his fingernails on his garment.
He suddenly found himself in a room behind the conference hall.
"Heeyyy! No need to be touchy! Hunyango bellowed.
He opened the door and went back to his previous seat.
He found himself in the room behind the hall again.
"I will behave, I promise. I will not point out your stupidity again…"
He was in the room again.
".....I will keep quiet.," he said in a small voice as he went back.
Bathala controlled his temper and decided against turning Hunyango into a reptile. This whole Earth Realm disaster is indeed a black mark against his rule. He never corrected the notion that he is omnipotent because it helps to keep the others in check but most of them know omnipotence is just a human construct. More of an idealized concept of their perceived potential than a real attribute.
It galled him to admit that this ongoing war is equally dependent on the primitive beings on the other realm.
If only one of their numbers did not defect to the other side, the numbers would still have been equal.
He would be more than happy to maintain a stalemate.
Such is the power of the random.
He thought about the remaining Maharlikans to whom their messages were entrusted. To offset the void created by the missing God, these inferior beings would have to create another God to restore the balance.
He wondered if they could, given the fragile nature that humans have. The Virtue Monoliths are being chipped away and the conceptual locks are almost undone. The bearers of the mark of the Flame of Creation and the Eight Maharlikans are their only hope now.
They will be battered by the most violent of storms and crushed by the weight of the world's indifference. Bathala sent his thoughts to these brave souls.
That is the only thing he could do right now.