by AA Lee
“You have been holding the torch all night. Why don’t you take a break and sleep?” Kisig said as Tala left her room.
She yawned involuntarily, making Kisig frown. She also thought it odd that she felt sleepy while holding the torch. That had never happened before.
She looked at the flame, still burning as brightly as before. She didn’t understand what could be wrong. Has the torch sucked in too much power for it to handle?
Chapter 20
Kisig
Tala went back to her room as though she had been caught doing something bad. Kisig was baffled. The girl was sleepy even though she was holding the torch. That meant its power wasn’t as strong as before. Four hundred years before, the girl had held the torch for days without sleeping and had even skipped her meals.
He pondered all the instances the torch wasn’t as strong as before since Tala returned. It took some time to change iron into gold when Tala tried to convince the villagers that she was strong. It was also slow when it sucked the souls in, compared to when it burned people four hundred years before, but maybe that was because souls and physical bodies were different. Also, aside from Tala’s weariness, the flame was considerably smaller when Tala was not holding the torch, compared to four hundred years before.
What has changed? Kenda… This time, Kenda was inside the torch. The girl was so powerful. Could the girl be restricting the torch’s power from the inside? But Tala had said she didn’t feel or remember anything while she was inside. As Kisig paced in the living room, the hushed conversation of the remaining magicians seemed louder. He wanted to concentrate. He needed answers.
He was about to leave the house to seek peace and quiet when he happened to glance into Tala’s room. The girl hadn’t closed the door. She was sitting cross-legged in the center of the room, still holding the torch. Something caught his eyes. Even at that distance, his eyes focused on the long, straight hair tied to the torch’s handle. Kenda’s hair! He had forgotten about it.
He briskly walked to the kitchen and ran into Pilly, who was carrying a huge basket full of chopped sugarcane. He held the basket straight when it almost toppled to the side.
“I’m going to look around the village now that it looks peaceful,” he said. “Where’s Datu Goni?”
“I don’t know. He disappeared after breakfast.” Pilly seemed to have been crying. She settled her basket on the floor. “Here, take some while you look around. And… give some to the girl.” She handed him four sugarcane sticks cut a foot long.
He accepted the sugarcane and passed by Tala’s room. He handed two sticks to Tala then carried the other two outside. While walking, he chewed the sugarcane, sucked the sweet juice, and spat the husk out.
The village was unusually quiet. He’d expected the villagers to be out and about, perhaps tending to their vegetable gardens, but the village looked empty. If not for the smoke rising from some of the huts, he would have thought the village abandoned. He approached the nearest hut, noting the wooden stairs so old that he wondered how they could still be intact. The door creaked open, and an old woman came into view. Her bones prominent, she looked frail and old, as though she hadn’t eaten for days. She looked at him absently.
“Hi! I’m Kisig. I-I live at Datu Goni’s house.”
The woman continued staring at him blankly.
“So… I just want to know where Priestess Pasi’s house is.”
The old woman made a guttural sound and spat phlegm onto the ancient stairs. Kisig had to remind himself not to walk away. Her bony arm moved upward to point at the fifth hut to his left. Kisig bowed and walked away, willing himself not to run while the woman was watching.
Priestess Pasi’s door was closed. He wondered if the priestess had gone to visit other people who might need her help. He was about to walk back when he thought he heard voices. They were so low that Kisig thought he had imagined them at first.
“Hello?” Kisig jumped back as the door opened abruptly.
Datu Goni motioned him to come closer as he slowly closed the door. Kisig took the stairs quickly and saw all four priestesses sitting in the middle of the one-room hut. A cooking pot was balanced over three stones in a cooking hearth made of soil in the corner.
“Tala refused to undo the curse.” Datu Goni patted the floor next to him, motioning Kisig to sit down. “At this rate, I’m afraid she hasn’t learned her lesson from the past.”
“I guess she just needs time.” Kisig sat on the floor cross-legged. “No one is ready to die.”
“But the longer we wait, the higher the chance that she’ll fail. Kenda’s sacrifice would be for nothing then.”
Kisig had no counterargument. Datu Goni was right, and if Kenda and Tala died, the villages would be safe when the torch had no master. Pasi stood and walked to the hearth, where she opened the lid of the pot and prepared cups.
“I came here to ask Priestess Pasi to talk to Priestess Mutya about what happened four hundred years ago, but we don’t need to do that since you’re here.” Datu Goni accepted a cup from Priestess Pasi and poured some coffee powder and sugar into it. “How many magicians and priestesses did it take for you to defeat Tala?”
“No.” Kisig clenched his fists.
He didn’t want to do the wrong thing again. This was exactly what they had done four hundred years before. They also plotted behind Tala’s back. He didn’t want to betray her again.
“Kenda warned me to never betray Tala.”
Datu Goni sighed in frustration. “Any idea to save the village, then?”
“She is weaker this time. It seemed like something was preventing the torch from using its full power.”
“That means that we don’t need as much magic this time.”
“I’m sorry, Datu Goni. I don’t think you’re looking at this the right way. Instead of betraying Tala, why don’t we help her instead?”
“How?”
“I have a plan, but I don’t know if it will work.”
Chapter 21
Tala
Datu Goni’s house smelled of sweet sugarcane, and the living room was alive with crunching from five magicians facing a plate of it. Eight boys sat around Datu Goni’s son, Romeo. Romeo put a sugarcane slice in the wooden juicer. Aside from its use as a sugar substitute, the juice was a popular drink of choice of the villagers after fermentation.
Romeo squeezed the juicer, spraying the juice into the half-filled bowl. Boboy closed his eyes instinctively as the juice splashed toward his face. He laughed, touched his face, and brought his finger to his mouth. Seeming satisfied with the juice that had come out, Romeo discarded the husk into the basket beside him. The boys dove into it, prompting Romeo to stop.
“Hey! You’ve already have enough,” he said.
The cat joined the boys and started scattering the husks.
“Lucy, stop!” Boboy smoothed the cat’s hair.
As if it understood, the cat stopped digging in the basket. The boys put the husks back in, knowing full well that Romeo wouldn’t throw a new one if they didn’t behave.
“Where’s Kisig?” Tala asked no one in particular.
“He went out to look around the village,” Boboy answered.
He and his brothers didn’t look intimidated by the blazing torch any longer.
Romeo arched his eyebrows. “How do you know that?”
“I heard him. I’m sure you would have also heard him if you weren’t blabbering.” Romeo glared at him, but Boboy did not back away. He looked eager to get more sugarcane husks.
Tala went outside, seeking quiet to think or perhaps just to look around the village like Kisig. Datu Goni’s house had been so loud that morning that her thoughts were constantly interrupted by laughter or children fighting. She absently followed a trail of sugarcane husks.
Datu Goni’s words from the previous night still bothered her. Tala yawned and stretched her free hand. Despite the peace and fresh air, her exhaustion frustrated her. A thought suddenly came to mind. If the torch ha
d become weaker, perhaps she could command it like any other object. But the torch was anything but ordinary. It was a living thing, created by hatred and a curse. When she first held it, Tala hadn’t made an effort to see its past. It simply showed her. The problem was that Tala knew the torch withheld information. It had shown her how to change iron into gold, how to fight other magicians, and how to intimidate enemies but not the full story of how it had been made. She’d had only a glimpse of its creation just before she locked herself inside it four hundred years before, and she still didn’t have a full grasp of how it had come into being.
The only way to defeat it is to know it. High Priestess Mutya’s words rang in her head. Then she closed her eyes and let her power flow to the torch. She explored every inch of it, wanting to know more and be closer. When she first held it, the torch had chosen what to show her. This time, she wanted to be the one to choose. The torch opened itself to her, letting her see its memories. Priestesses danced in a circle, lights coming out of their hands and connecting to the wood that Tala knew was now the torch. When they finally stopped dancing, the torch ignited, and the bearer was chosen. But Tala knew the creation wasn’t finished. Tala gripped the torch more tightly, forcing it to show its deepest secrets.
Tala’s vision shifted. The bearer of the torch was forced to change iron into gold like a slave. She protested but was no match for the datu’s magicians and priestesses. The bearer watched helplessly as the riches she made were used to exploit others. She tried to kill herself, but healers with magical powers brought her back before she reached the underworld. Something was different about the torch back then. It seemed as though it didn’t have a mind of its own. Then the bearer started singing. The song was ancient, words unknown to Tala, yet fear gripped her heart because she understood the meaning. It was a song of hatred, of suffering, and of a promise of revenge.
A sudden darkness filled her vision. She gripped the torch, wanting to know more, but only darkness came to her. Frustrated, she opened her eyes to see Datu Goni and Kisig walking back toward the house. Tala turned her back.
“Tala, wait!” Kisig’s footsteps became louder. “I thought you preferred to stay in, so I didn’t ask you to walk with me.”
“I’m fine. No need to stay with me all the time. I said I could control the torch this time.” But as soon as she said it, she could feel the torch’s magic resisting her own. She tried to keep a straight face.
“Fine. But stop acting like you’re the only one having a hard time. This wasn’t easy for us either.”
“Really? Lucky you. You can have any girl you like when I’m gone.” Too late to stop herself, Tala just said aloud what she felt. Immediately hating herself, she opened her mouth to take it back but couldn’t think of the best way to do it.
“Come on. We’re in a crisis. I don’t have time to think about that.”
“Fine. Leave the thinking to me. Just worry about yourself.” Tala couldn’t help expressing her anger since even Kisig had given up on her. She walked to her bedroom briskly, not bothering to look at the people in the living room, and slammed her door.
There, she slumped on the floor, feeling defeated and angry. When she died, the torch would win. She felt the urge to let go of it and just sleep, but she didn’t want to go back on her word. She had declared that she would control the torch, and she would not quit until she succeeded.
A knock at the door demanded her attention. She wanted to tell the person to go away, but that would be embarrassing if it was Pilly.
“Yes?”
“It’s Kisig.”
“Go away.”
“Come on. It’s lunchtime. Don’t make Pilly prepare food for you later when you get hungry.”
He had a point. They had no servants, and Pilly was tired enough from taking care of her children and working on the farm. She walked to the door, expecting to join the others, but when she opened it, Kisig held a tray of food.
“You don’t want to scare the kids with your torch.”
“They’re used to it now.” Tala accepted the tray as Kisig gave her a gentle push and walked in. “What do you think you are doing?” As he had never been alone in her room with her, her anxiousness peaked.
Kisig casually motioned her to put down the tray. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Just sit down.” He walked to the door and came back with the high priestess staff. “Sit down,” he said again as he closed the door.
She sat cross-legged, not knowing whether to eat or tell him to leave first. “Well, I’m sitting. What do you want to talk about?”
“Eat first,” he commanded.
Tala shook her head. He was no longer the village datu. If she kicked him out now, no one would punish her.
“I would be more comfortable if I’m alone,” she said.
To her relief, Kisig walked away. But he didn’t leave her alone completely. He stood by the door, his back to her, his hand on the door, perhaps to make sure that she wouldn’t lock him out. She inhaled deeply, and the smell of grilled fish made her stomach rumble. She’d thought she wasn’t hungry because she had sugarcane just a while before. She ate, still holding the torch with her hand and leaning forward, in a hurry to fill her stomach. When she straightened, Kisig was already beside her. She chastised herself and silently cursed the torch for not sensing him. She continued eating and forced herself not to mind him. When she at last finished, she pushed the tray aside.
“Okay, let’s talk.” The food seemed to have stretched her patience.
“You don’t look well.” He sat facing her and looked closely at her face. “It’s as if the torch isn’t doing a good job of restoring your energy even after you hold it.”
“I’m completely fine. No need to worry about me.”
Kisig moved closer and held her free hand. “You’re not. There’s nothing wrong with being not strong for a moment. You may be powerful, but you’re still human. Why don’t you take a rest?”
“B-but…” She bit her lip. She didn’t want to stutter, but his warm hands sent a wave of emotions through her, hard to control.
“Fine, you can hold the torch if you want. Just close your eyes for a moment. Lean against the wall.” Kisig’s voice was low and hypnotic, as if he had suddenly acquired a power to calm her down.
Surprisingly, she did as he said. Closing her eyes, she embraced the darkness and felt the tension in her muscles loosen. When Kisig’s hand left hers, she felt the urge to open her eyes and feel his skin again.
“I’m here. I’m not going away,” he said in the same hypnotizing voice. Tala let her shoulders relax.
“Now open your eyes,” Kisig said in a serious tone. He’d changed, as though she had just dreamed his tenderness moments before.
“But you said I should rest,” Tala protested, but she opened her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Just below her hand, the high priestesses’ locks of hair from the staff were now roughly tied onto the torch. The staff looked bare without them. “Dear spirits, what have you done?”
“Trying to do what Kenda might have done. Now, please call High Priestess Mutya. She must redo her spell.”
“What do you mean?” The heat of anger rose in Tala’s chest as Kisig had touched the torch without her permission.
“Kenda did something to her hair when she tied it there. That’s why the torch is weaker. High Priestess Mutya should do the same so that you can control the torch.”
The torch stirred in protest. She had so many questions, and the most urgent was that if that worked, why hadn’t the torch protested when Kisig tied those locks of hair? Kisig had a point, though. The torch was indeed weaker. Instead of dwelling in her thoughts, Tala quickly looked for High Priestess Mutya’s lock of hair before the calm that Kisig brought faded again.
“This one.” He pointed. “I made sure to remember before transferring it.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. She closed her eyes and called High Priestess Mutya.<
br />
“What have you done?” High Priestess Mutya held the staff with an unbelieving expression.
“High Priestess, you need to redo the curse. I believe that Kenda made the torch’s power weaker with her hair.”
High Priestess Mutya shook her head. “Impossible.”
“But you made it possible for her to call you back from the afterlife. Please think. There must be a way to change your spell.”
“I spent my remaining life to create that spell. Kenda, on the other hand, had never studied nor created a single spell. It’s true that the high priestesses’ hairs still contained a fraction of their powers, even after death, but now that I’m in the underworld, I can’t cast a spell anymore. I need to be alive to do that. I need to…”
“Be in someone else’s body who is alive? Right?” Tala completed the thought for her. “Someone who is powerful?”
“Yes, and you and Kenda are the only priestesses powerful enough to cast a spell that strong. If I possess your body, your soul will depart. You could die, and I might not be able to hold the torch, because your power isn’t only connected to your body but your soul as well.”
Think! There must be a way. Tala sensed someone at the door, disrupting her concentration. When she looked up, it was Boboy. “The kid did it!” she blurted.
High Priestess Mutya and Kisig both looked at Boboy.
“Come here, Boboy,” she said.
The kid entered with hesitant steps. His eyes darted between Tala and the glowing green soul of High Priestess Mutya.
“When the evil soul entered your body, how did you feel?” Tala asked.
“Like… like… I was falling asleep?” He glanced up at High Priestess Mutya.
“Okay,” Kisig said in a friendly voice. He kneeled in front of the boy. “Don’t worry about her. She’s good. You already know that she helped catch those bad guys, right?”
