Shadow in the sky

Vincent Dela Torre was now on my radar. The guy screamed privilege, with layers of security and power that made him virtually untouchable for someone like me. I knew I'd have to get creative if I wanted a conversation with him, let alone answers. Listing him as a person of interest was the easy part. Planning my next move? That was going to take some finesse.

The night air was heavy as I left the bar and headed home, the city lights flickering above me. Manila always had a way of feeling alive, no matter the hour there are cars honking, street vendors shouting, even the faint hum of karaoke drifting through the alleys. But tonight, something felt... off.

As I rounded a corner, I saw something in the sky, a shadow gliding silently against the backdrop of the moon. My stomach dropped. The shape wasn't right. It wasn't a bird or even a plane. It was a half-human figure, its wings spread wide, claws reflecting the faint light.

Fear gripped me, but my curiosity was stronger. I followed the creature, staying in the shadows. The streets in this part of town were eerily quiet, no CCTVs or streetlights. It was almost like the thing had chosen this area deliberately.

Eventually, the creature dove sharply, disappearing behind a row of abandoned buildings. I quickened my pace, my heart hammering in my chest. When I reached the area, I saw deep scratches on the walls and ground, evidence of its landing. The air smelled damp and metallic, like blood and rust.

Then, I saw it.

The other half.

It was lying there, a torso, legs, and lower body severed cleanly at the waist, yet disturbingly intact. My breath caught in my throat. My grandmother's voice echoed in my mind, recounting an old story.

She once told me about a beautiful woman, the pride of her hometown. Kind and pure, she was beloved by all until pregnant women started dying, their bellies torn open, their unborn children taken. The husbands of the victims sought vengeance and discovered the culprit one night: the woman herself, flying away from her severed lower half to feast. They called her a Manananggal. If the creature couldn't reconnect with its lower half before sunrise, it would burn away into ash. The key to stopping it was simple just pour salt or ash onto the severed half to keep them apart.

The memory snapped me back to reality. I had to act quickly. My eyes darted around, and I spotted a 7-Eleven down the block. I sprinted there, grabbed a bag of salt, and tossed some cash at the counter without waiting for change.

When I returned to the spot, heart racing and salt in hand, the lower half was gone.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, scanning the area. Had the Manananggal returned to claim its body? Or had someone something moved it?

The silence was deafening. I felt like I was being watched, every shadow suddenly alive with menace. My grip tightened on the salt, though I knew it was useless now.

For the first time in years, I felt truly out of my depth.

My mind raced as I stood in the eerie silence, clutching the bag of salt like it was a lifeline. I had been so sure of my plan, so sure that I could stop the Manananggal from reuniting with its lower half. Now, the empty space where it had been lying mocked me.

I scanned the area again, taking in every detail I could under the dim moonlight. The abandoned buildings around me were in varying states of decay and walls crumbling, windows shattered, rusted metal hanging precariously from their frames. Graffiti covered the walls, some crude tags, others cryptic symbols I didn't recognize. The air was heavy, humid, and thick with the faint, nauseating scent of decay.

The scratches on the ground and walls were deep, deliberate. Whatever this creature was, it was strong and vicious. The marks reminded me of claw marks from wild animals I'd seen in forensics photos but these were larger, more purposeful, like they were made by something intelligent.

The other half. My grandmother's voice continued to echo in my mind: "They must reconnect with their body before sunrise, or they'll burn away into ash. Pour salt on the severed half to trap them."

It was a foolproof plan in the stories. But this wasn't a story. This was real.

The rational part of me wanted to believe this was a hallucination, that I was imagining things after a long day of stress and chasing shadows. But the scratches, the faint metallic smell in the air, the torso I had seen moments ago and it was all too real.

I crouched down, inspecting the ground where the lower half had been. The earth was disturbed, the marks suggesting it had been dragged away rather than reconnected. My stomach churned. If the Manananggal hadn't come back for it, what had?

The legends I'd grown up with didn't prepare me for this. In those stories, the Manananggal was always isolated, a lone predator haunting small villages or remote barrios. But now, in the heart of Manila, amidst the sprawling chaos of urban life, the rules seemed to be different.

My grandmother had hinted at it once. "They're scattered, Damien. The Manananggal aren't just one creature and they're a kind. A cursed lineage that thrives in secrecy, hiding in plain sight. In the provinces, they live among the people, hunting when the opportunity arises. In the cities... they adapt. They blend into the shadows of modern life, preying on those who won't be missed."

I shivered, remembering the stories she told about groups of them operating like a pack, hunting together to evade detection. The idea of more than one Manananggal in this city was almost too much to comprehend.

A sound snapped me out of my thoughts, a faint rustling, like the whisper of wings.

I whipped my head around, my pulse quickening. The darkness pressed in on me, the shadows stretching and shifting like living things. My breathing grew shallow as I tried to pinpoint the source of the noise.

Then, I saw it.

High above, a figure hovered near the roofline of a crumbling building. Its wings were massive, leathery, and silent as they flapped in the still air. The silhouette of its upper body was unmistakable the grotesque half-human form with elongated arms and sharp claws. Its face was obscured, but I could feel its gaze burning into me.

It wasn't alone.

Another shadow joined it, then another. Three Manananggal hovered in the air, their wings eerily synchronized. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized the depth of the danger I was in.

The one in the center swooped lower, just enough for me to make out its features. Its face was contorted, a twisted combination of human and beast. Its eyes glowed faintly, like embers in a dying fire, and its mouth twisted into a grin, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

This wasn't just a random encounter. They knew I was here.

Instinct took over, and I bolted, clutching the salt to my chest as I ran. The shadows around me seemed to come alive, each alley and corner a potential hiding spot for more of them. My mind raced as I tried to remember the details of the stories.

"Salt and garlic repel them," my grandmother had said. "But fire is their true enemy. If you can burn them, you can destroy them."

The problem was, I had none of those things with me except the salt, and I wasn't sure it would be enough.

As I sprinted through the dark streets, I tried to think of a plan. The abandoned area was a maze of dead ends and collapsing buildings. I needed to get out into the open, somewhere with light and people. But the Manananggal were fast, their wings making them predators built for the hunt.

I turned a corner, my legs burning with the effort, and found myself back at the spot where I'd first seen the lower half. My chest heaved as I stopped, looking around wildly for any sign of movement.

Then I saw it, a trail of blood leading away from the area, smeared and erratic, like something had dragged the body in a hurry.

A low growl rumbled from the shadows, and I froze.

One of them had landed nearby. Its wings folded against its back as it stepped closer, its claws clicking against the concrete. The glow of its eyes pierced the darkness, locking onto me.

I clenched the bag of salt tighter, my mind racing. If this was how I went out, at least I'd give it a fight.

But then, the creature paused. It tilted its head, sniffing the air like it was trying to decide if I was worth the trouble.

A sound broke the tense silence, the distant hum of an approaching vehicle. Headlights illuminated the street, and the creature hissed, retreating into the shadows.

I didn't wait to see if it would return. I ran toward the light, toward safety, my mind reeling with questions and a growing sense of dread.

The Manananggal were real, and I was far from ready to face them.

High above the crumbling rooftops of Manila's abandoned district, the Manananggal gathered under the cover of night. Their grotesque forms hovered in a circle, their wings creating a soft, ominous hum. Beneath them, hidden in the shadows of an ancient structure long forgotten by the city, stood their leader. A monstrous figure cloaked in darkness, his voice was a guttural snarl that carried authority. "Report," he commanded.

The leader among the Manananggal stepped forward, its claws glinting in the faint moonlight. "The Mulawin tribes have suffered heavy losses," it hissed. "Our assault on the Northern Tribe crippled their defenses. The sacramentum possessor escaped to another tribe, but their numbers grow weaker with each attack. The balance will shatter soon." The leader's expression darkened further, a malevolent grin forming as the figure continued. "But there is a problem. A human stumbled too close. He investigated where one of us hunted tonight."

The leader growled, his wings spreading wide as his voice echoed through the gathering. "The surface world must remain blind to our movements. If they suspect anything, they could interfere with our plans. And the Shadow World? They cannot know of our efforts to unseat their fragile balance. They believe we are isolated pests, not architects of their collapse." He paused, his claws raking the air as he seethed. "Find this human and silence him. Ensure he cannot reveal our presence."

The Manananggal screeched in agreement, their wings beating harder as they prepared to disperse into the night. Unbeknownst to them, Damien's retreat to the real world had kept him far from their grasp. For now.