Whispers Of Shadows
"Where is this driver going?" a woman's raspy voice whispered, close behind my ear.
My eyes widened. The taxi should only contain the driver and me. I gripped the strap of my bag, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I could feel a presence beside me, cold and unsettling – a familiar sensation, a ghost. It was a feeling I hadn't experienced since I was a child, before receiving the bracelet from the albularyo, back when spirits were a constant, terrifying presence in my life.
I pretended not to notice, focusing on the passing scenery, but the presence lingered, a knot of unease in the pit of my stomach. "Where are we?" the voice whispered again, tinged with confusion.
Fear warred with a strange sense of curiosity. Feigning a need to check my bag, I subtly turned towards the presence. A woman, or what was left of her, hovered in the seat beside me. A tattered white dress, stained crimson, clung to her spectral form. Long, dark hair obscured most of her face, but I could see enough. Her arms were a patchwork of deep wounds, the flesh torn open, revealing glimpses of bone beneath. Her hands ended in long, sharp claws that curled and uncurled, as if itching to tear into something.
I quickly averted my gaze, pretending to rummage through my bag, my hand trembling as I found my earbuds. I slipped them on, the music a flimsy shield against the growing dread.
I managed to endure the suffocating tension for a few minutes, the silence punctuated only by the faint, unsettling sounds emanating from the ghost - a soft, rasping breath, a rustle of fabric that shouldn't be there. Then, a scream ripped through the air, so piercing, so filled with rage, that it shattered the music in my ears. My body jerked, my blood turning to ice.
Even though I was still three kilometers away from Lola Tala's house, I couldn't take it anymore. "Stop here!" I shouted to the driver, fumbling for my wallet. "I'll get out."
As the driver pulled over and I paid him, I risked another glance at the ghost. As he turned the car around, heading back the way we came, I saw her face more clearly in the fading light. Her mouth was a gaping wound, a horrific gash that stretched from ear to ear. One eye socket was empty, a dark, hollow abyss. The other eye burned with a furious, crimson light, fixed on the retreating taxi.
As I started walking, a sickening crunch echoed behind me, followed by the screech of metal on metal. I turned to see the taxi had veered off the road and slammed into a massive tree, the front end crumpled like paper. The driver, dazed but alive, stumbled out of the wreckage. And then, he saw her.
The ghost was now fully visible, her form solidifying, her rage focused solely on him. She shrieked again, a sound that seemed to vibrate the very air, and the taxi's remaining windows exploded into a shower of glass. The driver's hands flew to his ears, blood trickling between his fingers. He collapsed to his knees, his eyes wide with terror.
"Sally… please…" he stammered, his voice choked with blood and desperation. "I'm sorry! I… I loved you… but you kept pushing me… I lost control…"
The ghost, seemingly deaf to his pleas, lunged. Her claws flashed in the fading light, tearing into him with savage fury.
I scrambled back, scrambling behind a large tree, my body trembling uncontrollably. The driver's screams were cut short, replaced by the sickening sound of tearing flesh. It took ten agonizing minutes for the sounds of violence to cease, leaving a heavy, blood-soaked silence in their wake.
I stayed crouched behind the large tree, the tall grass swaying gently in the cool breeze, providing just enough cover to keep me hidden. My heart hammered in my chest, every sound amplified by the eerie stillness of the night. Then, cutting through the silence, a deep, resonant voice echoed across the surroundings, sending a fresh wave of chills down my spine.
"Shiwarau ito, tsuki no kagayaki,
Kage wa maho, tasukeru koto.
Shi no kinou ni wa, tsuru wo tomo,
Ito wo motome, yami no shikagoe.
Yami no iro to ito wo kasanete,
Jorogumo yo, yami no oku ni."
It was a chant in Japanese—a language I didn't know. Yet, as the words echoed, a strange thing happened. It was like a dam had burst in my mind. To my shock, the meaning unraveled as though whispered directly into my thoughts:
"Silent web, beneath the moon's glow,
Lurks the shadow, soft and low.
By the bond of flesh and fate,
I call upon the silk-bound gate.
By the silken thread I weave,
The weaver's song, the soul deceive.
From darkness deep and silk she weaves,
Rise, Jorogumo, from the misty leaves."
Before I could process what was happening, the ground trembled faintly. Two towering red pillars, connected by horizontal beams and topped with a crossbeam, emerged from the earth like a mirage. It was a torii gate, its form both majestic and otherworldly. The gate shimmered briefly before dissolving into glowing motes of light, revealing something else entirely—a massive set of sliding fusuma doors, crafted from wood and paper.
The intricate design on the doors was mesmerizing: sakura petals intertwined with sharp, blade-like branches, all framing the ominous image of a giant spider etched at the center. The spider's legs seemed to reach out, its ruby-red eyes gleaming with malice.
The fusuma slid open with a whispering sound, revealing a massive, grotesque spider. Its black, chitinous body glistened under the pale moonlight, and in four of its limbs, it gripped gleaming swords. The other four supported its towering frame, which seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy. But before I could recoil in terror, the spider's body shimmered and twisted.
Light rippled across its form, transforming it into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. She had long, flowing black hair adorned with elegant Japanese ornaments, and her black kimono was patterned with delicate pink sakura blossoms. She held two swords in her hands, the steel glinting dangerously. The aura around her radiated both grace and lethal precision.
Without hesitation, the woman lunged at the ghost, her twin blades cutting through the air with a deadly hum. The ghost snarled and raised its monstrous claws to parry the attack. Sparks flew as the weapons clashed, the force of their battle shaking the ground beneath them. Out of nowhere, thick, silken threads erupted from the earth, tangling around the ghost's limbs and immobilizing it.
The ghost shrieked, thrashing wildly, but the threads held firm. In one swift, fluid motion, the woman spun and brought her swords down, slicing the ghost into countless pieces. Its form disintegrated into black, smoky wisps before vanishing completely.
The woman sheathed her swords with a sharp click and turned toward the shadows. Her voice was soft but commanding. "Master, there is someone hiding nearby. What should we do with them?"
My blood froze. They knew. Despite the thick grass and the shadows of the tree, they had noticed me. I pressed my back against the tree, my mind racing with panic.
From the darkness, a man stepped forward. His presence was striking, almost unreal. He was tall, with silky black hair that cascaded past his shoulders, framing a face as sharp as a blade. His long lashes and piercing black eyes gave him an air of quiet power. He wore a simple black shirt and navy-blue tattered jeans, paired with pristine white shoes. Despite their casual appearance, his clothes looked expensive, almost regal.
"Leave him," the man said in flawless Japanese, his tone indifferent. "I can sense a faint energy, similar to ki, coming from him. But I'm not here for that. The ghost was my only target."
Relief washed over me as his words reached my ears, but a new realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. They were speaking Japanese, yet I understood them perfectly—not as if it were being translated, but as if the meaning itself was flowing directly into my mind. What is happening to me?
The man sighed, his expression betraying a hint of disappointment. "I came here when I heard the ghost's scream. I thought it might be a yokai, but it was just a corrupted yurei—a lost soul beyond salvation."
Yurei? Yokai? The unfamiliar terms swirled in my mind, but almost instinctively, I understood. Yurei—a ghost bound by unresolved emotions, a restless spirit. And yokai... a spirit? A demon? More powerful than a yurei? The knowledge slipped into my thoughts like an uninvited guest, leaving me confused yet strangely enlightened.
The man turned toward the woman. "You've done well. Return now, Jorōgumo."
The fusuma doors reappeared behind her, glowing faintly. The woman bowed, her form shimmering again as she transformed back into the giant spider. The creature crawled through the open doors, disappearing into the void as the doors faded into nothingness.
With a practiced motion, the man pulled out a paper charm from his pocket. Whispering an incantation, he tossed the charm into the air. Instantly, dozens of tiny paper dolls emerged, swirling around him in a graceful dance. The dolls wrapped themselves around his body, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished, leaving no trace behind.
I sat frozen, my mind racing with questions. Who was this man? What was a Jorōgumo? And how was I able to understand everything they said?
The night had grown eerily quiet once more, but the encounter had left me shaken to my core. Whatever had just happened, it was far beyond my understanding. But one thing was clear—I had crossed into a world of darkness, one I could not escape.
"Is that monster gone?" My eyes widened as a deep voice suddenly spoke from behind me, closer this time.
"I think he's already gone," came a high-pitched response, clearly from a smaller creature. I didn't know what to do—should I look around, or stay hidden? But after what I'd just witnessed, I knew I couldn't avoid facing whatever was behind me, even though fear prickled at my spine.
As I slowly turned, my breath caught in my throat. A towering figure—about nine feet tall—loomed, with skin as dark as the night and long, curly hair. He held a massive tobacco cigarette in one hand, and perched on his shoulder was a tiny figure: a small man dressed in dark green pajamas and a long-sleeved shirt, topped with a red, cone-shaped cap. My mind struggled to make sense of them. Then it clicked. These were creatures from the stories my mother used to tell - a Kapre and a Duwende.
I instinctively took a step back, but the large tree I had been hiding behind was now at my back, making movement impossible. Both creatures turned to face me, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"Wait… you can see us?" the Duwende asked, sounding genuinely shocked. The Kapre mirrored the same disbelief, staring at me as though I shouldn't exist in their realm. Despite my fear, a flicker of something else sparked within me. These weren't the malevolent spirits I'd encountered before. These felt... different. More mischievous than menacing. And if they were visible to me now, did that mean my powers were growing stronger?
Their shock soon gave way to confusion, and a nervous chuckle escaped my lips. Their stunned expressions were almost comical. Seeing my reaction, the two of them started to chuckle along with me. We laughed together for a while, a strange, tension-releasing moment amidst the night's horrors.
"So, human… what are you doing here?" The Kapre's deep voice finally broke the silence.
I cleared my throat, my earlier fear receding slightly, replaced by a cautious trust. A part of me, the part that was beginning to understand the strange new reality I was in, felt that they weren't a threat. "I'm here to visit one of my distant relatives—I need some help."
"I see, but why are you this far from the nearest human settlement?" The Kapre's expression turned more concerned.
"It's because of that ghost I saw earlier. I was in a taxi when I spotted her, so I asked to be dropped off here instead of my original destination." I explained, surprised by how easily the words flowed, as if some part of me was getting used to these strange encounters.
"Ah, you encountered that ghost…" The Kapre nodded, and the tiny Duwende added, "That scary spirit almost gave me a heart attack." The little man pretended to clutch his chest dramatically, making me chuckle once more, despite the lingering unease.
"By the way, I'm Misham Lakan. How about the two of you?" I introduced myself, needing to break the tension, and perhaps, foolishly, hoping to find some allies in this strange new world.
The Kapre grinned, "I'm Bantogon, which means great or heroic. This little guy here is Ginumo."
"Nice to meet you, Bantogon and Ginumo," I smiled, appreciating their gentle, non-threatening presence. A thought struck me. Could they be the 'help' Dayang Kaluwalhatian spoke of?
"Nice to meet you too, Misham," they both replied in unison.
"But may we know where you're headed?" The Kapre's tone became more serious, as if sensing something troubling beneath my words.
"I'm going to Barangay Puray," I answered hesitantly, testing their reaction.
At this, both creatures exchanged worried glances. Ginumo's small face contorted into a frown. "I don't think you should go there, Misham." The Kapre nodded in agreement, his expression darkening.
"Why do you say that?" I asked, confusion growing. My earlier hope that they might be allies was quickly fading.
Ginumo hopped down from Bantogon's shoulder and, with surprising grace, glided through the air, landing gently on my own shoulder. "Let me tell you about that place," he said, his voice growing serious. "For the past seven years, that area has been changing little by little. We're not the only ones who've noticed—there are other spirits and faeries lingering in those mountains, and they've all sensed something dark."
Ginumo continued, his voice barely a whisper, "It started when a group of cultists infiltrated Barangay Puray. They've been secretly sacrificing humans to powerful demons. Worse still, they've got witches, sorcerers, and even Aswangs in their ranks. They cast a spell on the entire barangay so that anyone who dies will be forgotten—no reports, no witnesses. And," he paused, his voice dropping to a near-inaudible level, "they managed to revive a powerful demon… a being that should never have been here in the first place."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My mind struggled to reconcile this information with the Lola Tala I knew, or thought I knew. But a part of me, the part that had witnessed the horrors of the past few days, knew they weren't lying.
"A demon from another realm, you mean?" I asked, my mind spinning, trying to make sense of it all.
The Kapre nodded solemnly. "Yes, a demon from beyond our shores… Zagan."
"Zagan?!" My eyes widened. I knew this demon—he was one of the chief demons from European medieval Christian demonology, infamous for spreading discord and manipulating minds. How could a demon from so far away be here?
"Are you okay, Misham?" Ginumo's voice, filled with concern, brought me back to the present.
"Actually, no," I admitted, my worry for my grandmother growing. "That demon is powerful… a chief demon." And if Lola Tala was involved...
"We understand where you're coming from," the Kapre added gravely. "Zagan doesn't belong here, and we have no knowledge of him. It's troubling to us, too."
"What should I do? My Lola Tala is there!" I exclaimed, panic rising in my chest. Was she in danger? Or was she truly one of them?
The two spirits exchanged another glance. "Did you say Tala? Is this the healer, Lola Tala?" Ginumo asked, his eyes widening in shock.
"Yes, she is," I responded, my voice growing more urgent.
"Then that's even more reason you shouldn't go there," Ginumo said, his voice sharp.
"But why?!" I demanded, confusion mounting.
The Duwende sighed, "Lola Tala is the one who helped bring that cult into the area. She's involved in the revival of that demon, along with other dark creatures they intend to awaken. Their plans are unclear, but you should stay far away."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This wasn't just some story—the danger was real, and my own grandmother was at the heart of it. Doubt gnawed at me. Could they be mistaken?
Suddenly, I heard footsteps—multiple people approaching. My heart leaped into my throat. Turning toward the sound, I saw a group of figures emerging from the darkness. As they drew closer, I recognized Lola Tala at the lead, five other shadowy figures flanking her. A chill deeper than the night air settled upon me.
I looked back to where the taxi had crashed earlier, but to my shock, there was no sign of the accident. No wreckage. No blood. Nothing. It was as if it had never happened. What was going on?
"Please be careful, Misham," I heard Ginumo's voice, soft but urgent, a whisper in my ear.
A faint rustle, like dry leaves skittering across the ground, was the only indication that they had been there, and they were gone.
"Is that you, Misham?" A familiar voice called out from the approaching group.
I turned, startled, to see Lola Tala—a smile on her lips, though something about it felt unsettling, off. She motioned toward me with a hand that looked far too frail to wield the power I now suspected she possessed. "Why are you standing out here, apo?"
The term of endearment, once a comfort, now sent a shiver down my spine. The five figures flanking her remained silent, their faces obscured by the shadows. They were an unsettling presence, radiating a subtle aura of menace that made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
I froze, unsure of what to say. My mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "I… uh…" I stammered, cursing my inability to think clearly. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to get as far away from her as possible. But where would I go?
Lola Tala chuckled softly, a sound that lacked any real warmth. "I see. But what brings you here, to this remote place?"
"Well, I took a taxi to visit you," I explained, trying to keep my voice steady, "but the driver had an emergency and dropped me off here instead." I gestured vaguely towards the road, avoiding mentioning the crash that had vanished.
She smiled gently, but her eyes… they seemed more calculating now, as if she were searching for any hint of deception in my words. "Oh, I see. Well, come along then. We were just on our way back. We have a van parked nearby. You can join us so we can reach the barangay easily, and you can rest at my house."
This felt wrong. Every fiber of my being screamed that it was a trap. But the area was too remote, and there was no public transportation. Staying here, alone in the darkness after all I'd witnessed, was not an option. And a sliver of hope, or perhaps it was denial, still clung to the belief that the Kapre and Duwende were wrong about her. Maybe there was an explanation. Maybe I could still find a way to help her, to save her from whatever darkness had taken hold.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nodded. "Okay." The word felt heavy on my tongue, a reluctant agreement to a bargain I already feared I would regret.