Threads of a New Dawn

Judio ran his fingers along the edge of his bayong, its woven strands smooth and firm beneath his touch. The basket, crafted from the finest buntal fibers, was the work of his mother's hands—each weave a labor of care, each knot an unspoken prayer for his safety. Its warm ochre hue shimmered faintly under the morning sun, patterns of interwoven vines curling across its sides, as if whispering farewells of their own.

Inside, his belongings were neatly packed: spare sets of tunics and trousers, a handwoven blanket, a sealed packet of dried fruits and nuts, and a small carved wooden charm his mother had slipped inside without a word. A piece of home, to keep him from straying too far.

Lena, his mother, stood beside him, gently folding his last tunic into the bayong. Her hands—calloused from years of tending to both hearth and wounds—moved with steady care, her fingers smoothing the fabric with the tenderness only a mother could give.

"You're quiet, anak," she murmured, fastening the bayong's woven clasp.

Judio swallowed, forcing a smile. "Just… making sure I don't forget anything."

Lena's gaze softened. She knew better. "It's not me you should be worrying about." She reached up, brushing his bangs aside. "It's yourself."

Judio chuckled, but it lacked its usual mischief. His chest felt heavier than he had expected. His mother would be alone. No one to mend his torn tunics, no one to nag him about eating enough, no one to welcome him home at dusk.

"I can always—"

"You can't." Lena's voice was firm, yet warm. "You must go, Judio. You've always dreamed of seeing the world beyond Kabunlawan." She patted his cheek, her calloused fingers gentle. "Besides, it's just a year. I'll be here."

He exhaled, nodding. "I'll take care of myself. And my clothes."

She laughed, shaking her head. "That, I'll have to see to believe."

They both smiled, the weight in his chest lifting—if only a little.

Then, just as she tied the last knot securing his things, she slid a small wallet into the bayong's side pocket. Judio frowned slightly, reaching for it, but she caught his wrist with a knowing look.

"Extra coins," she said simply. "For when the academy food is too bland, or when you find yourself needing an extra pair of socks."

Judio's throat tightened. He knew she had been saving up for this long before he even received his acceptance notice. Even the bayong itself had been a silent testament to that.

A flash of memory surfaced—late nights when he would wake to find the soft glow of candlelight flickering from their small workroom. He had peeked inside, watching as his mother wove intricate patterns into the fibers, her brows furrowed in concentration. Unlike the simpler baskets they sold in the market, this one bore the elegance of olden designs, the kind only seen in the hands of high nobles.

Each twist and weave told a story, a lineage of craftsmanship passed down through time, now offered in a humble parting gift.

He had never noticed before, but as his fingers traced the finely woven straps, he found something—small, near the clasp. His name was woven delicately into the fibers, almost invisible unless one knew where to look.

Judio blinked rapidly, looking away. "I'll… I'll make sure it lasts," he murmured.

Lena's lips quirked. "You better."

The next day arrived swiftly, the town of Kabunlawan buzzing with energy. It was one of the busiest days of the year—market stalls overflowed with fresh produce and sizzling street food, their vendors calling out with boisterous enthusiasm.

"Hot bibingka! Fresh from the oven, still steaming!"

"Sweet mango tarts, the best in Kabunlawan! Get yours before they run out!"

"News of the Union! Latest happenings in the Confederation!"

Children laughed in the distance, chasing one another through the open plaza where stone pathways wove through shaded stalls. The scent of grilled meat, warm rice cakes, and tangy vinegar sauces mixed into the air, filling the town with the comforting aroma of home. Overhead, the sky hummed with a soft breeze, resonating against the intricate magical barriers that shielded Kabunlawan, threads of light barely visible if one looked closely.

Amidst the lively crowd, Judio found himself drawn toward a familiar sight—Nena and Amon, both accompanied by their families.

Nena's mother, a woman of quiet strength, greeted Lena first, the two exchanging warm words as only those who had endured loss could. Their conversation flowed easily, a mix of shared memories and reassurances for their children's futures.

On the other side, Amon's father, Leon, greeted his cousin Dasig, Nena's father. Despite their noble lineage having long since been cast aside, there remained an undeniable air of refinement between them—the way they stood, the measured cadence of their speech, the subtle yet commanding presence they exuded. It was as if the town itself stilled for a moment, recognizing something once lost yet not forgotten.

Townsfolk stole glances, whispering among themselves. Their attire—though practical—held a regal quality, too finely crafted for commoners, yet worn with humility.

Judio found himself standing beside Amon's mother, Tasi, a local of Kabunlawan. She smiled at him warmly. "How has Amon been in school?"

Judio smirked, glancing at his friend. "He's doing well. Too well, actually."

Amon scoffed. "Don't listen to him. If anyone has the time to actually study, it's Judio."

Nena giggled in the background, enjoying their usual banter.

Tasi chuckled. "Well, I'm glad to hear it." She patted Amon's shoulder. "Make sure you keep an eye on your friends, alright?"

Amon huffed but nodded nonetheless.

As the air around them settled, a quiet understanding passed between them all. This would be their last day before departure, before their paths would diverge—even if only for a year.

Judio exhaled softly.

"One year,"

It didn't sound long, but standing there, among the people who had shaped his world, it felt like a lifetime.

Nena's mother, Marya, stood beside Lena, her beauty timeless despite the lines of hardship etched upon her face. She, too, had survived the fall of Barangay Saliksik, her posture still bearing the quiet resilience of those who had seen devastation and endured. Her dark eyes, still bright with warmth, softened as they landed on Judio.

"My, my… You're growing into a fine young man, Judio."

She tilted her head, scrutinizing his features with a knowing smile. "You look more and more like your father."

Lena's lips curved with pride. "Of course he does. He inherited the best from his Tatay." Her fingers absently brushed the edge of Judio's tunic, as if straightening an invisible crease.

Marya chuckled, nudging her friend playfully. "Oh, don't be so modest. That boy got some of his looks from you, too." She winked at Judio. "And I should know—I had a Dove for a mother, after all."

The two women shared a laugh, the sound rich with the depth of their friendship. Their bond had been forged in shared loss, strengthened by years of hardship and survival. They were more than friends—they were family in all but name.

Beside them, Nena's father, Dasig, stood with his arms crossed, his refined features giving him the presence of a once-great nobleman. Though stripped of his former status, the regal air about him never faded, carried in the way he held himself, the way his dark gaze weighed and measured everything around him.

Opposite him stood Leon, Amon's father, whose resemblance to Dasig was unmistakable—cousins, bound by privilege in the past, now bound by exile. Though their fine robes had been traded for simpler garments, their movements still carried a practiced grace, their subtle nods to one another speaking of a shared understanding too deep for words.

Tasi, Amon's mother, observed them all with an amused smile, her warm brown eyes glinting with mischief. She had always been the more lighthearted one, the warmth to her husband's quiet solemnity.

As the families exchanged greetings, Judio's gaze met Amon's. His friend stood a little off to the side, arms crossed, idly scanning the plaza with the air of someone pretending not to care.

Judio shifted his bayong and smirked. "Amon."

Amon scoffed, glancing at him with a half-hearted smirk. "Took you long enough. Thought you'd get lost in your books before the Academy even started."

Judio chuckled. "At least I'll be prepared."

Tasi, overhearing, chuckled at their banter. "He may pretend otherwise, but my son has been restless all morning."

Amon scowled. "Nanay."

Tasi winked at Judio. "And what about you, hm? Ready for the road ahead?"

Judio exhaled, gripping the strap of his bayong tighter. "As ready as I'll ever be."

From the side, Nena laughed softly, the sound like bells against the wind. "You both sound like you're going to war, not school."

Amon smirked, nudging Judio's shoulder. "For us commoners, it is a battlefield."

Judio chuckled, shaking his head. But there was truth in Amon's words. The Union Academy in Sandigsal was where commoners from all three kingdoms were sent, their fates bound to the threads of merit, not birth. Only those with great backing or noble ties could choose where they would train, but for Judio, Nena, and Amon, the path had been chosen for them.

Leon, Amon's father, crossed his arms, watching them with a thoughtful gaze. "I managed to scrape enough from the trade to enroll Amon as a middle commoner student. Not much, but it'll give him access to better materials."

Amon turned to Judio with a smirk. "That means I'll get to share whatever study resources they give us. You better keep up."

Nena crossed her arms with a playful scoff. "Hmph. I may still be a common student, but my father had enough connections to secure me the same study materials." She lifted her chin proudly. "Local merchants trust our family, and they decided to sponsor me."

Amon groaned. "So you'll have an advantage over me after all."

Nena winked. "Of course."

Judio, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. "Even I had a sponsor."

Amon and Nena turned to him, blinking in surprise.

Judio hesitated before continuing. "But I don't know who they are. Only that they go by the alias Fili."

The name hung in the air, unfamiliar and enigmatic.

Nena frowned. "No other details? Nothing?"

Judio shook his head. "Nothing. Just the name. Fili."

Amon rubbed his chin. "Sounds like something out of a history book."

Nena hummed thoughtfully. "Still… you have someone watching over you."

Judio nodded. "Yeah. I guess I do."

For a moment, they simply stood there, the three of them, bound not by blood but by something just as strong.

"Then let's make the most of it," Amon said, offering a rare, genuine smile.

Judio and Nena exchanged glances before nodding.

The path ahead was uncertain, but at least they wouldn't walk it alone.

The group is still absorbing the weight of their conversation. The revelation of Judio's mysterious sponsor cast a brief shadow of curiosity over their gathering, but the night was still young, and there were memories yet to be made.

With the scent of grilled meat and freshly steamed rice cakes lingering in the air, their families strolled through the bustling food stalls, savoring what might be their last shared meal for some time. Laughter rippled through the streets as they indulged in skewered kwek-kwek, its crispy golden shell giving way to the soft quail egg inside, dipped generously in spiced vinegar.

Nena grinned as she held up a steaming bamboo cup of taho, the warm silken tofu and caramelized arnibal swaying beneath the weight of sago pearls. "Judio, try some!" she urged, nudging the cup toward him.

Judio shook his head with a smirk, reaching instead for a paper tray of siomai. "I'm good. But if Amon wants some, I won't stop him."

Amon scoffed. "I don't need your permission." He grabbed a dumpling, dunked it into a sauce of calamansi and chili, and popped it into his mouth with satisfaction.

As the evening stretched on, their families settled at a long wooden table near an inihaw stall, the scent of charred pork belly and marinated fish sizzling over hot coals filling the air. The crackle of firewood accompanied their cheerful conversations, their plates quickly filling with grilled meats, sticky rice, and bowls of tangy ensalada.

Between bites, old tales resurfaced—stories of Saliksik's past, of their parents' youth, and of mischievous antics from their childhood. Dasig and Leon recounted their boyhood exploits, while Tasi and Marya exchanged amused glances, sharing knowing smiles as if recalling the same stories from a different lens.

Judio stole a glance at his mother. Lena was smiling, though her gaze lingered a little longer on him, memorizing every detail of her son before his departure. He knew she was proud, yet he also knew the ache of an empty home awaited her.

As the sky deepened into shades of indigo and violet, the group found themselves drawn to the bright lights of the nearby perya. The festival air was alive with the chorus of laughter and the rhythmic calls of game vendors.

"One bronze, tatlong tira! Hit the cans, win a prize!"

"Step right up! Test your strength and ring the bell!"

Children weaved between their legs, clutching stuffed toys won from fair games. Colorful banderitas swayed overhead, their fluttering dance illuminated by glowing paper lanterns.

Judio, Nena, and Amon took turns at the games—Amon showing off his aim by knocking down wooden pins, Nena surprising them all with her precision at the ring toss, and Judio, with his usual mix of luck and mischief, securing a prize with a lucky dart throw.

As the golden hues of dusk embraced Kabunlawan, Judio, Amon, and Nena stood in a quiet corner of the settlement, the weight of their upcoming departure settling upon them.

They had spent the last few days preparing, gathering supplies, and absorbing every piece of advice their elders had to offer. But before setting off, they had one last thing to do—exchange gifts.

Amon, ever practical, handed Judio a small, engraved dagger, its handle wrapped in woven rattan. "For protection," he said gruffly, avoiding eye contact. "Or, you know, just in case you need to carve something."

Judio grinned, running a finger over the careful etchings. "Thanks, Amon. This is solid."

Nena, in contrast, had prepared something far more delicate—a woven armband made from celestial fiber she had painstakingly braided herself. It shimmered faintly under the light, its patterns intricate and beautiful. "It's for luck," she said softly, fastening it around Judio's wrist. "And to remind you that you're never alone."

Judio hesitated for a moment before reaching into his own satchel. He pulled out two small, wooden charms—each carved into the shape of a guardian bird, wings spread wide. "I made these," he admitted, offering one to each of them. "They're watchers. They'll keep you safe, no matter where you go."

Amon snatched his from Judio's hand, pretending to scrutinize the carving. "Not bad. Maybe I'll hang it on my pack." Nena simply smiled, holding the token close before tucking it into her sash.

Just as the weight of parting threatened to settle too deeply, their parents called them over, revealing one final surprise—a bali-og necklace for each of them.

Judio's eyes widened at the sight. The bali-og was a sacred garment, a finely woven corded necklace adorned with a central charm of polished jade and sunstone. Its strands, made from enchanted hemp and imbued with protective sigils, carried a faint warmth—an ever-present reminder of the hands that had prepared it with care.

"The bali-og is more than just an ornament," Nena's father explained. "It shields against harmful energies, wards off curses, and even amplifies your spirit during times of hardship. Keep it close, and let it remind you of home."

Lena, overwhelmed, gently traced the intricate weave of Judio's necklace, her heart swelling with gratitude. She knew Amon and Nena's parents had limited means, yet they had thought of Judio, ensuring he, too, received this precious gift.

Judio swallowed thickly before bowing deeply. "Thank you," he whispered.

With their gifts exchanged and the bali-og resting against their chests, the three of them stood a little taller, a little braver, as they prepared to take their first step beyond Kabunlawan's borders—toward a future shaped by both the burdens and blessings of their past.

As the night wore on, their laughter echoed through the festival grounds, mingling with the distant melody of a lone flutist playing a hauntingly beautiful tune under the lantern-lit trees.

Then, all too soon, it was time for goodbyes.

One by one, the families exchanged parting words, embracing tightly, whispering reminders to write, to take care, to not forget home.

Lena held Judio a second longer, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Be brave, anak. But not reckless."

"I will, Nanay," Judio promised, his voice quieter than before.

With final waves and lingering glances, they parted ways, each family retreating to their homes.

Tomorrow would be a new beginning.

Judio tightened his grip on his bayong, his fingers brushing over its woven name.

One year.

He exhaled.

No turning back now.