March 3, 2020 — Somewhere on the outskirts of Tarlac City
The air outside still carried the scent of smoke and gunpowder. Though far from the city center, the remnants of martial law could still be felt in the silence, the unease that crept along every shadow. But for now, inside the safehouse, it was quiet.
Eloisa sat near the window, watching the moonlight spill onto the floorboards. Her legs were tucked close, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. She had been silent for what felt like hours.
Geneva leaned against the opposite wall. Her breaths were shallow, her hands occasionally trembling as though her body hadn't caught up with time. She had grown used to this aftereffect—her body aging and dragging slowly back to its rightful state—but tonight it ached deeper than usual.
Eloisa finally spoke. "You said we'd go back for Athena."
Geneva didn't respond at once. Instead, she pushed away from the wall and moved to the old table where she had left the maps and notes. She scanned them, pretending to read, but she had heard Eloisa's question too clearly.
"I did," Geneva said.
"Then why haven't we?" Eloisa asked, her voice strained with worry.
"Because if we contact her now, we might lose her."
Eloisa turned sharply. "What do you mean?"
Geneva exhaled slowly. "Sometimes, telling you what you need to hear is more important than telling you the whole truth. When I said we'd go back, I meant it. But not now. Not with this much heat on us. If we get too close, they might use her against you."
"But she's, she's all I have left."
Geneva sat across from her. "And that's why I had to lie. To get you moving. You can't help her if you're still stuck in that hospital bed. And if I hadn't gotten you out when I did—"
"You think they would've killed me?"
Geneva didn't answer.
The silence was enough.
Eloisa wiped her face with her sleeve. "I still feel like I'm dreaming."
"You'll feel that for a while," Geneva said. "But you're not. You're here. And we need to move again."
Eloisa blinked. "To where?"
"Your house," Geneva replied. "Your cat, Dana. We can't leave her behind."
Eloisa's eyes widened. "Dana… I almost forgot."
"She's still there. I checked earlier—no one's guarding the place. That's strange, considering what you've been through. But we'll use that to our advantage."
"No soldiers?" Eloisa asked, suspicious.
"None," Geneva confirmed. "Not one. Which makes this easier… and more complicated."
Eloisa stood, shaky but determined. "Then let's go."
—
San Vicente, Tarlac — 1:34 AM
The streets of San Vicente were mostly empty. Only the occasional flash of distant military patrols cut through the darkness. The checkpoint routes had shifted, but Geneva knew how to navigate around them.
They moved on foot now, avoiding light, cutting through narrow alleys and silent backroads. When Eloisa's childhood home came into view, her steps slowed.
Everything looked exactly the same. The garden still had her mother's old clay pots, untouched. The porch light flickered weakly. It was quiet. Too quiet.
Geneva paused beside her. "You go in first. I'll keep watch."
Eloisa nodded and unlocked the door with the spare key hidden beneath the step. As it creaked open, a flood of memories washed over her, summers, laughter, Dana weaving between her legs, the warmth of simpler days.
Inside, the house was dark but intact. She whispered, "Dana?"
A soft meow answered.
Eloisa dropped to her knees as a small, black tabby cat padded into the hallway. Dana tilted her head, tail high, and rubbed against Eloisa's leg before letting out another impatient chirp.
Tears spilled before Eloisa even realized she was crying. "Oh, Dana... I thought I'd never see you again."
She scooped the cat into her arms. Dana's purring filled the room like a lifeline. In that moment, everything else, soldiers, lightning, even death, faded into the background.
Geneva stepped inside cautiously, her eyes sweeping every corner. "We have to go."
Eloisa nodded, wiping her face. Dana nestled into her hoodie as they slipped back into the night.
—
Later that night — back at the safehouse
Dana curled at the foot of Eloisa's mattress, her green eyes watching both women intently. She seemed to sense something had changed.
Geneva sat on the floor again, lost in thought. Her hands rested on her knees, her gaze distant. In the quiet, her mind drifted again to Gerald, her dog, her companion through too many time-manipulated missions.
His memory clung to her like old scars. She rarely spoke of him, but she carried the weight of his loss every time she slowed the world. It wasn't just pain or fatigue that followed her use of chronokinesis, it was grief.
She didn't need to explain it to Eloisa. Not now.
"You're tired," Eloisa said softly.
"I'm always tired," Geneva replied with a tired smile.
A silence stretched between them until Eloisa asked, "What are we supposed to do now?"
Before Geneva could answer, a pressure filled the room. Like a wave of air thickening, condensing.
Eloisa clutched Dana instinctively. Geneva straightened, her eyes scanning the ceiling, the walls, the corners.
And then the voice came, not through the door, not through sound, but within their minds.
"Marco Agustin is in danger."
The voice was clear, female, calm, but echoing with something that wasn't entirely human.
Eloisa gasped. "What—what was that?!"
Geneva closed her eyes, concentrating. "Kayoko."
"Who?"
"She's another one of us. A clairvoyant. I've heard her before. But this—this isn't a normal connection."
Eloisa swallowed. "She's in my head…"
Geneva opened her eyes. "She's reaching out, because it's urgent."
Eloisa clutched Dana tighter. "Who's Marco?"
"Someone we need to find," Geneva said. "He's not far from here."
"He's like us?"
"I don't know yet. But he's important. And he's in danger."
As they gathered their things, Dana jumped onto Eloisa's shoulder, balanced gracefully like she had done a hundred times before.
"Looks like she's coming with us," Geneva said.
Eloisa smiled faintly. "She always does."
As they stepped into the night once more, neither of them noticed the flicker of motion in the woods behind the safehouse. A presence, cloaked in silence, watching from the dark.
Not government. Not fully human. But something else.
Something that had let them retrieve Dana.
Something that was now following their every step