The wind howled high in the Cordillera mountains, but Lukas didn't feel the cold. Not anymore. The fire inside him burned hotter with each shard he claimed—hot enough to make snow hiss against his skin.
They had spent two days trekking toward the summit of Mt. Pulag, following the visions stirred by the second shard. With every step, the air grew thinner, the silence heavier. Even Amihan walked without speaking. Kalem muttered protective incantations, his breath clouding in the cold, but his eyes darted nervously toward the treeline.
At last, they reached a stone plateau near the summit. And there, half-buried in frost, stood a gate.
A circle of obsidian pillars formed its frame. Each one bore carvings in ancient baybayin—names lost to time. In the center, fire flickered in the air without fuel. It danced in a spiral, pulsing in time with the shard beneath Lukas's skin.
"This is it," Kalem said softly. "The Dreamfire Gate. The boundary between the waking world and the divine echoes."
Amihan stepped forward. "We go together."
But Lukas held out a hand. "No. I need to go alone."
Kalem frowned. "Are you sure?"
"I need answers," Lukas said. "And if Bathala is still out there… he'll be beyond this."
He stepped through the gate.
---
The world turned upside down.
Heat swallowed him. Light flared from all directions. When it faded, Lukas stood in a field of floating islands, suspended in golden sky. Rivers of flame and memory coiled beneath his feet. Here, time did not flow forward. It danced in circles.
And across from him stood a figure.
He looked like Lukas.
But older. Tired. Scarred.
"I've waited a long time," the figure said. "For you to arrive."
"Who are you?" Lukas asked.
"A version of you," the man said. "One who failed."
Lukas's mouth went dry. "Failed what?"
"To hold the flame. To resist the hunger. The shards... they don't just carry Bathala's power. They carry his will. And he was not always merciful."
"You're saying Bathala wasn't the god we think?"
"Bathala was light and fire—but also pride and fury. When the world forgot him, he shattered himself into the shards, hoping a worthy vessel would find him."
"And if no one is worthy?"
"Then the fire consumes the vessel. Like it did to me."
Lukas took a step back. "Then I'll break the shards. End this."
The man laughed—a bitter sound. "You can't. They are part of you now. The only way forward is to remember who Bathala truly was. Only then can you reshape what comes next."
A wind stirred. The sky darkened.
And then a second figure emerged from the flames.
A woman.
The same woman from the shore—the one who gave Lukas the first shard. But her body was whole now, glowing with energy.
"You were never meant to carry this burden alone," she said. "There are others. Chosen like you. But not all walk in the light."
"What do you mean?" Lukas asked.
"There is a traitor among the heirs," she said. "One who gathers shards not to restore balance—but to awaken the Devourer."
"Bakunawa," Lukas whispered.
"No," she said. "Something older. Something worse. Even Bakunawa fears it."
Lightning tore across the sky. The dreamfire cracked.
"You must wake now," the woman said urgently. "Find the third shard in the city of smoke—before he does."
"Who is he?" Lukas shouted.
But the fire swallowed him.
---
Lukas woke gasping, back on the plateau. Amihan and Kalem stared at him.
"What did you see?" Amihan asked.
Lukas stood slowly.
"I saw myself," he said. "And a warning. There's someone else out there—another heir."
Kalem narrowed his eyes. "A dark one?"
Lukas nodded. "And he's hunting the shards too."
Far below the mountain, in the distant city lights of Manila, a shadow moved across a rooftop.
And in his hand, a third shard pulsed—black as midnight, hungry as a storm.