The fire had burned low in Ramon's refuge. Sparks drifted into the fractured sky, where dead stars blinked faintly through the veil of smoke. The four sat in silence: Mateo steady, Jun restless, Liwayway grim, Ramon unmoving. Memory weighed on them like stone.
Jun broke first, groaning as he nursed his side. "Witness or not, I'm dying over here. My ribs feel like shattered glass. And your big sermon, warrior, didn't make them hurt less."
Ramon snorted. "Pain teaches."
"Yeah?" Jun muttered. "Then I've learned enough to write a book."
Mateo bled quietly beneath his torn sleeve. Liwayway's dawnlight dimmed. Ramon's scars held their silence. The night pressed close.
And then—leaves.
A whisper, impossible here in a barren quarter where no tree stood. A rustle, gentle as wind through hidden branches.
Jun sat up. "You hear that?"
Ramon's hand gripped his blade. Liwayway raised her staff. Mateo lifted his gaze.
From the ruins she came.
A woman, her skin aglow as if kissed by sun, golden-brown as polished stone. Black hair fell to her waist, woven with blossoms that shone faintly of their own light. She did not walk—she drifted. Moss spread where her bare feet touched. Flowers cracked the pavement. Even the neon veins of the walls flickered green as she passed.
Her presence was serenity itself.
Jun gaped. "Okay. That's… new."
Ramon's voice was low. "Spirit." Half warning, half reverence.
Liwayway bowed her head. "Diwata."
Her eyes, dark and deep as rivers, found them. Her voice was soft, yet weightier than thunder.
"You are wounded."
Mateo rose slowly. "And you are…?"
"I am Dalisay," she said. "Healer of what remains. Keeper of the green memory. When the Rupture tore the earth, I withdrew into hidden groves. Tonight, mercy leads me here. Sit. You need not suffer more than the world already demands."
Ramon frowned. "We have no coin. No relic to pay."
Her smile was gentle. "I do not heal for payment. Mercy cannot be bought."
They obeyed.
She came first to Jun. He winced. "Careful, I'm fragile."
Her hand brushed his ribs. Cool light flowed into him, like spring water over stone. Bruises faded, pain ebbed. Jun's eyes widened. "That… actually worked."
"You carry laughter," Dalisay whispered. "Do not lose it. Even folly has a place. Laughter shields hearts where armor fails."
For once, Jun had no reply.
She turned to Mateo. He tried to step back, but her hand pressed his bleeding shoulder. Light sank into the wound, leaving only a faint mark. His body eased—but more than flesh healed. The heaviness in his chest lifted, if only for a moment.
"Witness," she said. "You bear remembrance. But memory without gentleness turns truth into a blade that cuts all. Do not forget the seed."
Mateo bowed his head.
She touched Liwayway's brow next. The fire of dawn steadied within her.
"Dawn without humility becomes flame. Light must warm before it burns. Guard your pride, child of the sun."
Liwayway's lips tightened, but she did not resist.
At last, she faced Ramon.
His voice was iron. "Your magic cannot mend me."
Her hand touched the scar across his chest. His breath caught, his armor of pain loosening.
"Your scars are not chains," she said. "Do not let them bind your spirit more than the abyss ever did."
Ramon's eyes glistened. He bowed once, like a soldier saluting.
The fire flared, fed by no wood, only her presence. Blossoms pushed through cracks. Neon hum softened into harmony.
She sat upon a stone, hair flowing like water. "Hear me. The city is not only ruin. Roots sleep beneath. Life breathes where you do not see. You walk in ash, but even ash nourishes seed. Do not forget this. Endurance without renewal is only waiting for death."
Her gaze swept them. "You carry strength. You carry memory. You carry fire. Carry gentleness also—or you will become as empty as the machines that betrayed you. Steel alone will not save you. Balance will."
Mateo asked softly, "Why show yourself now?"
Her eyes, serene and ancient, held his. "Because He wills it. Judgment stands, yet mercy lingers. You are not only survivors. You are chosen to walk further than others dare. If you walk without compassion, you will fall."
Silence stretched.
Jun muttered, "I like her better than the warrior. No offense."
Ramon grunted, almost amused. Liwayway's gaze softened. Mateo's lips moved in silent prayer.
The blossoms in her hair shimmered once more. Then, like dawn dissolving, she faded. Flowers withered into sparks, rising like fireflies. Moss shrank back into cracks.
Her voice lingered: "Do not forget the seed."
And she was gone.
The fire dimmed, yet they sat changed. Wounds healed, burdens eased. Even Ramon seemed less iron, more flesh.
Mateo broke the silence. "Even here, He leaves signs."
Jun stretched. "Well, I'm not dead. That's a miracle already."
Liwayway's dawnlight steadied. "She is right. Without balance, light devours. I will remember."
Ramon touched his chest. His voice was quiet. "Her words cut deeper than any blade."
Mateo looked to the sparks fading into the sky. "Then let us carry them."
So the fellowship rose, healed in body, tempered in spirit. The ruins still loomed, neon veins throbbed, shadows whispered. Yet in their hearts lingered the scent of blossoms, the memory of gentleness.
The city was ash. But seeds still waited.
And the Witness walked on.