Even before the sun was fully up, Cana could hear the chaos erupting in their tiny living room. She had just stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to her skin, when the screeching of her two younger siblings hit her like a physical blow.
"Enough!" She snapped, her patience fraying at the edges. "It’s barely morning and you two sound like a crowded marketplace. Give it a rest!"
Jared and Nathaly froze, eyes wide. They had assumed she’d already left for work.
"But—!" Nathaly piped up, her voice dropping into a practiced, pitiful whine. "Jared put his stinky socks right on top of my school uniforms!"
"I did not!" Jared fired back.
"Jared!" Cana narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping an octave. The boy’s protest died in his throat, and he shot his sister a silent, venomous glare.
"I put them in the hamper," he muttered. "Nathaly’s just being dramatic. Her uniforms were already in there anyway."
Cana sighed, rubbing her temples. "All this drama over a pair of socks? The whole neighborhood can hear you. Fine—where are they? I’ll boil them myself, then I’ll make you both some coffee."
The siblings shared a look of pure terror. They knew their sister didn't make idle threats.
"I’ve got it! I’m washing them right now!" Jared scrambled toward the laundry bin, snatched the offending socks, and sprinted toward the backyard as if his life depended on it.
Cana turned her gaze to Nathaly, who was struggling to hide a smirk. "And you—if you don't want your clothes touching his, keep them in your room until laundry day. Understood?"
"Yes," the girl chirped, quickly making herself scarce.
"Is Lella still asleep?" Cana asked, referring to their youngest.
"She’s awake, but she ran over to Grandma's house earlier."
"Probably to escape the screaming match you two started. Honestly!" Cana turned toward the kitchen to heat some water, but a thought struck her. She looked back at Nathaly with a frown. "Wait. Why is Jared doing laundry? Don't you guys have school?"
"It’s a holiday. Labor Day."
Cana paused, her eyes drifting to the faded calendar tacked to the wall. May 1st. Between the endless shifts and the mountain of bills, the days had started to blur into one long, exhausting cycle.
"Do you have work today?" Nathaly asked softly.
Cana let out a dry, tired laugh. "Of course. Holidays don't exist when you're broke."
It was a cold truth. She worked until her bones ached, yet the money only ever seemed to cover the "barely enough".
An hour later, Cana was squeezed into a standing-room-only bus. If she had waited for a less crowded one, she wouldn't have made it to work until tomorrow. Between the suffocating heat and the gridlocked traffic, she arrived at the convenience store five minutes late and drenched in sweat.
"Thank goodness you're here, Sis!" Alyssa, her co-worker and closest friend, gasped as she juggled a line of impatient customers. "I’m losing my mind. I almost ran late myself—the traffic out there is insane."
"Next in line, please!" Cana called out, stepping behind the second register. She shot Alyssa a sympathetic look. "Traffic is the only thing you can count on in the Philippines. We’re the ones who always have to adjust."
Alyssa pouted for a second before flashing a professional smile at a customer. "You said it. Those of us at the bottom are always the ones doing the adjusting.
The afternoon faded into a strange, bruised purple evening. Even though the sun was still technically up, the sky grew heavy. Outside, a sudden, violent wind began to whip plastic bags and scraps of paper into the air.
"Is there a storm coming?" Cana asked their manager, Lulu, who was also staring out the window.
"Nothing on the news," Lulu replied. "They said it would be sunny all week."
"PAGASA probably got it wrong again," Alyssa grumbled. "They announce 'no classes' when it’s burning hot, then stay silent when the floods are up to our knees."
Lulu laughed softly. "That’s life, girls. It's the weather-weather thing. No matter how many tools they have, they can't predict everything. Anyway, start closing up. It looks like a nasty one. Take the trash out now before the rain hits."
"Yes, Ma'am!"
"I'll handle the heavy bags," Cana whispered to Alyssa. "You stay inside and wipe the counters."
She didn't say it out loud, but Cana knew Alyssa's secret—she was pregnant. Alyssa was a working student and the sole provider for her family; she was terrified of losing her job. Alyssa didn't know that Cana had already figured it out, but Cana wasn't about to let her friend lift heavy trash in this wind.
As Cana stepped outside with the bags, she froze.
The wind hit her skin, but it wasn't cold. It was a thick, oppressive heat—an unnatural humidity that made her skin crawl. The sky is dark, so why does it feel like I'm standing next to an oven?
"Why do I feel like this?" she whispered.
She had learned never to ignore her gut. Usually, this feeling meant someone she loved was in danger. Was it her siblings? Her grandmother? She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer. Please, not them.
She dropped the trash in the bin but didn't go back inside. She looked up at the churning clouds. She felt... watched. As if eyes were burning into the back of her neck from the heavens. A sudden weight pressed down on her chest, a physical squeezing of her heart so intense she gasped for air.
Is this a heart attack?
Panic flared—not for her life, but for the children she would leave behind. They had no one else. Their parents had long ago abandoned them to chase their own selfish lives.
"Hey! You okay?"
Alyssa was standing at the door, tapping her shoulder. The contact snapped the spell.
"I’ve been calling you for a minute," Alyssa laughed. "What are you looking at? Waiting for the first drop of rain to hit your tongue?"
Cana blinked, her heart settling into a normal rhythm. "What happened?"
"What do you mean 'what happened'? Nothing happened."
Cana checked herself. The crushing weight was gone. The unnatural heat had vanished. Did I fall asleep standing up? Was it a daydream?
"Come on," Alyssa urged, pulling her back inside. "Let's get back before the heavens open up."
Cana followed, but the unease lingered like a shadow. Inside, she threw herself into work, counting inventory with a frantic speed that didn't go unnoticed by Lulu.
"Cana, slow down," Lulu said, looking concerned. "Are you alright? You've been acting... strange since you came back in."
"I'm fine, Ma'am. Just trying to finish early so I don't get stuck in the rain. Commuting is a nightmare in this weather."
Lulu nodded, but her eyes remained narrowed. She wasn't convinced.
By the time Cana finally boarded her bus home, the rain began to fall in heavy, rhythmic sheets. She slumped into a seat, watching the standing passengers sway with the motion of the bus. She wanted to offer her seat to someone, but her body felt like lead. She closed her eyes, drifting toward sleep...
SCREEE-HIIIISSS!
The bus slammed on its brakes. Passengers shrieked as they were thrown forward. Complaints turned into terrified whispers as the driver and his assistant stared out the windshield, paralyzed.
"What is that light?" someone shouted.
Cana stood up, squinting through the rain-streaked glass.
In the middle of the road, directly in the path of the bus, stood a golden object. It was a staff—a scepter—taller than a man, glowing with a brilliant, ethereal light. It stood perfectly upright on the asphalt, unsupported by anything. No wires, no stage hands. Just a shimmering, impossible relic in the middle of a Philippine highway.
The cars behind them began a symphony of angry honking, but inside the bus, it was deathly silent.
“Hmm-hmmm-m-hmm...”
Cana’s blood turned to ice. Someone was humming. She looked around, but the passengers were all silent, their faces pale.
“Hmm-hmmm-m-hmm-m-hmmm...”
The sound was right in her ear. It was a melody she didn't know, sung in a voice she recognized perfectly. It was her own voice but it sounded like fading or being swayed by the wind. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and that strange, searing heat returned, blooming in her chest.
"I am Erusiel Nikolas Athanasios, I offer my heart and soul to..."
Her heart pounded hard upon hearing a man's voice this time. It felt like a matter of life and death.
"Erus!"
The name left Cana’s lips before she could think. It felt like a key turning in a lock.
In the blink of an eye, she was no longer on the bus. She was standing on the wet asphalt, feet away from the golden scepter. There was no fear now—only a strange, ancient certainty. As her fingers brushed the glowing metal, the world exploded into white.
Her form shifted, her clothes weaving into something otherworldly, but there was no one able to see it. When the light faded, the spot where the scepter stands became empty. The girl and the scepter were gone.