The message arrived via ancient magic—a scroll that appeared in the center of the council table, smoking with dark energy.
"Gladys,
You've taken everything from me. My reputation. My partner. My future.
Now I'll take everything from you.
I have twelve Manananggals—young, powerful, loyal. In one week, on the full moon, we will attack Dumaguete. Not the humans. YOUR community. Your precious creatures.
You can stop this. Surrender yourself to me. Publicly. Willingly. Let me consume your power as the Ibwa tried to do.
Refuse, and your family dies.
Choose.
—Marikit"
Silence filled the council chamber.
Then chaos.
"We need to evacuate—"
"We need to fight—"
"We need to call the Department—"
"ENOUGH." Glad's voice cut through. "She wants me to choose. So I choose."
She looked at the council, at Ariel, at Maya.
"I choose to fight. Not alone—together. We have something she doesn't. Community. Trust. Love." She touched the amulet Ariel had given her, still around her neck. "We've faced ancient evils before. We'll face this one too."
The council rallied.
Preparations began.
One week until the full moon.
One week until everything changed.