Everything in Libum was telling him to run away from what he’d already seen, but he spoke Kolupati’s words almost as if possessed:

“People never stop to take a break when dying. Souls never run out. We need to hurry before they release into the air, because fire makes the souls fragile.” Libum forced himself forward. The smell was easier to recognize over anything. When he dreamed, and most of his dreams consisted of nightmares, he imagined the smoke from the fire leaking from his nose and mouth and choking him to death in his sleep.

“Bosing?”

He snapped out of it and stood before the charred remains of a house still barely standing. A fire had started in the kitchen and was deemed too wild before it got out of hand, resulting in three casualties and one horribly wounded, but the God of Life seemed to be generous and the God of Death cruel today, as only one soul was saved. 

Emergency services were rolling out. 

It was an accident, as these kinds of things usually were. An overconfident man had left some flammable material next to a gas stove, and before he noticed his kitchen had gone up in flames. Libum located the soul, cowering above on what remained of the ceiling fan. The souls were damaged, trying to merge together into one. Tikba couldn’t help but yelp when Libum asked Tikba to hold it, possibly expecting it to feel as hot as the flames that burnt up its body. 

Instead, it was the warmth of a small sun. It felt kind of nice if he just told Tikba to ignore the fact that it was the soul of a deceased man. Libum directed Tikba where to put it, and let the soul be carried back and placed inside a small gourd-shaped container, trapping it inside to prevent its illness from spreading.

“Next?” Tikba asked.

The air was full of smoke, dark gray clouds waited above them. Libum felt a drop of rain hit his face, and it began pouring down, slapping against what remained of the ruined house and black asphalt.

“We’re done for today,” he said coldly. Libum could not focus his brain to what was really happening before him, the smell of the smoke still too strong in his nose. He held back his hand to resist scratching at the bumpy scarred skin that ran across his face. “The others will take care of what we can’t.” Did the man who died just now feel any pain? Flames always felt the most painful way to go. The screams sounded the worst, from Libum’s experience…

Wooden boards crushed part of the boy’s head and most of his body. He was unable to move, even though everything was screaming inside him to run. Each breath he took caused a sharp stabbing feeling in his lungs. He kept begging whoever that was listening to make him pass out, but he stayed awake throughout it all, the screams of people burning around him growing increasingly frantic before finally falling silent. Flaming wood had pressed up against his face, burning the skin there.

He hated it, but he was finally happy to hear the screams end, and coughed violently before passing out, the taste of ash on his tongue. 

“There’s a human here!” a deep, reverberating voice shouted. “Kolupati, it’s still alive!”

My chest…My chest hurts! he thought. The weight was crushing him. I’m going to die. I’m going to burn just like everyone else!

Tikba placed a hand on Libum’s shoulder and brought him back to himself. “Take it easy,” they murmured. “I’ll open a portal to get us back. You look awful.” He would have normally protested, but he allowed himself to be led back to the Village. 

Libum wasn’t even affected by the portal with Tikba right behind him. Tikba, who had been so cold entering the Village, felt warm behind him. Libum emptied the backpack he’d used to carry the souls and separated them into two piles. He went into the motions of uncorking containers and releasing souls into the Buhay to be temporarily held. Kolupati would have to sort and make contracts, later.

His body took over while his mind was somewhere else. Robotic, methodically planned motions filled his mind, ones he could do without thinking because he’d done them over and over. Libum was in the middle of uncorking air before Tikba lowered his hand down for him. “I finished first,” they smiled at him. “I win.”

“I didn’t know we were in a competition.”

“I was trying to get you to talk.” Tikba walked up to him, until they were almost chest to chest. They poked him in the chest, pleased. “It worked.”

He shoved them away. Libum summoned a hummingbird and told it the amount of souls both the Anito had collected that day, and it came back a few moments later carrying a small brown sack with gold string wrapped around its neck. If the hummingbird was bothered by the weight of the bag, it didn’t show it. It flew just as fast, but crash-landed into Libum’s hands. Libum carefully looped the bag off the bird’s neck and emptied the bulawani into his hand, not hiding the scowl on his face.

He thanked the bird before tossing Tikba’s half to them. Libum was beginning to regret his decision. In his mind, he should have toughened up and pushed through his work. He had gone through much worse. A little fire shouldn’t have had any effect on him, not this late into his life.

“Since I finished first, and we’re done collecting our souls for the day…How about we go exploring?” suggested Tikba with a smile, counting the coins. “The people who were sleeping all moved from their spots. They must be doing something.”

“They’re all just sleeping off their hangovers, puking, or fucking,” said Libum. “If you’re into voyeurism, you can ask the Tagkawal what they like to do in their free time.”

Tikba laughed. “You actually make decent jokes, bosing! As tempting as that sounds, I actually heard them talking earlier at the port. They’re planning something tonight, since Kolupati isn’t here. Doesn’t that sound interesting? We should go out and investigate.”

It didn’t surprise Libum that the Tagkawal were up to something, especially with the God of Death gone from her realm. But they had such an intense fear, or just dumb blind respect for Kolupati that anyone who would attempt angering her was shunned and had a death wish. 

He could humor Tikba for a few minutes, though, and take his mind off the fire. There always was a blockage—a type of wall he could not break through when he was reminded, and he didn’t want to bother trying to face it right now. Libum would show the soul what living here was all about, they’d get bored, and he could sleep off his day.

“Fine,” Libum said reluctantly. “I’ll take you, but if Mutya decides she wants to kidnap you, I’ll leave you behind.”

The Buhay was located at one end of the Village, somewhere far past Kolupati’s property. Libum led Tikba out of the forest and walked through until they met a clearing. The temple and its baths were nearby, but empty. Libum walked along a path with Tikba beside him, while he watched Tikba run around and ask Libum where they were going or if the Village always looked like this and if they could petition something like a recreation room being built—

Libum tuned them out and watched them zoom around out of the corner of his eye. The soul stopped as they walked towards the cluster of houses where the Tagkawal lived, the mountain, half-shrouded in mist, coming into view. If Libum focused his eyes, he could see rows of unoccupied houses scaling the side of it.

“It looks so beautiful.” Tikba trailed off. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so…” Libum looked expectantly, waiting for them to finish, before they turned around. Their eyes squinted shut as they smiled wide enough to show their teeth. “You’re even better to look at. I almost can’t choose between you two.”

“It’s not much,” said Libum in reply. Whatever mind games Tikba was attempting to play on him, it wouldn’t work. He took the trail that brought them to the Tagkawal houses. “Let’s go watch them sleep.”