The journey from Kolupati’s Village to Thala’s port proved to be a calm one, as the waters showed no resistance when the boat set off. The God kicked off her shoes, tied up her hair, and rested her head against the bench. Kolupati laid at the very front of the boat and sprawled out, looking up at the white. Shielding her eyes from the sky, she said, “The stars always shine the brightest the closer we get to Thala’s, don’t they, Delfi?”
“Yes, Lady Kolupati. We should reach her port by nightfall, and you will be able to see them shine.”
“Wake me when the stars are bright, then.”
Kolupati closed her eyes. Being on the boat could not lull her into sleep. She, however, did not want to entertain herself while the Anito worked.
After an agonizing six hours, the God opened her eyes to Delfi about to wake her. “The stars are bright, Lady. Lady Thala's port should be near.” Stars illuminated Thala’s port, even the bamboo rope that tied the market boats together were decorated with tiny white stars for the sole purpose of helping guide travelers in the night. No humans in sight, but eerily calm furry creatures ran from boat to boat.
“Okay,” Kolupati stood and exited the boat. “Before I open a portal, let’s see what the God of Stars provides her followers. I think I saw a restock of Star Candy.”
Kolupati moved from the narrow boardwalk to the boats, stepping so lightly that the boats hardly swayed. Thala’s felines stared and watched her. She entered the boat stocked with food and juice, grabbing three packets of Star Candy and a blue juice that glittered when light hit the bottle. She approached Thala’s shrine, a dark blue stone hidden underneath a white veil. She rested her hands in prayer. This allowed the Death God to harness some borrowed energy from the Goddess, the only one in the Court who somewhat tolerated the woman. When she finished, she hopped back onto her boat and opened a portal large enough for the boat to travel through.
Complete silence on the still water awaited them, and despite it being spring, there was a cold atmosphere. She puzzled whether she had accidentally opened a portal to her own realm, but fog overlooked the water the longer she stared ahead.
“What is this—” Delfi brought up his paddle, and touched the dark seaweed on it. “Lady, where are we?” Kolupati leered over the side of the boat, not trusting the water but not finding anything wrong with it at first glance, only greeted by innocent ripples rocking against the boat. But this place was not recognizable, and it was not anywhere close to Batala's own realm. Mist surrounded her eyes.
"Don't touch it," she spoke. "Remove the paddle, now."
The crystal-blue water, not familiar to Kolupati’s eyes, blackened, and the seaweed Delfi touched was not seaweed at all. Thick black hair filled the water surrounding them, dark thick noodles knotted together. A multo screeched and climbed on the upside of the boat, its head twisting and exposing the other mouth, all expelling black hair, attached to it. Unhinging the mouths of its' like a snake, they latched onto Delfi’s paddle and let the hair climb up it to wrap around the Anito.
“Lady Kolupati!” he panicked, thrusting the paddle into one of its unhinged mouths. Jaws cracked as he pushed it forward, but the creature showed no sign of struggle. The first corruption, hidden underneath the mass of hair, was a drowned corpse of a girl. Possibly a few years younger than Kolupati's own form.
She ripped out the knife from her breast and slashed it vertically across the girl’s nose and forehead. A hissing came from either the multo's mouth or the hair sliding across the boat, and it stumbled backwards before shaking its head violently. There was not much Kolupati could do but open another portal and escape through it.
The brightness of Batala’s realm nearly blinded her workers, but she squinted her eyes against the light and saw that Batala’s port was already occupied. Kolupati rinsed her hands of the muck. She pulled Delfi in by the hands and examined him for any corruption from the multo, on the eyes, fingers, anywhere where possible contamination could have been.
“You are well,” she confirmed. “I thought I’d lost you, my child. There shouldn’t be any interference within the portals…”
“It is due to the Lady’s kindness that I and the others are not at the bottom of the lake,” he said. “Whatever the mistake, I pray that we get to the port safely.”
Her attention focused to the boat already pulling in. “Please don’t be Anuk Buwan,” she prayed as they grew closer to the other, even as his insignia blazed on the boat's decorations. She poured a handful of small gray and purple candy crystals, twinkling as they moved in her palm, into her mouth and bit down. Sparks flooded inside her mouth. “He can never turn that brain of his off.”
"Lord Libum is not really thinking of leaving you, is he, Lady?"
"Would you think about promoting me into his position?" The ghost, trying to loosen his boss's nerves, joked innocently.
"We'll see," she smiled despite her annoyance. "Only if he pays me what he's worth."
The Son of the Moon searched for her, though. He jumped from his boat to hers, his feet elegantly avoiding the steps underneath them, never once touching the ground. His mouth already began spewing bullshit. The bulawani cascading around his head, glowing beads held together by a wrapped band of white, cast light upon his handsome face. Anuk Buwan’s skin was cloaked in that light, his hand outstretched on his blind side for Kolupati to take.
“Kolu-pa-ti. What did you do to piss Batala off that he called all of us here?” His lips twitched, the corner barely lifting up into a smile. “The rumors are running rampant all over the islands. Death to Gods and those devoted alike!”
“It saddens me to hear you believe rumors so easily. You know Batala,” she emphasized, taking his hand. “He isn’t satisfied no matter the idea I come up with. He’s going to scold me to keep me in line and set an example to the rest of them. Whatever you hear is just slander against me.” The port was not exactly close to where they needed to be, but the two could either open another portal or walk all the way through the mountains to the entrance. “Do you think the others are here already?”
“Most likely.” He examined her, and said, “Are you well, nenei? You look pale. Don't tell me that Libum has managed to weaken you.”
She refused to say a word about the events that transpired, and her workers were silent. Only a God could interfere with a portal and splay her off course, she thought. Kolupati praised them in her head for their thinking. Part of her was aware that they might have been traumatized from what had just happened. In reality, the ghosts were just too scared to say anything in the presence of Anuk Buwan, knowing he set Kolupati's temper off.
“Should I open up a portal for you, Anuk Buwan? I know how tired these things make you.”
He scowled before saying, “Don't you talk down to me. You have no right to speak to me that way.” He quickly slashed a few symbols into the air with pale, slender fingers, and stood aside so Kolupati could move first. He's too prideful, she thought. At least it worked in her favor. “I appreciate the concern, nenei, but let us not keep our fellow family waiting.”
Green rice terraces decorated and stretched at least two thousand meters across the mountains of Batala’s realm. Farmers standing on the steps of the rice fields stopped their harvesting as the Gods transcended. One’s imagination paled in comparison to the reality of the Lord Maker’s home: a grandeur display of wealth beyond Anuk Buwan’s own ornery attitude. High ceilings reaching towards the heavens glared down on them.
Rows of followers in white garb bowed to the floor as Kolupati and Anuk Buwan strode through kapis-glazed beams that supported the weight of Batala’s home, and through the Spiritual Hall one could hear the sounds of the Gods talking in the pantheon. Batala must have not made himself known just yet.
They entered the Feasting Hall, pearls ranging in the color of wine and white sparkled underneath their feet. At the very end of this, acacia-carved thrones sat, occupied by most of the Gods. Kolupati took notice that despite the summoning, not many Gods had shown themselves. This was not exactly cause for alarm, or a show of disrespect and obedience, but some were on their way to becoming Lost Gods. Their devotees were slim, their teachings rare and disbelieved. Most, if not all, spent their days keeping what remained of their last shrine intact. Kolupati envied them. As long as Death existed, the Death God would live on.
A few Gods appeared irritated at their arrival, tossing bulawani into the center of the table. The two ignored this and sat in their usual spots, Anuk Buwan seated next to the Sun God, Arangwa, and Kolupati seated next to Byuhan, the Goddess of Life. She exchanged pleasantries with her opposite. These four were to be seated closest to Batala, while the rest were spread out further away.
“They still bother holding that bet?” asked Kolupati, eyeing the mountain of gold coins. He nodded. “They might as well give up. Who knows, you might outlive them.” Anisad, the last to bid, scowled as they met eyes.
“I doubt that,” answered Anuk Buwan, adjusting his eyepatch. The yellow crescent moon flickered as he moved it. “Let them play their games, maybe one of them might hold out and win this thing.” Arangwa snorted, but when Anuk Buwan shot him a glare, the Sun God averted his eyes. Kolupati looked at Anuk Buwan through her side vision but before she could make a comment, she was interrupted. The gentle string music of a kudyapi could be heard playing from somewhere above the stairs, but it came to an abrupt stop as Batala’s eyes fell upon the other Gods.
They could all tell when Batala was watching and stood up in unison. “Ama,” the Gods spoke. “Salamat.” A blissful smile spread across Batala’s face when he heard the term being said.
“It seems we are all gathered. A few missing faces, but pay them no mind. I know how exhaustive all of your journeys have been, and I am here to welcome you all with open arms.” He extended his arms out for effect, his white hair sprawling out past his shoulders. Today, he was dressed in red robes and a bulawani gold cuff kept part of his hair in place. “I will make your travel worthwhile. First, let us eat.”
Batala’s followers pushed through with carts carrying food: fresh steamed buns filled four different ways with four different meats, sweet rice cakes that were soaked in Spirit Wine, pickled unripe ubawi the size of pearls, Kolupati’s leftover chicken rice and sutow that Libum had prepared, and a few candied flowers that were filled with patawan juice; the other Gods brought roasted chicken and pigs, rice, and cabo tabs, along with Batala’s contribution: a singular tray of Food For the Gods and enough to supply one bar per God.
“Ama is always generous!” The Gods shouted in unison as they each devoured one. The eyes of each God burned a simmering yellow for a moment before returning to normal, re-energized. Cradling their tabs in dried leaves, they chewed on the cabo until it dissolved.
“Eat up. Fill your bodies and rest. The ascension ceremony is almost upon us, perhaps eating and drinking will bring good luck, and bless us with a new God for the Celestial Court.”
The ascension Ceremony did not welcome a new God in many years, but the yearly ceremony was still a tradition that Batala insisted the Gods uphold. But in all honesty, the modern age had caused a stagnation that none of the Gods bothered to work around, yet still, they all held onto hope. If Batala said it would happen, then it would be true. Lost Gods were becoming the norm, and it wouldn't have surprised the woman if there were only the five of them, the origin Gods, left at the end of all things.
