At the dock, Kolupati began throwing her belongings into the boat, waking the Anito who were pretending to be asleep, tilting up their hats to whistle at followers passing. Followers would see the remnants of ghosts occupying the boat, but common folk would refuse to touch it due to the strange aura it radiated.
“Come on, boys!” she yelled. “It’s time to go.” The smell of sea salt permeated her nostrils, burning her nose.
“Why are we leaving in the middle of the day?” asked Delfi, rubbing his eyes and adjusting his salulot. There was more fear and alarm in his eyes. “Lady…Did you get kicked out of the meeting again?”
“No. There is no longer a reason for us to be here. We’re going somewhere where I can relax, and then we’ll be heading back into the Village.” She jumped onto the boat and it rocked to the left before settling. “Let’s get out of here. When we get to the markets, you can buy whatever you want.”
“Thank you, Lady Kolupati!” the group said in unison. Their smiles did nothing to calm her; she knew they were just fake to keep her from getting too emotional.
Batala watched from the top of the stairs as Kolupati departed, and she waved to him, opening a portal and sending the boat through to Kaninan’s port.
Her acolytes welcomed Kolupati with couth, but a few nervous glances were exchanged. It was necessary, after all, to be alert around Death. Though she mostly delegated lowly tasks of picking up souls to those beneath her, she still managed to cause anxiety.
“I have no business other than to purchase goods,” she assured them, and they physically relaxed. “But who knows, there is always the possibility of an accident.” Kolupati leapt off the boat and past them, heading straight for her favorite shop, the one with treasures from across the human realm, far where even some humans had no care for Batala or his Gods. She searched for the foreign malasa and squealed when she saw it and tried to reach over the counter and grab it, waving to the shop owner. “Lola!”
“Lady Kolupati!” The old woman slapped her hand away from the malasa. “Don’t touch it until you buy it!”
“It’s a new flavor, isn’t it?”
“Lolo says it’s his favorite,” the woman said as she began packaging the powdered cubes. “It’s pomegranate.” Genius! Kolupati thought, remembering the old lola had picked pomegranates a few months ago and their sweet, distinct taste as the small, ruby jewels popped in her mouth. She was impatient, and opened up the container to pop one in her mouth, her eyes watering from the sugar, the sweetness of the pomegranate was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. Her lips puckered.
This is what godliness is, Kolupati thought happily. She bought some more produce and fresh calamansi, hauling a giant bag full of fruit and vegetables and jewelry.
The boat set off, they were on the water for two hours before Kolupati ordered, “Stop.”
“What is it, Lady?” asked Reid from below her.
“I’ll open a portal, but it’ll tire me out for a while. You should all be able to go home and enjoy your meals.” She didn’t stop to listen to the men’s protests before taking a deep inhale through her nose. Her eyebrow twitched as she opened a portal large enough, struggling to keep it open as they wafted through. She expected to be in another predicament as before, but she breathed a sigh of relief.
The portal had helped them get directly back into her own port, but it resulted in a shaking hand and a wave of exhaustion. As expected, no one was there to greet her at the port, and she had not requested that the other villagers do so. The night was peaceful and quiet, and the only sounds she could hear were the gentle paddling of the boat and the sounds of rope being tied to the post.
“Sometimes, it can be so beautiful here…” she sighed, carrying her bag. Her stomach growled, and she had no time to lament for missing the feast that Batala held that night. It was either starving or dealing with Anuk Buwan’s snarky face for another night, and Kolupati thought herself tortured enough. If anything, she’ll have just missed dinner and could eat the leftovers, or maybe she’d ask the two of the Anito to make her an entirely new meal.
As she imagined what Libum cooked up while she was away, she could not help the unnerving feeling that something was not quite right in her own realm. No lights were on inside the Spirit House, and as she opened the courtyard door there were no sounds from inside, not even the welcoming smell of a warm meal Libum prepared.
Kolupati whistled. “Anyone in here?”
There was no response to Kolupati’s call, so she turned around to search outside her home. Libum was not one to work extremely late hours, but he would on rare instances, and she doubted Tikba had been dragged into that.
She went to the most obvious place: the homes where the Inapo made their stay, but her contracts weren’t there. Libum wasn’t one to forage in the middle of the night, either, but she kept walking. A strong sense, something pulled her deeper into the Village, to the sound of voices. Not wanting to get caught, she used what energy she had left to blend into the found crowd of humans.
In all honesty, Kolupati had suspicions of this for a long time, but she could never be bothered to actually check, and there were no complaints of it, so she let it be. The only surprising thing was that the familiar building had been the one to hold this event.
Watching it, however, was a different story. The Tagkawal had brought such senseless violence into the Village of those already grieving, even if those humans made horrible decisions that led them down this path. She watched, equal parts amused and horrified, until she had enough and walked into Tagkan’s Spirit House, her eyes glowing as she realized just what had been made of it.
