The gray sky over Tundun seems to match mine and the other Tunduvans' feelings. I gaze upon the half-mast flags of Tundun and Iberia as the wind waves them both. It's been two days since Father left, two days since he died.
If I only knew that these things would happen... once again, I feel my cheeks pooling with tears. Son of a bitch, I've been drowning in tears since yesterday, after hearing the news. My eyes wander outside towards the coconut trees that sway with the wind, calm and careless. My eyes feel heavy and tired.
My trance is broken by a knocking from the door, "Ginoong Mayari," said the voice from the other side.
"You may enter," I answered.
An aliping namamahay enters my room. She's wearing a black baro, like the others; her eyes sweep the room, messy, glasses broken on the floor. I can sense a hint of pity in the way she looks at me – I really hate that look -. When she notices me looking back, she clears her throat and asks if I'm ready.
"The burning is about to happen, my lady," she adds.
The burning — my people's tradition of sending the dead with holy fire.
But in my dad's case, is there anything left to burn?
I smirk and fix my hair. She tries to help, but I tell her to stay still. My eyes are bloodshot; my skin bears the signs of exhaustion, not from labor; the gods know how easy my life can be... maybe too easy.
I fasten my hair with the golden ornament Father gave me on my last birthday. When I'm done, I pat her shoulder. "I'm ready."
"Wait," I say suddenly, turning to her. "Lara, have you seen my earring? The one Father gave me?"
"Earring?" she echoes.
"Yes, this one's pair." I show her the one I'm still wearing. A crescent moon pierced by a kampilan, our family's insignia.
"My apologies, Ginoo, but I haven't," she says with a bow. "Shall I look for it?"
"Nah. Let's just go to the hall," I say, already walking past her.
'I'm fine,' was my constant answer to those who were asking me since yesterday. I mean, how the fuck do they expect me to feel? Happy? Delighted? My hands form a fist, remembering our last conversation. What if I just forced him to stay and teach me eskrima? And the fact that my last words towards him were filled with irritation. These thoughts keep crawling on me, like a disease, consuming my very being.
We reached the hall where dad's "remains" are lying. I was greeted by the massive portrait of my grandpa Datu Atche, hanging on the center wall of the hall. Now, it is to be replaced by dad's. I glance down and catch my reflection on the floor—smooth and shining, the nara wood polished so well I can see the mess that is my face staring back. The walls, built from ironwood, are draped with black satin curtains that swallow the light. And in the middle, my dad's coffin. The top of it has a sculpture of two men rowing a boat.
The coffin itself is just for show. It only contains father's last clothes. Soldiers reported that dad's.... that dad's body probably burned to ashes after the explosion.
"My deepest condolences Ginoong Mayari." A voice from my back says. Turing, I see Governor – General Yizmael Sandoval. His fair skin stands out like a sore thumb among our browner skin.
He takes a deep sigh, "It's such a shame, you know." He adds, "A great warrior being killed by a mindless beast. He was a great tool for the empire of Iberia."
'Tool!?' Did this son of a bitch just call my dad a tool!? Slowly, my hands prepare to put this fucker in place. My breathing flares as my right slowly rises. But then, a hand sneaks in from behind, stopping mine.
"Good morning, Princess Mayari." The hand that clasps mine is rough and familiar, it's Elder Kuyo.
"Ginoong Kuyo..." My thoughts are now clear.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." He said while bowing his head.
Raising his head, he greets Yizmael. The fucker just chuckles, greets Ginoong Kuyo back, and proceeds to walk toward the others. Elder Kuyo quickly walks in front of me. His face seems to be blended with disappointment and sorrow. He places his hands on my shoulders.
"Princess Mayari," his husky voice, is heavier than usual, "I know how hard it is for you..." he bows his head, then stares into my eyes, "however, you must also learn to control your emotions." He shifts his gaze to the coffin, then back at me once again, "Especially now that the 'putong na ginto' will be transferred to you just a few days from now."
I stare at the 'Putong na ginto' lying on my father's throne. A turban made from red threads from abaca silk, lined with gold and diamonds. More like a chain for me rather than a crown.
I just nod at Elder Kuyo. He smiles weakly as he escorts me to the others. Just the normal shits in these kinds of gatherings. People masking their true intentions, faking empathy, and people saying shits like they're 'sorry', 'they didn't believe it at first', and all those craps. These are the same things that happened during my mom's funeral years ago. Now, I'm a total orphan, but soon will be a mother of a kingdom colonized by a foreign empire.
The ceremony starts. Babaylan Ada, went in front of the coffin. Her weathered face starts to shake, and so do her hands. there are four more babaylans from each of her sides. They started to dance slowly, a black veil covering their faces. They reach for heaven as Ada started to chant.
"Oh, Kaptan, great and powerful! Hear our prayers. Guide our hearts! Cover Datu Rakta and escort him towards the embrace of your mother, the great goddess Kan-laon!" They start kneeling, one by one, while their hands stretch upward.
"Oh, goddess Kan-laon, goddess supreme and most divine!" Ada's voice shakes like she's being possessed.
"Hear us of merciful lord, close Sulad's gate. Welcome our datu to Kalangitan's embrace!"
After the chant, their tattoos began to glow red. Blue flames bloomed in their palms, soft at first, then steady. They placed their hands upon Father's coffin, and soon the fire spread, calm, slow, and serene until it consumed it whole. The ashes are then put inside a porcelain urn, with its cap again has a sculpture of two men rowing a boat.
I spot Elder Aslon standing on the right side of the urn, his eyes red and swollen.
Behind him stands Hiraya, his loyal Maharlika. That sight reminds me of something. I glance around, searching for a familiar face. My Maharlika, Salimbay. I haven't seen her since yesterday, and that feels… strange.