Jaice almost had it.
His breath was fire in his throat, his legs burned with an ache that had long since gone numb, but none of it mattered, he was so close. The treasure chest pulsed ahead of him, floating in a sea of nothing. It was an eerie and beautiful thing, its dark, metallic surface carved with symbols that shifted and writhed like living creatures. His fingers stretched forward, trembling with effort, just inches from the lid…
And then the ground vanished.
"What…NO! NO, NO, NO…"
Gravity seized `him, a merciless force that ripped him down. The chest, his prize, shot upward, disappearing into the oppressive gloom as he plummeted into an endless, ink-black abyss. Wind roared past his ears, a hurricane of whispers. The shadows that had been chasing him, the ones he'd been outrunning for what felt like miles, no longer coiled and snapped at his heels. Now, they laughed. It was a cold, grating sound that echoed from all directions.
It is not for you, they hissed, their voices like scraping stone. Thief. Give it back.
"OH, COME ON!" Jaice bellowed, his voice stolen by the wind as he tumbled through nothingness. "I WAS RIGHT THERE!"
A deep, ancient rumbling echoed from the depths, as if the darkness itself found his frustration amusing.
Then, just as the void yawned wider, a hungry maw ready to swallow him whole…
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Jaice jolted awake, his eyes snapping open to the familiar, cracked texture of his bedroom ceiling. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of adrenaline and pure, undiluted frustration. The phantom sensation of falling lingered, making his stomach swoop. He could still feel the chest's chilling glow on his fingertips.
His hand slapped wildly at his bedside table, knocking over a half-empty glass of water before finding the snooze button on his alarm clock, silencing it with a satisfying crunch.
He groaned, the sound muffled by his pillow. "Stupid dream."
Outside, a rooster, possessed with the kind of boundless enthusiasm only a rooster on a Monday morning can have, let out a piercing crow. A tricycle engine sputtered to life down the street, its distinctive two-stroke roar followed by a series of cheerful beeps from its horn.
Jaice groaned louder, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "And it's Monday? The multiverse is officially messing with me."
For a solid ten minutes, he refused to engage with the world, choosing instead to doomscroll through his phone with half-lidded eyes. Mindless. Empty. Anything to shake the dream's lingering disappointment. He flicked past memes about the horrors of Monday, a video of a cat falling off a chair, a post from his friend Justin complaining about a pop quiz.
And then…
A birthday greeting. From his Tita Marisol in Cebu. "Happy 12th Birthday, Jaice! Hope you have a wonderful day, iho!"
His breath hitched. His thumb froze over the screen.
"Wait."
His eyes darted to the top corner of his phone. The date glowed back at him. July 20.
"Wait."
He swiped down, pulling up the full calendar view, his heart starting a new, much faster rhythm. There it was. A small, automated entry. Jaice Fantez's Birthday.
"Wait."
The realization didn't just hit him like a truck. It was a multi-vehicle pile-up involving a freight train and a cargo plane.
"WAIT, WHAT?!"
He shot up in bed so fast the world tilted. His elbow connected with his bedside lamp, sending it crashing to the floor with a sound like a gunshot in the quiet morning.
He didn't have to wait long. Footsteps, heavy and fast, thundered up the stairs. His bedroom door slammed open, hitting the wall with a shudder.
"JAICE MIGUEL FANTEZ, WHAT IN THE WORLD…"
His mother, Elena, stood in the doorway. Her hair was already tied up, her hands were on her hips, and she had the determined look of a general about to lead a charge. A slipper, the dreaded pink one with the slightly worn sole, was already in her hand.
It flew.
Time seemed to slow. Jaice saw the projectile arc through the air, a pink blur of impending doom. He had a split second to react, but his limbs were still tangled in his blanket. It smacked him square in the face, the rubber sole stinging his cheek, and knocked him back onto the mattress with a soft oof.
The shadows in his dream? Nothing. The abyss? Child's play.
This? This was true terror.
He slowly peeled the slipper from his face, staring at it in stunned silence as if it were a strange, alien artifact. His mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a perfect, intimidating arch. Her eyes burned holes through him.
"Are you trying to wake the entire barangay? It's six o'clock in the morning!"
Jaice's mouth opened "Uhm.."
His brain was still trying to process three things at once: the dream, the birthday, and the aerial assault he'd just endured.
"Well…"
"Well what?!"
He pointed a shaky finger at his phone on the bed.
"It's… my birthday."
His mother's expression didn't soften. "And? Is that your excuse for trying to demolish the house before breakfast?"
Jaice's mind was a blank slate. What was he supposed to say? 'Sorry, Mom, my own body slipped my head?' He had no answer.
And that's when the full weight of it finally landed.
He had completely, utterly, and inexplicably forgotten his own birthday.
And now? He had to survive whatever came next.
His mother was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring like a general surveying a battlefield.
"Well, Jaice Fantez. Look at your room."
The morning sunlight bled through the windows, casting long slants of gold across the cluttered mess that was Jaice's room.
His Mom inspected his room.
"Look at this…" pointing to his table. "Didn't I tell you to clean up after you study?"
"Well.."
"And look," pointing up towards the top of his lamp. "Why on earth do you have a sock in your lamp?"
Jaice stared blankly and silently.
He didn't even want to remember how it got there.
Her mom sighed,
"Ayayay Jaice," equal parts disappointed, overworked, and done with everyone's nonsense.
"Just get up and get ready for school," she said, already walking away.
Her footsteps creaked down the stairs, each thump a countdown to further disappointment. "And don't forget to clean up this disaster before you leave!"
Jaice rubbed the spot where the slipper had hit him. The sting was still there. It wasn't just any slap. It had mom-infused power.
He sat up, the cool air brushing against his skin. "I can't believe I forgot my own birthday," he muttered, staring at his phone like it had betrayed him. "How does someone even do that?"
"Ugh…" he rolled out of bed, narrowly missing a pile of wrappers and crumpled worksheets. His feet padded across the cool tile floor as he grabbed his towel and made his way to the bathroom.
Inside, the fluorescent light buzzed faintly above, flickering once before stabilizing. The floor was slightly damp. His younger sister must've used it earlier, and the scent of lavender soap still lingered in the air. Jaice turned on the shower and stepped in, letting the cold water jolt his senses fully awake.
After drying off, he changed into his uniform, freshly ironed and hanging neatly by the door. It smelled faintly of Downy and steam. It was a silent testimony to his mother's daily pre-dawn battle with the ironing board.
He slung his backpack over one shoulder, checked his watch, then headed downstairs.
That's when it hit him.
The smell.
Sweet and buttery, with a caramel undertone that wrapped around him like a hug. There was also something savory.
"Eggs, maybe?" he thought..
"No, wait, garlic… Garlic rice?"
His stomach growled loud enough to embarrass him.
He followed the scent like a moth to flame, turning into the dining area, and stopped in his tracks.
There it was.
A towering four-layer pancake stack, its edges perfectly crisped, with golden-brown syrup dripping lazily down the sides like melted treasure. On top sat a single, ripe strawberry, red, vibrant, and slightly glossy. Next to it was a plate of garlic rice and scrambled eggs shaped into a messy heart. Beside that, a tall glass of fresh orange juice, still glistening with condensation.
"Happy Birthday, anak!" his mother chirped as she entered, now wearing a much softer expression. She had changed out of her pambahay and into a simple blouse and apron, her hair tied back. "I hope you liked the breakfast I made for you?"
She beamed with pride, hands on her hips like she'd just presented a royal feast.
"Huh, I swear mom was like king-kong earlier…" Jaice thought as just just ten minutes ago she'd gone full Mortal Kombat on him with a slipper. Now she was smiling like it was his graduation day.
He sat down, still rubbing the red mark on his cheek. "Yeah, Mom… for real looks awesome. Thank you."
She gave a small nod of approval, then turned and busied herself at the stove. The faint sizzle of hot oil followed her movements. Somewhere in the background, the TV in the living room was quietly playing a morning news report, something about traffic congestion in Quezon Avenue.
Jaice dug in, cutting through the pancake with reverence. Each bite was soft, warm, sweet, and lovingly chaotic, like the house itself.
As he finished breakfast, he glanced at the clock.
His eyes widened.
He sprang from the chair, nearly knocking it over. "What the… It's 7:13AM!"
"Hahahaha" his Mom laughed.
He threw on his shoes, grabbed his phone, backpack, sling bag, watch, and ID, then bolted toward the door.
His mom called out, "Don't forget your—"
"Bye Ma!"
SLAM.
Too late. He was already out the door.
The morning sun hit his face like a spotlight as he dashed down the sidewalk. He muttered to himself between gasps.
"Okay, okay. Maybe I'm not that late. Just powerwalk. Powerwalk, nope, na ah, never mind, we're running."
And then…
He stopped.
Dead in his tracks.
His shoulders slumped.
"…Notebook."
The one with all his notes. Quizzes. Homework. His entire academic life.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
He spun on his heel and sprinted back, the soles of his shoes slapping against the pavement like angry applause.
Bursting through the front door, he startled his mother, who was now wiping down the kitchen counter.
She didn't even look up. "Forgot something?"
"Yes!" Jaice wheezed, sprinting upstairs and snatching his notebook off the desk like it owed him money. He stuffed it into his bag with a groan.
This time, as he headed out the door again, he double-checked everything like a soldier prepping for war.
"Watch…check. Phone…check. Wallet…check. Sanity…idk."
He finally left, heart pounding, legs already tired, and a single hope buzzing in his mind:
"This better not be a sign of how today's gonna go…"
As Jaice walked briskly toward school, the cool breeze brushing past his cheeks, the city around him moved with its usual rhythm. Tricycles weaved through the streets, schoolchildren laughed behind him, and the occasional dog barked from behind a rusty gate. The noise was familiar, but none of it reached him.
His mind was elsewhere.
Somewhere deeper.
Somewhere older.
Because for some reason… that memory had returned.
A memory he hadn't thought about in years.
A moment from when he was younger. When his grandfather, old and fragile yet strangely fierce in spirit, had called him outside under the moonlight.
He had been barely twelve then, still awkward, still asking questions about everything. That night, they'd sat on the old bamboo bench outside the house, the air thick with the scent of sampaguita and freshly cut grass. His grandfather had looked up at the stars as though he recognized them, like they were old friends he hadn't seen in a while.
Then he spoke.
Jaice remembered every word.
"On the eve of your twelfth year, as sunset yields to the silvery glow of night… as the moon transforms into a burnished orb and the Golden Hour starts… retrieve the last testament of our ancestor. The whispers of the past will awaken, guiding you toward a destiny yet unknown."
At the time, Jaice had laughed. He had thought it was some bedtime story. A cryptic lullaby. Maybe even one of Grandpa's weird attempts at sounding mystical. After all, old people say strange things sometimes, right?
But now?
Now it didn't feel like nonsense.
Now, it felt like a warning.
A prophecy.
A puzzle waiting to be solved.
He whispered the lines to himself as he walked, lips barely moving.
"Burnished orb… golden hour… last testament…"
"Whispers of the past… a destiny yet unknown…"
The words repeated in his head, like a haunting melody he couldn't silence.
Each phrase clung to him, pressing down like invisible hands. He looked up at the morning sky. It was still bright blue, no moon in sight, and shivered anyway. His heart beat just a little faster. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.
What did it mean?
Why now?
Why today?
He remembered his grandfather's face that night, so calm, yet so intense. Like he knew something. Like he wasn't just making things up. Jaice had brushed it off as a weird moment back then, but the way Grandpa had looked at him… the way his eyes shimmered under the moon…
He knew.
He knew something.
And now Jaice was beginning to believe it.
He had tried to forget. He tried to ignore it. Life had moved on. School, friends, deadlines, late-night cramming, social media scrolling, all of it had buried that memory under layers of routine and noise.
Until today.
Until the dream.
Until the moon in that dream had gleamed golden.
Until that moment where he had been so close to touching something…something ancient, something powerful…before the ground had vanished beneath him.
He stopped walking for a moment, his shoes scraping against the pavement. The street around him blurred for a second, like his focus had shattered.
He closed his eyes.
"Was it just a story?" he whispered to himself. "Was he just… acting to sound important?"
But even as he asked, he already knew the answer.
His grandfather never spoke without purpose. Never said anything purely to entertain. Everything had meaning, even if it took years to uncover.
Jaice started walking again, slower now, head lowered. He passed by a sari-sari store just opening up, the bell above the door jingling. A soft, old Tagalog ballad played from inside.
Still, the memory lingered.
He remembered the weight of his grandfather's hand on his shoulder. Heavy, firm, real. He remembered the exact tone of voice, low, serious, almost reverent voice.
"Retrieve the last testament of our ancestor."
" What on earth is the testament? Where? Did Gran-Gran leave something behind?"
He had passed away just a few weeks after that strange conversation, his sudden illness catching the entire family off guard. There had been no letter. No final message. Just… that night. That prophecy.
And now the words were crawling back from the grave like they had been waiting.
"Why now?" Jaice muttered, heart pounding faster. "Why on my bday? What does this even mean?"
The breeze carried the scent of hot asphalt and street food. It was the usual mix of fishballs and smoke. But it felt… colder somehow. Off.
Almost like something was watching.
He glanced behind him.
Nothing but an empty sidewalk.
No one was following him.
But the feeling stayed.
"Maybe I'm stress. Maybe the dream messed me up."
But deep down, something told him otherwise. Something inside him…a voice he didn't quite recognize…was urging him to listen. To remember.
"The whispers of the past will awaken…"
"A destiny yet unknown…"
He didn't believe in destiny.
He believed in Wi-Fi and lunch breaks and final exams.
And yet, here he was, clutching onto words from a dying grandfather like they were a roadmap to something bigger.
Something ancient.
Something forgotten.
And in that moment, Jaice knew, whether it was truth, prophecy, or madness, he couldn't ignore it anymore.
As Jaice arrived at school, something felt… wrong.
It wasn't anything obvious. The hallways buzzed with noise as usual. Students laughing, lockers clanging open, sneakers squeaking on the tile. Teachers passed by with papers tucked under their arms. A stray basketball bounced outside the gym.
Everything looked normal.
But for Jaice?
It wasn't.
The world around him moved as it always did, but he felt like he was watching it from behind a glass wall. His thoughts were still spinning, looping, circling, tightening like a noose. His grandfather's words hadn't left him. In fact, they were louder now, echoing like a chant beneath his every step.
"On the eve of your twelfth year, as sunset yields to the silvery glow of night... as the moon transforms into a burnished orb and the Golden Hour starts..."
"Retrieve the last testament of our ancestor..."
"The whispers of the past will awaken..."
"A destiny yet unknown..."
Each sentence struck deeper than the last.
He moved through the crowd with a blank stare, bumping shoulders and muttering apologies he barely noticed himself saying. The fluorescent lights above hummed quietly, the scent of cheap cologne and floor wax mixing in the air.
" a Golden what…?" he whispered under his breath, barely audible.
His fingers twitched against his bag strap. What does that even mean? What testament? What whispers?
By the time he reached the classroom, he wasn't even aware of walking there.
He sat near the window, as he always did. But instead of unpacking his things, he simply stared outside. His eyes were locked onto the sky. The clouds drifted lazily across the morning blue, and the sun peeked just over the rooftops.
It was far from sunset.
Still, he waited.
Still, he listened.
His mind drifted to his grandfather's tone, how serious it had been. Not dreamy, not symbolic. It had been a warning. A declaration. And now it was repeating in his own voice, over and over again.
A soft glint of sunlight pierced the window glass, landing directly on his face. He blinked at the sudden flare of brightness, squinting and turning slightly.
The beam lingered, warm, golden, almost too golden. He frowned.
"...as the Golden Hour starts..."
The phrase echoed louder this time.
He sat upright, heart suddenly racing.
"What am I supposed to do with this?
Was it already starting? Was it today? Am I supposed to find something?"
Then—
Tap.
A light tap on his shoulder snapped him from his thoughts.
He turned, slightly startled.
One of his classmates gestured toward the front of the room, where a silence had fallen.
Jaice froze.
There, standing at the chalkboard, arms crossed, was Mr. Vazquez, their Science teacher. Stern, respected, and currently staring directly at him.
"Mr. Fantez," the teacher said slowly, his voice sharp but controlled, "I have been calling your name for nearly a minute."
A cold chill ran down Jaice's spine.
"I—uh—" he started, but no words came. His eyes flicked to his classmates, who were now watching with mild interest. A few looked concerned. Others were just waiting for something dramatic to happen.
Mr. Vazquez's frown deepened. "Are you feeling alright?"
Jaice opened his mouth. Do I tell him the truth? That I'm being haunted by a cryptic voice from the past? That the moon in my dream turned gold and now the sun feels wrong?
Yeah, right.
"I'm sorry, sir," Jaice said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… didn't get much sleep last night. I've had a bad headache since morning."
A pause.
Then, with a sigh, Mr. Vazquez nodded once. "Try to stay with us. Let me know if you need to go to the clinic."
"Yes, sir," Jaice replied, sinking slightly into his chair.
The lesson resumed.
But Jaice wasn't listening.
His body was in the room, but his mind was trapped in a labyrinth of memory and meaning. He stared at his desk, fingers idly tapping as he tried to make sense of it all. His pulse had barely slowed.
"Is this a sign? Was Gran-Gran warning me about something?"
"Why does this feel like the beginning of something?"
Then...
"Psssst."
He ignored it.
"Pssssssst."
Another tap.
He turned halfway this time.
Behind him sat Justin, his best friend since they were kids. He leaned forward, brow furrowed with concern, whispering just loud enough for Jaice to hear.
"Jaice… bro, you okay?"
Jaice blinked. "Huh?"
"You've been spacing out all the class. Mr. Vazquez was about to give you a public eulogy."
Jaice gave a weak smile. "I'm just tired. Didn't sleep well."
Justin tilted his head, unconvinced. "Bro," he whispered, "don't lie. I know you. Something's messing with your day."
Jaice hesitated.
He looked at his friend, really looked at him. Justin wasn't judging. He was worried. Honest. The kind of friend who wouldn't walk away just because something got weird.
So, Jaice decided to say something.
Not everything.
Just enough.
"It's just…" He exhaled, voice low. "I've been hearing some words. Old ones. From my Gran-gran."
Justin's brow furrowed.
"Like... remembering them?"
Jaice nodded. "They came back this morning. I haven't thought about them in years, but now I can't get them out of my head. They feel… real, and…" he paused, scratching his head, "...important."
Justin leaned back slightly, lips pressed in thought.
Before he could say anything else—
RING. RING. RING.
"What the…"
The school bell echoed through the hall.
Dismissal.
Justin grabbed his bag but looked at Jaice before standing.
"Well… if you ever need help, I'm here. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, yeah…"Jaice nodded silently.
"See yah!"
"Right, right, See yah"
He watched his friend walk out with the crowd, swallowed by the swarm of bodies and noise.
But Jaice stayed frozen.
As he packed up his things, the words whispered again, this time not from memory.
They came from inside.
From something deeper.
And he knew, with every ounce of his being—
This wasn't over.
It was only the beginning.
As Jaice walked home, lost in thought, the words continued to echo in his mind.
But this time—they were different.
It wasn't his grandfather's voice anymore.
It was his own.
"On the eve of my twelfth year, as sunset yields to the silvery glow of night, as the moon transforms into a burnished orb and the Golden Hour starts, retrieve the last testament of my ancestor. The whispers of the past will awaken, guiding me toward a destiny yet unknown."
Jaice stopped dead in his tracks.
His pulse quickened. His breath hitched.
"This is for real creeping me out," he whispered to himself, glancing around as if expecting someone—or something—to be there. But the street was empty, the only sounds being the distant hum of passing cars and the faint rustling of leaves in the evening breeze.
Then, suddenly—
BZZT—BZZT.
His phone vibrated. A call.
"Mom?"
He hesitated. Her name never showed up after school hours unless something had gone horribly.
He answered immediately. "Hello?"
Static. Then a rushed, trembling voice.
"Jaice." It was his mother. Breathless. Panicked.
"Mom? What's going on?"
"You need to come home. Now. It's—it's your dad."
The world seemed to narrow, the distant chatter of the streets fading to a cold silence.
"What about Dad?" His voice cracked.
There was a pause—too long. Then:
"He's not waking up."
Jaice froze.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Jaice your… your dad."
His thoughts blanked out. The golden light outside seemed to pulse brighter for a moment, almost as if it were listening. Watching.
"W-What do you mean not waking up?! He—he was fine this morning!"
"I don't know, baby. I don't know. He's breathing but he's not moving. His eyes are open but he's not there." Her voice cracked into sobs. "Please, Jaice. Please come home."
Click.
"Hello!"
"MOM!?"
The call was cut off.
Jaice froze, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Before he could react—before he could even think—
The world around him shifted.
A strange stillness fell over the street.
And then, above him—
The moon changed.
What was once a pale silver orb now burned with an eerie, golden hue. Its light wasn't soft or comforting—it was unnatural, almost alive.
Jaice's breath caught in his throat.
"No way…"
The words of his grandfather—words he once thought were nothing more than a cryptic memory—came crashing back.
"…as the moon transforms into a burnished orb and the Golden Hour starts…"
His body trembled. He slowly stepped backward, eyes locked on the sky.
"Is this it?" he thought, his heart pounding. "Is this what Gran-Gran meant?"
Panic and confusion twisted in his gut. His father—his mother's desperate voice—the burnished moon—
Everything was happening all at once.
Something was coming.
Something was already here.
And Jaice had no idea what he was about to face.