Shadows of the Unseen

The Mulawins were unlike anything Damien had ever encountered. A proud and ancient tribe, they were humanoid beings with magnificent wings reminiscent of eagles, their feathers shimmering with iridescent hues under the sunlight. Their sharp eyes missed nothing, and their every movement carried an elegance born of centuries of survival and mastery over the mystic arts. They referred to themselves as protectors of the balance, guardians of the fragile veil separating their world from chaos. Damien learned their name only when his imprisonment ended and they grudgingly began to explain their ways.

 
Despite their initial hostility, the Mulawins had decided to train Damien, reasoning that his sudden appearance couldn't be mere chance. Their elder, a stoic leader named Lakan, believed he might serve a purpose even if it was yet unclear. It wasn't a warm welcome, but Damien found himself immersed in a world of mystic arts and ancient rituals that defied everything he thought he knew.
 
The training was grueling. The Mulawins taught him to harness latent energy within him, channeling it into focused bursts of power. "Every creature in this realm is tied to the balance," Lakan explained. "Your existence here means you, too, are part of it. If you are to survive, you must learn."
 
Damien struggled to adapt, his analytical mind clashing with the intuitive, almost spiritual nature of the Mulawins' teachings. His skepticism only fueled their insistence, and bit by bit, he began to grasp the basics. As days turned into weeks, at least as time felt in this world, he began to notice subtle changes in himself. His movements grew sharper, his senses keener, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of power stir within him.
 
The training was interrupted abruptly one fateful day.
 
The first sign of the attack was the tremor in the earth beneath their feet. The air turned cold and heavy, the ominous energy preceding a battle. Then came the guttural snarls and sharp cries of the dark forces descending upon the Mulawin village.
 
"Aswang," Lakan spat, his face grim. "The shadow thrives on destruction. They seek to claim this place."
 
The village erupted into chaos as Tiktiks, a grotesque army of creatures with elongated limbs and slithering tongues, poured through the trees, their leader, a monstrous Aswang, towering behind them. The Mulawins fought valiantly, their wings giving them an aerial advantage, but the enemy numbers were overwhelming.
 

Damien, still untrained, found himself thrust into the fray. His instincts as a detective kicked in, analyzing patterns, looking for weaknesses. But this wasn't the real world; his gun was useless against the dark creatures. Instead, he relied on what little he had learned, channeling energy into his fists. A spark of light erupted as he struck a Tiktik, sending it reeling back.
 
Lakan swooped down beside him, his expression grim. "You must go, Damien," he said firmly.
 
"What? I can fight!" Damien protested.
 
"No!" Lakan roared. "You are not ready. Your presence here endangers us all. You must flee to the Southern Tribe. They will shelter you. Go now!"
 
Before Damien could argue further, another Mulawin pushed him toward a hidden path leading into the dense forest. Reluctantly, Damien ran, his heart pounding as the sounds of battle faded behind him. The Mulawins' sacrifice weighed heavily on him, but survival was paramount.
 
The forest was a maze, and soon, Damien realized he wasn't alone. The Tiktiks had picked up his trail, their guttural growls growing louder as they closed in. He stumbled through the underbrush, his breath ragged, when a familiar figure stepped into his path.
 
It was the woman with the stick.
 
"You again?" Damien gasped, his voice filled with a mix of disbelief and anger.
 
She raised her weapon, her expression unreadable. "This time, you're not running," she said simply.
 
Before he could react, she slammed the stick into the ground, unleashing a blinding wave of energy. The force hit Damien like a tidal wave, and the world around him twisted and blurred. He felt himself being pulled, like being yanked out of one dream and thrown into another.
 
When he opened his eyes, the world around him shifted violently, and he felt his body hit solid ground. Blinking rapidly, Damien realized he was back in the grimy alleyway, the dim streetlights flickering overhead. The cold, familiar smell of the city hit him like a slap, pulling him fully into his surroundings. It was the same alley where everything had begun, but the jarring transition left him disoriented.
 
"Damien!" a voice called out, pulling him from his daze. It was his partner, Lucas, who had been waiting for him at the diner. "You okay? You've been gone for, like, five minutes. Thought you got lost."
 
"Five minutes?" Damien muttered, disoriented. "No, that can't be right…"
 
Lucas frowned. "You sure you're okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
 
Damien shook his head, trying to process everything. Was it all just a hallucination? A bizarre dream? He glanced around the alley, half-expecting to see a Tiktik emerge from the shadows, but everything was normal. Too normal.
 
Later that night, as he changed into fresh clothes, he caught sight of something on his arm. A faint mark, like an intricate tattoo, barely visible unless the light hit it just right. The pattern was unlike anything he'd seen before—ancient, almost tribal, and strangely familiar.
 
His heart raced. The mark wasn't there before.
 
He traced it with his fingers, a chill running down his spine. Whatever he had experienced, dream or not, had left its mark.
 
Damien Tenebris was a detective, and now he had a new mystery to solve, one that might just change everything he thought he knew about himself and the world.