Shadows of the Unseen

The alley was still buzzing with tension as Vincent and I burst onto the nearby street, panting and clutching our supplies. The manananggal was gone for now but we both knew her upper half wasn't the end of the story. Somewhere nearby, her severed lower half was waiting, and we had precious little time to find it before she returned to claim her body.

"Where the hell would a severed bottom half hide?" Vincent wheezed as we jogged.

"Think!" I barked. "It's got to be somewhere secluded. Maybe back where she started hunting tonight!"

"You mean you don't have a GPS tracker for these things?" Vincent snapped.

I ignored him, my mind racing as we veered toward the darker side streets. Every second counted. If she beat us back to her lower half or worse, alerted her kin our faces would be on the supernatural equivalent of a most-wanted poster.

We finally stumbled into a small, overgrown lot behind an abandoned house. The air was heavy with the scent of rotting vegetation, and I could feel my skin crawl.

"There!" I pointed toward a cluster of bushes. Sure enough, two pale, humanlike legs stood upright, perfectly still in the shadows.

"Why is it just... standing there?" Vincent whispered, his face pale.

"Don't question it!" I hissed. I whipped out my pouch of salt and garlic, motioning for Vincent to do the same. "Let's end this before she—"

Before I could finish, a tiny figure darted out from behind the legs. It was no bigger than a toddler, with a bulbous nose, pointy ears, and a mischievous grin plastered across its face. A dwende.

The little creature cackled, snatching up the severed legs in a feat of inexplicable strength and sprinting toward the other side of the lot.

"Are you kidding me?!" Vincent groaned, clutching his head.

"Stop complaining and run!" I yelled, bolting after the dwende.

The chase was pure chaos.

The dwende was fast and unnaturally fast. It zigzagged through the weeds, its tiny feet moving like a blur. Every time we got close, it would let out a mocking laugh and dart just out of reach.

"Is it taunting us?" Vincent yelled, dodging a rusted wheelbarrow the dwende had somehow kicked into our path.

"It's a dwende! That's literally their thing!" I shot back, leaping over a pile of broken wood.

At one point, Vincent managed to get close enough to grab at the creature, only for it to dodge with a somersault and flick a clump of dirt at his face.

"Ugh!" Vincent sputtered, wiping his eyes. "This is why I hate the supernatural!"

"No, you hate running," I retorted, skidding around a corner.

The dwende dashed into an old shed, slamming the rickety door behind it. I threw my shoulder against the door, bursting inside, only to find it perched on a high shelf, still holding the legs and grinning like it had won the lottery.

"Now what?" Vincent panted, hands on his knees.

I scanned the shed. "We corner it. You distract, I grab."

"Oh, great plan," Vincent muttered. "What do I look like, bait?"

Before I could argue, the dwende lobbed a handful of what looked like sawdust directly at Vincent's face.

He screamed, flailing. "It's in my mouth! It's in my mouth!"

Seizing the moment, I grabbed a nearby broom and poked at the dwende's perch. It dodged, cackling, and leapt to another shelf, knocking over a can of paint thinner in the process.

"Stop laughing, you little gremlin!" I shouted, swiping at it again.

The chase continued in the cramped shed. At one point, Vincent grabbed a jar and tried to throw it, only to miss and accidentally break a window.

"That's coming out of your paycheck," I deadpanned.

"I don't work for you!" he snapped.

Finally, the dwende made a mistake. It tried to climb a precarious stack of boxes, only for the whole pile to collapse under its weight. With a surprised yelp, it tumbled to the ground, the severed legs scattering out of its grip.

"Gotcha!" I yelled, diving forward with the jar.

The dwende tried to scramble away, but Vincent, still furious about the sawdust incident, tackled it with surprising enthusiasm.

"Not so fast, you little nightmare!" he shouted, holding it down as I clamped the jar over its squirming body.

We both sat back, panting and covered in dirt. The dwende banged angrily against the glass, its tiny fists shaking in frustration.

"You think this thing works for her?" Vincent asked, eyeing the jar warily.

"Probably," I said, wiping sweat from my brow. "They're tricky like that."

"Well, tricky or not, it's not laughing now," Vincent muttered, glaring at the creature.

I glanced at the severed legs, then at the jar, then at Vincent. "Now, let's finish this before her top half finds us again."

"Fine," Vincent said, groaning as he stood. "But next time, you're the bait."

With the legs salted and garlic'd, and the dwende safely contained, we made our way out of the lot, ready to face whatever the shadows threw at us next.

The severed legs sat unnervingly still as Vincent and I prepared the salts and garlic. I poured a hefty dose into my palm, grimacing as the pungent smell hit my nose.

"This better work," Vincent muttered, standing a cautious step behind me. "If those things start moving, I'm out."

"They won't move," I assured him, though my voice lacked conviction. "They don't need to. Just watch."

I scattered the salt and garlic over the pale, sinewy flesh. At first, nothing happened. The silence was deafening, broken only by Vincent's nervous foot tapping.

Then the legs began to writhe.

The skin bubbled like boiling water, black veins crawling to the surface as if something sinister was trying to escape. The smell of burnt flesh and rot filled the air, and Vincent gagged, turning his head away.

"Holy—what is that?" he gasped, his face twisted in horror.

The legs twisted unnaturally, their form slowly collapsing in on itself. A viscous black liquid oozed from the melting remains, hissing as it touched the salted ground. Bones snapped audibly, splintering into fragments that dissolved like sugar in hot water.

"Yep. Definitely worse than the crime scene," I muttered, holding my breath as the last remnants dissolved into an oily puddle.

Vincent covered his mouth and nose with his shirt, his face pale. "Is it… dead-dead now?"

"Dead-dead," I confirmed, stepping back. "Without its other half, it's done for."

As the eerie silence settled again, we turned to the jar holding the dwende. The little creature sulked in the glass, its once-mischievous grin replaced by a pout.

Vincent peered at it and smirked. "Well, at least that guy isn't melting."

"Not yet," I quipped, earning a scandalized squeak from the dwende.

Back at the Karinderya

The small eatery was still lively when we returned, its warm yellow lights and the smell of grilled food a stark contrast to the grim scene we'd left behind. Lola sat at one of the plastic tables, tapping her fingers impatiently against a plate of half-eaten pancit.

"There you two are!" she barked the moment we stepped inside. "Do you know how long I've been waiting? You didn't even leave money for the food!"

Vincent groaned, rubbing his temples. "Lola, we had an emergency."

"An emergency?!" she shot back, standing up. "Do you know how embarrassing it is to sit here like some freeloader, waiting for two men who ran off in the middle of dinner?"

I held up my hands defensively. "Lola, we didn't mean to leave you hanging. It's just—"

"Just what?" she interrupted.

Vincent opened his mouth, but I shot him a warning look. No way we were dragging her into this mess.

"It's just that Vincent got sick," I lied smoothly. "Too much pancit. We had to find a pharmacy."

Lola raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And you didn't think to come back for me after?"

Vincent, who was halfway through pulling out his wallet, froze. "You could've gone home, you know. We're grown men. We can commute."

Lola's glare could've melted steel.

"Vincent!" I hissed, elbowing him. "What he means is that we didn't want to bother you."

"Oh, sure," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "So thoughtful of you."

As we sat down to smooth things over, the jar with the dwende tucked into my bag gave a sudden, loud rattle.

"What was that?" Lola asked, narrowing her eyes.

Vincent froze, his eyes darting to me. "Uh, just a loose bottle of water!" he blurted.

"A loose bottle of water?" Lola repeated, suspicious.

"Yep," I said quickly, standing up. "You know, we've got a long night ahead, so we should probably get going."

"Again?" Lola sighed, throwing her hands up. "You know what? Fine. But you two owe me. Big time."

"We'll pay you back," I promised, pulling Vincent toward the door.

"For the pancit?" she called after us.

"For everything!" I yelled back.

As we walked away from the karinderya, Vincent muttered, "You're the worst liar."

"Coming from the guy who nearly spilled everything about the dwende?" I shot back.

He groaned. "We need to get rid of that thing. And I need a drink."

"No drinks," I said firmly. "Not until we figure out what's going on. That thing in the jar might know more than it's letting on."

Vincent sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. But next time, we're eating somewhere that has actual napkins."

I couldn't help but laugh. For all his complaints, Vincent wasn't going anywhere.

The manananggal, wounded and weary from her earlier encounter, landed heavily in the forest clearing. Her leathery wings folded around her trembling form as she staggered toward the spot where she'd hidden her lower half. Her claws dug into the soil as she hastened her approach, her sharp breaths mixing with the night's eerie silence.

When she reached the area, she froze.

The ground where her lower half had been hidden was blackened, the grass singed and salted. The faint, acrid smell of burned flesh lingered in the air, cutting through the thick aroma of the forest. In the center of the clearing, only a pile of ash remained, scattered and lifeless under the moonlight.

"No…" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her crimson eyes widened in disbelief. She dropped to her knees, the sharp claws on her fingers digging into the dirt as if clawing her way back to reality. "No… they wouldn't… how could they?"

Her mind raced. These humans she had underestimated them. One possessed not just courage but power, an aura that pulsed with ancient strength. The glow of his tattoo still burned in her memory like a curse.

As realization dawned on her, her form sagged. She clutched her chest, her breathing shallow and ragged. The knowledge she had uncovered would die with her, and she knew it.

"The Sacramentum," she hissed, her voice filled with regret. "The one who carries it... the hunter... he walks among us again."

Her body began to convulse as the absence of her lower half took its toll. A guttural cry tore from her throat as her skin began to sizzle, her essence unraveling like threads of smoke pulled toward the heavens.

She thought of her brethren, the ones who shared her dark existence. They would never know what she had seen. They would remain blind to the danger that now stalked their kind.

Her vision blurred, the shadows of the forest closing in around her. Her body turned to ash, carried away by the faint breeze that whispered through the trees.

With her last fleeting thought, she cursed her weakness. She had failed to report what she knew the identity of the Sacramentum's possessor. That failure would haunt her final moments, even as her cursed life dissolved into nothingness.