Dante Reyes never expected his first year at Diliman University to spiral into a dark, supernatural mystery. What begins as an ordinary first day turns sinister when a mysterious mark appears on his hand, slowly revealing its true nature-he is conne...
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Dante Reyes had always imagined his first day at Diliman University as an exciting, maybe even liberating, experience. He had thought about the freedom of being on his own, in a big city far from the quiet, predictable life in Samar. But as he stepped onto the university grounds, his chest tightened with nervous anticipation. The towering buildings, the bustling students, the wide-open spaces—it all felt much bigger than he had ever imagined.
Clutching his phone, Dante fumbled through the campus map, trying to make sense of it. "Saan ba 'tong auditorium? Sobrang laki naman kasi nitong campus, para talagang maze," he muttered under his breath, squinting at the screen. The excitement he'd expected was still there, but now it was mingled with uncertainty. He'd never been in a place this large, where every corner seemed to lead into a new unfamiliar space. It felt like stepping into a different world, and he couldn't shake the feeling of being slightly... lost.
Adjusting the strap of his heavy backpack, he took a deep breath and reminded himself of why he was here. This was his opportunity—his chance to study at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. He'd worked hard to get here, to prove that he was ready for something more than the quiet, limited path that seemed to stretch endlessly back in Samar. Kung hindi para sa sarili ko, para kay Lola. The thought brought a flicker of warmth to his chest, pushing back the apprehension.
As he walked along the winding pathways, Dante couldn't help but notice how different everything felt compared to Samar. Back home, everyone knew each other, and life was simple—everyone had their own familiar rhythm. There was nothing like that here, he thought, as he took in the throngs of students rushing to and from different buildings, each lost in their own worlds and oblivious to him. The feeling was both liberating and a little terrifying. In Samar, he was surrounded by people who knew his story, the one his Lola loved to tell. But here, he was just another face in the crowd.
Back home, his Lola often gathered him and his cousins, telling tales by the light of a single flickering lamp. She'd lower her voice as if sharing a secret, and with a gentle smile, she'd talk about the night Dante was born. She'd describe the rain that poured down in torrents, drumming against the roof of their small house, and how a flash of lightning lit up the room just as Dante took his first breath. His Lola always insisted that it was a sign, something sacred about that storm and the faint spiral birthmark on his hand—a mark she claimed would tie him to something greater, beyond what he could see.
She had her own theories, whispering to him about the spirits of the forest and the Encantos who watched over the land. "Bantayan mo ang mga mata mo, apo," she would say, her tone half-serious, half-playful, "May mga bagay na hindi para sa lahat." Her stories left him both fascinated and uneasy, wondering if his Lola's tales were simply old beliefs—or if she knew something more about his connection to the unseen.
But here, in the bustling university, his birthmark felt insignificant, just as he did. There were no old stories, no guiding whispers, just an endless stream of strangers who knew nothing of who he was or the strange, mystical air that had always surrounded him back home.
