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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Dante's steps echoed down the stone walkway as he left the administration building, the low hum of the campus receding behind him. His thoughts clung to the woman he'd encountered beneath the ancient Acacia tree, her quiet yet unnerving presence still lingering in his mind. Malalaman mo rin. The cryptic parting words floated back to him, intertwining with a discomfort that he couldn't quite shake.
Why had she looked at him that way, as if she'd known him long before he arrived? And why had she seemed so certain that he would understand her meaning? He couldn't place the feeling, but something about their exchange had left him feeling... vulnerable.
The campus was quieter now as he approached Freedom Hall. Students milled about in the distance, caught in their own worlds, and he took in the surroundings with fresh eyes. This was where he would be staying, the place he'd call home for the next few years. Yet, standing before the tall, foreboding structure of Freedom Hall, Dante felt more like an intruder than a resident.
The entryway loomed over him, a heavy stone arch etched with age. He paused, his gaze wandering to the faded crest above the doorway-a shield emblazoned with what appeared to be a faint outline of an ancient tree, its roots stretching downward like fingers digging into the earth. For a moment, he could almost feel it pulsing, alive and aware, like the Acacia tree on campus. The thought sent a chill up his spine.
Anong klaseng lugar ba ito? He shifted his backpack, glancing around before stepping forward. The halls beyond the entrance were dimly lit, and the air held a musty, closed-off scent, like it hadn't been aired out in years. Every sound seemed to be swallowed up by the building, as if Freedom Hall itself held its breath, listening.
Dante pulled out his phone, glancing at the directions he'd saved earlier. "Room 204..." he muttered, hoping to find his room quickly. But as he walked, the walls seemed to stretch endlessly, twisting in ways that made no sense. He passed one door, then another, each identical yet somehow unsettling. The corridor curved, leading him to another hall that felt both familiar and strange, as if he'd been here before in a half-remembered dream.
He finally stopped, his eyes trailing along the walls lined with faded photos in tarnished frames. Each photo held the stiff, solemn faces of students long gone, their expressions a blend of pride and unease. His gaze lingered on a few faces, noting the way their eyes seemed to follow him. He felt the weight of the building's history pressing down on him, a legacy he was now somehow a part of.
Ano kayang mga lihim ang itinatago ng Freedom Hall na 'to? He couldn't help but wonder. His Lola's stories floated back to him, tales she'd told him as a child. Stories of ancient beings who lived in the shadows, guarding their realms and watching over those who trespassed. She'd called them the Encantos, spirits who roamed places where worlds intersected. They weren't necessarily malevolent, she'd assured him, but they demanded respect. Bantayan mo 'yang mga mata mo, apo, she would say, her voice filled with the weight of generations. Huwag kang basta titingin kung saan-saan.
