"I'm bored..." a boy sighed wishfully while seated by the window, watching as the rain quenches the thirst of the soft ground. The freshly wet soil gave off a weird smell but Lakan Bagidan has grown accustomed to it, liked it even.
"My apologies, Lakan Bagidan... I would have allowed you to practice outside but it seems the weather does not agree with my plans." A woman said softly while weaving a malong. Her long black hair lay on the floor and her face lacked the crease that other babaylans possessed.
"But you're a babaylan, right? If you can call rain, I bet you can send them away too." Bagidan looked at the babaylan waiting for an answer.
"I could... but that doesn't mean that I should... mana should not be used for our selfish needs."
"but it's just one day..."
"The whole land has been waiting for this rain for more than half a year... are you sure you want to make them wait a day more?" The comments made the boy think, it was not right for him to be selfish to his soon to be subjects but their blessing has become a hindrance for him.
Bagidan lay on the floor arms and legs open wide while staring at the roof "What about swordplay? You can teach me how to use a sword."
The babaylan paused and studied the boy's scrawny body "Unfortunately, no. You are still three years too early to learn swordplay." The babaylan continued her work.
"Is there anything that I can do here?" Time just flow like a puddle whenever you have nothing to do but observe it, but runs like a wild river when you turn away.
"Nothing... but I do... I can tell you a story..."
"You're only what? Two years older than my mother... what could you possibly know that she still hasn't told me?" Bagidan challenged the babaylan.
With a slight smile the babaylan finally set her work aside and stood "You might not be aware but the art of mana is not the only thing we babaylans know about... but also lore craft." The babaylan slowly approached the shelf to fetch an intricately designed urn "The histories, laws and legends of our people are passed down to every generation of babaylans... we are the preserver of our very culture... we- Oh! It seems I've run out..."
The babaylan returned the urn then approached the window "Hmm, this will do." With a wave-like motion of her arms from the window towards the room, the raindrops outside turned into a mist as it entered the room and surrounded the both of them. Bagidan watched in awe as the light from the fire reflected on the mist leaving an impression of different colors lingering in the air.
The babaylan motioned her arms slowly in a circle around herself and the droplets followed her lead "I can tell you the feats of our heroes..." In front of Bagidan materialized an image of a man standing a top a large headless body. In his right hand was his kris buried halfway into the giant's chest and in his left hand was it's monstrous head, but moments after the image vanished.
"But today I shall pass on to you the very first legend, of how everything came to be... are you ready, Lakan Bagidan?" The babaylan's eyes gave of a glint of mystery.
Filled with excitement and awe, Bagidan gave her an enthusiastic response.
"Then let us begin...Hiraya Manawari!" The room suddenly became dark. The light from the windows vanished, along with the fire, and the hut and everything else, even the sound of rain ceased. Bagidan's surrounding was covered in darkness and he could see nothing but himself and the babaylan still standing beside of where the fire was supposed to be.
