Moon-Eaters and Monsoons

MOON-EATERS & MONSOONS

by Rachel Evangeline Chiong

Nestled underneath a gauze of stars, the Gintuan Islands—named after its blazing golden sunsets—shone like precious stones among all the countries in the Mundo. In every country lived gods, whose health and happiness inexplicably reflected the country’s flourishing. From the dog-sized koi swimming in the hushed ponds of Ninemu, the fire-breathing ember-scaled dragon skulking the mountain range of Xie San, the pink-toed spider languishing within the jungles of Mheung Khao, to the Bakunawa—the great celestial-eating sea serpent of the Gintuan Islands, who surfaced from the ocean into the sky every solstice to whet its appetite with the moon. When the gods were happy, crops became bountiful, rain poured down, the trees grew firm with sap, and soft, fat animals multiplied.

So one season, to please the Bakunawa, the king and his council summoned every historian, artist, sky-reader, and architect across the islands to paint the palace ceilings a blue as deep as the ocean and a black as dark as morning-night, speckled with stars as bright as fireflies.

But as the construction progressed, mysterious maggots started to devour the rice fields and fierce monsoons flushed the capital with mud and disease. So the king and his council sent their finest veterinarians to the far corners of the islands to hunt the Bakunawa in hopes of discovering what had gone awry. 

It was in Gintuan’s southernmost point, where the islands narrowed and tapered off like the end of a snake, that the twins Amihan and Habagat found themselves staring down the shoreline awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

•••

Amihan’s knuckles had grown white from gripping the reins on his terra whale. He glowered at his brother’s silhouette against the afternoon sun. Habagat rode the animal with irritating confidence, having let go of the reins entirely to run his fingers through his short, wavy hair.

Amihan’s braid tickled his neck where sweat was beginning to prickle. His whole body was tense. His thighs stuck to the blubber of the terra whale that bobbed underneath him like a ship. Its stout and meaty gait left giant webbed footprints in the sand.

To Amihan, the terra whale was a terrifying creature. It stood twice his height, its length longer than three Laguna cows placed nose to tail. When he had tried to mount it earlier, its pebble-coloured, slippery flank had daunted him like an impenetrable wall.

The terra whales were the largest semi-aquatic animal in the Gintuan Islands—the in-between evolution of their whale kin. When the gargantuan fish decided to wander onto land, it grew limbs the size of tree trunks and knees as wrinkled as elephants, but with skin so absorbent it shone like marble. Ironically, some sentimental whale siblings longed for the ocean and eventually returned, shedding their fully mammalian nature; they became cursed with a blow hole. Their own biology forced them to remain near the surface, never to rejoin their ancient fish family who had disappeared somewhere along the deep, chilly waters of the north. But Amihan had seen the ‘cursed’ whales frolicking along the warm western coast, happy as could be, reveling in their fate.

He, on the other hand, sat miserably atop the smelly, moist animal, glaring at his brother.

Habagat had naturally claimed the front as they traveled in single file. The fresh air filled the easygoing twin’s lungs like a cool drink of water. It was a pleasant holiday compared to the city where the muggy atmosphere absorbed the pollution and heat like a sponge, he thought. 

Habagat had removed his shirt to let the rays warm him. The delightful heat spread from his shoulders to his chest like honey smeared on a soft pandesal. He stretched his hands over his head, letting the breeze cool his armpits. Here, he could actually smell nature with every lingering, content breath. The salty seaweed, the musk from the wet driftwood that washed up on the shallow, slowly sloping shore. Even the fragrant scent of the paste they had rubbed on their skin to protect them from the sun. Habagat recalled ruefully how Amihan stopped them before they left the ship. Habagat had to take a dollop of the sand-colored paste and hastily spread it over his arms and legs, faintly annoyed that they had to coat themselves with the filmy mixture. 

But Amihan had insisted. And if lathering on some horrid lotion was the price Habagat had to pay to pluck Amihan out of his lonesome laboratory and into an adventure that would save the nation, then he would do it.

Habagat craned his neck to check on his brother, who had been silent since they began their journey. “How’re you holding up, Amihan? You alright? We’re coming up to another island, so hold tight, you’ll be fine!”

Amihan kissed his teeth. His cheeks flushed. “Stop babying me, I know what I’m do—ahhh!”

His terra whale dove forward, having arrived at the end of the shore. Both whales ducked their heads underneath the water, tipping the twins in, before resurfacing. The terra whales paddled towards the neighbouring island like monstrous, naked ducks. Habagat unhooked his feet from the stirrups and swung around on his terra whale to face Amihan. He propped his legs up and rested his arms on his knees.

Lounging like we’re on a picnic! Amihan thought bitterly, as he met Habagat’s roguish grin.

Habagat threw him a bone. “Real nice, isn’t it? Finally, a chance to get out of the capital and away from all that construction, no?”

“Oh, sure,” Amihan replied.

“Did you get a chance to peek at the mural in the palace yet? I’ve heard the paint’s been specially engineered to sparkle like real stars. Did they make them at your lab? I haven’t even seen it yet. When I was there last, they rerouted the hallways so my little shortcuts to the grander rooms were all blocked off.”

“Habagat, I don’t get invited to the palace.”

“Come now, don’t be so humble.”

“I’m not. I haven’t been inside since we were children.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you skulking around the corners at the solstice bash.”

Amihan sighed. “Well, you’re mistaken, because I never go to parties.”

“Then, I’ll be sure to specially invite you to the next one.” Habagat released a satisfying groan as he stretched out on the terra whale’s rubbery back. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, people are beginning to forget I have a twin.”

Amihan looked away from his brother. He couldn’t bring himself to correct him. In fact, it had been years since the twins had spoken. 

Ironically, they had been inseparable as children. They were named after the two monsoons that dictated the lifecycle of the Gintuan Islands. Throughout the years, the twins had watched as the intertwining winds of their namesakes danced around the islands. The southwest habagat swept thunderously through the fields, irrigating crops and filling inland wells. Then following the hot monsoon’s billowing skirts, the northeast amihan crept in between mountains and inside valleys, cooling the land and softening the sun’s heat. People had watched with amusement as the twins mimicked this pattern. Habagat, storming through the capital’s gardens and alleyways headfirst, and like a friendly shadow, Amihan followed quietly in his wake.

But something had changed when the twins’ batoks surfaced. They were tattoo-like markings that emerged on the skin during puberty. Chosen children were blessed with powers and trained at the Academy to use their skills to care for the flora and beasts in the islands. When the twins woke up one morning, a string of vines appeared curling across Amihan’s collarbones, and a sinewy rope-like pattern snaked down Habagat’s right arm. That was the day their paths diverged.

At school, Amihan, who had always been shy, only became more morose until he was nothing more than a gloomy shadow haunting the class. He withered and buried himself in the lab and library, to pore over botany texts from dusk to dawn. Habagat, however, shone like the sun that emblemed the Gintuan Island’s golden arches. He dazzled teachers and peers, and could be easily spotted in the middle of an adoring crowd. Because Habagat’s department specialized in mammals, he had grown tan and sculpted from wrangling carabao and hauling sulcata tortoises across the campus.

Presently, Habagat relaxed shirtless on the terra whale’s back. Amihan turned his nose up.

“Could you take this a little more seriously?” he muttered. “We’re trying to save the island for gods’ sakes.”

“Mmm?” Habagat murmured sleepily.

“Forget it.”

Their terra whales continued up the shore onto the next tiny island. The trail that had looked feasible on the map stretched oppressively into the horizon. Amihan stared at the shoreline, watching the water foam up against the sand. Sweat gathered at the bridge of his nose, where his glasses slid down. His thighs painfully peeled away from the terra whale’s blubber every time he adjusted his position, and the baby hairs at the back of his head grew sweaty and stuck to his neck.

Irritated, Amihan tugged off his hair tie, unraveling the heavy, thick braid that had been lying limply on his shoulder. He grabbed a handful and twisted his wrist above his head until it gathered into a bun that he could secure with the tie. The soft breeze against the back of his neck felt like a tender kiss. A few curly bangs escaped and wisped by his forehead, but now he could see that the patches of islands had changed formation. 

The islands transitioned from sand to rocks. Shlap, shlap, shlap. The terra whales slapped their webbed feet against the granite. Uneven boulders, some towering above the twins’ heads, appeared on either side of their party and walled them in. Some were porous like honey combs, with little crabs and mud-skippers poking their heads out from the holes. Other boulders were speckled with barnacles, streaks of seaweed caught on its roughened edges.

Habagat, who had returned to sitting on his terra whale, pointed and waved his hand around as if he were giving a guided tour among the collection of rocky plateaus and jutting boulders. Amihan stared past him with a glassy, uninterested expression. But Habagat continued to prattle on all the same. He was feeling a giddiness take over him. The rocks reminded him of the stepping stones he and Amihan had skipped on as children when they crossed over canals in the capital. “These are all covered underwater during high tide, I believe.” Habagat said, raising his voice over the screaming seagulls that had swarmed the area. “Barnacles, mussels, oysters. It’s a buffet for all the gulls and ornery avians, no?”

Amihan scratched off a patch of red algae pasted to the rock beside him. “Wow, they don’t have this type of rhodophyta back in the city. They’re only found in cave lakes inside the mines.”

But Habagat wasn’t listening. 

“Look, Amihan, oysters!” Habagat’s eyes lighted on a shelf of bulbous, rough shells. “Oh, the gods are smiling down on us. These are your favourite aren’t they?”

“Well, they were…”

“Hang on, let’s take a closer look.”

Habagat coaxed his terra whale closer to the edge of the rocky island. It balked at the sudden movement, braying a sub-sonic moo, shifting its goliath body in the opposite direction. Without hesitation, Habagat placed his hand on the terra whale’s back. The black ink of his batok burst awake as its colour morphed into a warm, red light pulsing from the rope-like pattern down his arm. The terra whale’s skin immediately went rigid. Its muscles twitched underneath Habagat’s control as he directed it forwards.

Amihan took a sharp breath and looked away. Habagat’s power always freaked him out. He had the power of locomotion. At a touch, he could control an animal’s movement disregarding the creature’s wishes. He imagined what the creatures probably felt like: prisoners in their own body.

Habagat misread his brother’s expression. “Don’t be so shy—here, I’ll get some for you.” He wiggled and twisted a handful of oysters from the rock. “Remember how we used to pick these off ice trays in the palace? You would stuff yourself so much, we’d get scolded and shooed away.” Habagat smiled fondly. “They’d always let you off easy though. Because you were the cuter one when we were kids. And now look, we can have as many as we want, no titas for miles to tell us off.”

“It’s fine, you can have them. I can’t even eat them.”

“Amihan, we’re veterinarians for gods’ sakes. We won’t be irresponsible. I only took a few.”

“No, I actually can’t eat them. They make my stomach hurt.”

“What?”

Amihan sighed. Every bit of this mission was becoming a form of torture. “I just sort of started getting sensitive to them, I guess. I don’t know, I stopped eating them when we went to school, since they’re so expensive and like I said, I didn’t go anywhere fancy.”

“But that’s not—”

“Not what? Possible? Well, we haven’t really spoken to each other in years.”

Habagat shook his head. “Don’t be such a sourpuss. Here, I’ll crack this one open and we’ll split it. Just have a little bit. Trust me, it’s worth it. It’s like the Mundo’s ocean in your mouth.”

Amihan rolled his eyes, looking around for anyone in the empty seas to talk some sense into his brother. Habagat procured a butterfly knife from his belt and worked at the oyster. He cradled it in his palm, guiding the sharp edge across the oyster’s lip.

“Now this one’s a little jammed. But you gotta get it at an angle and it’ll—gods!” The knife slipped off the side and lodged itself between his thumb and finger. He dropped the oyster. It bounced off the rock and into the water. He hissed, shaking his wrist from the pain.

“Are you okay?” Amihan coaxed his terra whale nearer to Habagat’s until the animals’ shoulders touched. The blood had begun to well from the cut and streak down Habagat’s forearm, staining the black ribbons of his batok. “Habagat, let me take a look at it. I have disinfectant in my bag.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll just wash it out.”

But Amihan had already begun to shake the bottle of alcohol he had fished from his satchel. “Hold on, I also brought some solvent I made the other day.”

“Amihan, don’t worry about it. It’s all right, I’ve had worse. The salt in the ocean water will disinfect the wound, no?”

Amihan paused mid-shake. “Gods, how did you pass your classes? You’re going to pour the same water that fish die, crap, and bleed in onto your open wound?”

Habagat grinned wolfishly. “I’m joking.”

“Give me your hand.” Amihan snatched Habagat’s hand firmly. “Hold still.” He pressed his skinny fingers against Habagat’s large, calloused ones. In the lab, Amihan had grafted plants into rice-paper thin samples underneath a magnifying glass. Keeping Habagat’s hand still despite his protests was easy work. With a soaked, tinny smelling rag, he wiped away the blood, cleaning out the bits of grit from the oyster shell that had lodged itself inside Habagat’s pink flesh. Habagat cursed as the stinging coursed all the way up to his shoulder.

“I finished the mix for this solvent last week, so it should heal faster.”

“It’s really not necessary, Amihan.”

“I don’t care. I’ve been working on this batch for weeks, so let me use it.”

“Honest, I’ll be fine.”

Amihan ignored him, unscrewing a tin he balanced on the top of his palm. He dipped two fingers in, scooping out a healthy portion of eggshell-coloured cream. As he spread it over Habagat’s hand, the inky leaves on Amihan’s collarbone began to glow a soft green. His batok came to life underneath his shirt, like muted fireflies hidden beneath the linen. The cream changed colour from white to a deep green and instantly dissolved into Habagat’s skin. 

Habagat felt it sear his hand like a scalding cup of tea. In a moment, the sensation was over. His breath caught as the wound closed over and scabbed completely. He had only heard stories from the other departments about how quickly Amihan had fine-tuned his batok. With the power to accelerate the healing properties of plants, what a formidable army of albularyos would take days to accomplish, Amihan could do in seconds.

“There.” Amihan placed his brother’s hand back to his side. “That should do it.”

Habagat nursed his hand, staring at the scab. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Amihan said. “Don’t mention it.”

“Well,” Habagat took the reins of his terra whale, “I guess we better go. Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “The map says we’re nearing the Bakunawa’s haunt, so keep your eyes peeled. It could be near the shore or around—ahem.” Habagat pressed his lips together, stifling a coughing fit.

“You okay?”

“My throat,” Habagat touched his Adam’s apple. “It’s really itchy.” He glanced back down at his hands, his eyes widening. Where Amihan had just healed his wound, angry, red bumps ran up his fingers to his forearm. His skin was goose-bumped. It felt like it was on fire. He balled his other hand into a fist to stop himself from scratching. “What was in your—ahem—what was in that mixture?”

Amihan shook his head. “But you’re not sensitive to anything.”

“Amihan. What was in it?”

“Simple stuff: ginger, aloe vera, adder oil, star anise—”

“I’m allergic to star anise.”

“But you’re not allergic to anything! You’ve never been.”

Habagat rubbed his bulging arm, unsmiling. “Well, we haven’t spoken in years.”

“Habagat, I’m so sorry. I might have something to neutralize it.”

“No, it’s fine.” Habagat turned away brusquely as he felt his eyelids and lips begin to swell. “You’ve helped enough.”

•••

The rest of the trip dragged on miserably. Amihan scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of the Bakunawa in the still water. All the while Habagat sat in front rigid and silent, with the occasional hacking cough as the only proof that he was still alive. Each aggressive grunt sent pangs of guilt Amihan’s way.

As if to make things worse, the boulders underneath them had grown slippery and barely fit the both of them at once. Their terra whales struggled to find purchase on the curved stones. Amihan gripped the reins, wishing with all his might that he wouldn’t capsize in front of his brother.

Up ahead, Habagat squinted through his swollen eyelids, barely making out the sunset. They had been traveling for hours now, and the sandy shores were miles behind them. They balanced perilously on the skinny strip of rocks that continued without end. Every side was completely surrounded by the ocean. The golden hour set the water ablaze. The seagulls had gone. The water was so still that it created an almost perfect mirror of the sky, until they couldn’t tell where the sky and water began.

An itch burbled up in Habagat’s throat. He bit his lip to stop it, but was too late and he exploded into a phlegmy cough.

“Gods! Habagat, are you okay?”

Habagat whirled around at his brother. “No, I’m not, Amihan. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you lathered me in poison earlier. I can barely see anything past my hand, not to mention spotting a crumb of the Bakunawa. We are going to fail this mission because you had to butt in with your potions.”

“Because of me?”Amihan gaped. “I was trying to save you from dumping the entire zoology of the Mundo into your open wound. And because of my ‘potions,’ we’re just going to automatically fail the entire mission? Because your useless, hapless brother used his silly little plant powers on you?”

Habagat rolled his eyes. “Come now, that’s not what I said.”

“But that’s probably what you feel, right? Listen, Habagat, I know that you were excited that we got assigned together, and you know what, I was too. But you always ruin things because you always have to be so in control.”

“No, Amihan, I won’t hear it. Stop being so ungrateful, I’m doing all of this for you—”

“But that’s it, you don’t have to do anything! You always have to be doing something, always have to be helping someone.”

Habagat scoffed and spread his arms out. “Helping someone? Look at me! This is what happened when I let someone help me. Didn’t you ever once consider asking me how I felt about anything? You’ve barely talked to me for years.”

“How could I? You weren’t around! You never were!”

Heated, Habagat slid off his terra whale. Amihan followed suit until they were standing face-to-face. “I was always looking for you, Amihan. You were the one who was never around. You were always scurrying yourself to some corner or locking yourself in the lab. I ended up leaving you alone, because I thought you wanted to be alone.”

“Well, if you had just asked me. If you weren’t busy being so perfect, you’d find out exactly how miserable I felt.”

“All right, Amihan,” Habagat crossed his arms. “How do you feel?”

“I’m SICK of you.”

“Great! So. Am. I.”

The water below them gurgled.

The brothers froze. Amihan motioned to the seemingly still water beside them. “Did you hear that?”

An uneasy silence followed.

“Do you have the map?” Habagat asked.

Amihan fished it out of his pack and rolled it out between the both of them.

“Something’s been bothering me. We passed this bit a while ago.” Habagat pointed to the bottom of the map where the tail of the islands capped off and faded into the empty ocean. “But the trail of islands we’ve been following aren’t documented on the map. I just assumed the tide was unusually low today and it uncovered deeper formations.”

Amihan gripped the map. “Don’t move.”

“What?”

“I think we’ve found the Bakunawa.” Amihan’s forehead was pale and rigid.

Habagat seized up, meeting Amihan’s gaze. They breathed shallowly. Lips parted. Amihan whispered. “We’re standing on it.”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them began to shake. The gurgling transformed into a tremor below their feet, as the miniature rocky islands they had traversed undulated in the sea. Behind them, far from where they had come, the islands started to disappear under the water. From tiny specks winking out of view, they became boulders speeding towards the brothers at an alarming rate as plateaus were pulled under and waves surged closer.

“Move, move, move, move!” Habagat pushed Amihan towards his brother’s terra whale. Habagat stumbled back to his own, grabbing for the stirrup. He bit through the pain as it slammed against his wound.

The Bakunawa’s tail recoiled and raised out from the water, so high it disappeared into the clouds. The twins barely had time to whisper a prayer before the giant creature whipped its tail down onto the ocean, breaking the surface with a thunderous clap.

Habagat felt his body grow weightless. He had been catapulted into the air. The sunset’s golden rays flashed violently in his face for a brief moment. He was flying! 

No, he was falling. 

His cry was cut short as his body landed back into the water with a violent slap that knocked the air from his lungs. He twisted around as the waves shoved him against the blubbery belly of his terra whale. His eyes stung when they opened from the shock. Before him, he barely made out the giant sea serpent. It was as long as a mountain range, as wide as a river, its yellow eyes like two sunken suns peering angrily down from above.

Habagat kicked his legs forward and grabbed the terra whale’s saddle as it bobbed back to the top. Amihan also resurfaced hacking and coughing. He was yelling something unintelligible in the surge of the waves.

“What?” Habagat called.

“The scales!” Amihan pointed below. “I saw it underwater. Its scales are all screwed up. They’re protruding outwards like pineapple leaves. I think it’s bloated.”

“Gods, that means there’s something wrong with its organs.”

“It could be infected.”

“I can try to get it to stay still,” Habagat said.

“This is a god, Habagat.”

“Well, I have to try. You won’t be able to treat it thrashing about.”

As if on cue, the Bakunawa’s spine reared up through the surface, sea foam spraying everywhere. Amihan nodded, grabbing his satchel as it floated by. Habagat jumped from his terra whale, landing knee first onto the Bakunawa. He winced through the jolt in his shin, as he clambered up the creature’s deep blue scales, beautiful and dazzling when exposed to the sunset. Each single scale was the diameter of his entire arm. He placed his hands on the beast and took a deep breath.

Amihan clambered up the side of the Bakunawa, grasping on the crooked scales like rungs on a ladder. He inched his way around to search for an opening. “Habagat,” he called over, “I’m going to try and inject this antibiotic. I just need a second for it to stay still.” With a needle the size of his forearm in one hand, Amihan popped a corked bottle with his teeth and poured its contents into the needle’s barrel. He repeated the step, emptying another bottle until he filled it to the brim.

Habagat’s batok awoke, red as gumamelas in the dying light. He shut his eyes, trying to drown out the rumble of the Bakunawa, the rushing sound of the current, the stinging of the salt water on his rashes, as he willed the god to stay still.

Somewhere from below, Amihan yelled. “I’m going to inject it!”

The Bakunawa protested. Its spirit shoved back at Habagat’s will, sending a splitting migraine through his skull. He cried out. He grasped tightly onto its scales, as the serpent shook angrily. 

Below, Amihan gasped for air as he was plunged back into the water. He pressed his body against the scales, gripping the needle under his arm, while the Bakunawa thrashed around.

He resurfaced, coughing up salty seawater and the metallic taste of blood. “Habagat!”

“I’m sorry!” Habagat called back. “I—I’m, it’s fighting back, it’s—I’ll try again.” He placed his hand on the beast’s scales once more, his batok glowing weakly and fizzling out. He cursed, straining over and over again, wrestling with the Bakunawa’s will. He had settled colossal crocodiles in their casts so their injuries would heal correctly and soothed pregnant goats through painful labour. This shouldn’t have been outside his scope. This couldn’t be impossible for him.

The god reared its back, once more slamming the ocean down on the twins. Habagat’s chest felt like it was going to burst as he swallowed a mouthful of salty water. He took a long breath, swelling his belly, forcing the clear air in as deeply and fully as possible. He focused his batok again. The red light beat stubbornly against his skin. He pictured the Bakunawa, like an eel, flopping out of water. He pictured holding it down between the ground and his hand, forcing it still. 

The Bakunawa lashed back. A pain seared through his hand and he grabbed his wrist. The image in his mind faltered. Cursing, he stared down at his palm. The scar Amihan had healed glistened against the salt water.  He remembered Amihan’s gentle fingers, holding his own shaking ones firmly. He pictured Amihan holding his hand. He pictured them as children side by side, when they lay on the soft Gintuan clover, gazing up at the night sky. A time before bitterness and differences had wedged them apart. 

His batok blazed.

Below, Amihan fought against the waves. His hair tie had broken, plastering his hair over his face like a clump of seaweed. “Habagat, please,” he whispered. He wheezed every word as he pulled himself back against the Bakunawa. “Come on, you arrogant, irritatingly handsome, perfect, controlling, hard-headed brother. Now is the time to show off, NOW.”

A red as bright as the fiery Gintuan sun surged above, and for a second the Bakunawa stood still. Amihan plunged the needle into the god’s skin. 

It rumbled in anger, as Amihan slammed his body against the tube, injecting the glowing liquid into its body. Luminescent sea green beams shone from Amihan’s collarbones, as his batok lit up and the medicine disappeared into the Bakunawa.

The sea serpent arched back. It roared into the night, before diving back into the water to disappear somewhere on the ocean floor.

•••

When Habagat came to, he was covered in a sheen of sweat, lying with his back against his terra whale. He found himself staring up at the night sky. Beside him, Amihan’s terra whale floated like a raft. His twin was watching him from across the water. 

“No one warned me muscle was so heavy,” Amihan said. Bruises covered his chin and forehead. “I think I pulled my shoulder hauling you out of the water.”

Habagat turned to look at his brother. “Amihan…”

Amihan rushed on. “I snagged a sample of the Bakunawa’s blood and ran a test while you were out. It was overrun with the same material they’re using to paint the palace. I know they’ve been dumping the excess into the water, so the Bakunawa must have ingested a bunch during its migration.”

Habagat shifted his gaze to the horizon. The seconds passed as he followed where the water broke up the sky. “Ironic isn’t it?” he murmured. “The thing that we thought would make our god happy was killing it. Can’t imagine they’ll take that well when we get back.” 

The waves lapped at the terra whales bobbing serenely in the water, as Habagat turned his eyes back to the sky and gazed at the million pricks of light winking beneath the endless velvet. “You really never saw it? The mural?”

Amihan smiled. “I have. I’m sorry I lied. I ventured into the palace a while ago looking for you, and I caught a glimpse of it by accident. You’re not missing much though,” he stretched his fingers above them. “It’s nothing compared to this.”

Habagat’s mouth formed a reply, but the words never made it out. He imagined himself, wandering quiet laboratory hallways while Amihan braved the palace in his absence. Like two bangka at dawn, one arriving just as the other departed shore. He let out a sudden giggle. 

Amihan sat up, startled. He splashed water in Habagat’s direction. “Don’t scare me like that, you jerk!” His shoulders shook too, the adrenaline wearing off as tears and laughter spilled from his face.

The twins laughed into the night, as the terra whales lazily returned them to shore. They talked about nothing and everything underneath a shawl of stars, the distance from the past years melting away between them.