From the distance, Millien had already found it.
He didn't even need to say much. The moment he stopped moving and looked back, Gino already knew he had located the other half.
The abandoned house wasn't far, but it felt different stepping into it. The air inside was stale, heavier, like something had been left there for too long and forgotten. Broken furniture, stacked boxes, dust thick enough to dull the floor, it was the kind of place people stopped caring about.
And right there, behind a pile of old crates, something was moving.
Not crawling.
Not running.
Just… pacing.
Back and forth.
Like it didn't know where to go.
Or maybe it did, but couldn't reach it.
The lower half of the manananggal stood there, grotesque and exposed. The severed waist looked raw, muscles and bone visible where it had been split, twitching every now and then like it was still trying to reconnect to something that wasn't there.
It was facing different directions as it moved, almost like it could feel where its upper half was calling from.
Trying to answer it.
Failing.
Gino didn't hesitate.
The moment he got a clear view, he opened the pouch and threw the salt straight onto the exposed waist.
It hit clean.
And the reaction was immediate.
A sharp, violent sizzle filled the room as the flesh began to burn, the blood boiling like it had been poured onto a hot surface. The smell hit just as fast, thick and nauseating.
Sarah turned away almost instantly, one hand covering her mouth as her face lost color.
"Okay...nope...nope," she muttered, stepping back. "That's...yeah, I'm not looking at that."
Gino didn't move, though his expression tightened. He watched it burn, making sure the salt spread across the entire opening.
The thing jerked violently, its movements becoming erratic now, less controlled, like whatever connection it had was being torn apart completely.
Millien crossed his arms, eyes fixed on it.
"Take it outside," he said calmly. "Let the sun finish it."
Gino glanced at him, then back at the writhing lower half. He didn't argue. He stepped forward, grabbed hold of one of its legs, and dragged it out despite the resistance.
It struggled.
Hard.
But it wasn't going anywhere anymore.
••••••
Back at the house, the night had settled into something quieter, though the tension hadn't left.
The manananggal's upper half was still there on the ground, restrained completely by the rope. Every now and then it would try to move, its body twisting, wings twitching uselessly, only for the rope to tighten further around it.
Each struggle made it worse for itself.
So it kept trying.
And failing.
We stayed a few steps away, watching it.
Waiting.
There wasn't much else to do now except let time pass.
Cynthia sat down beside me, her movements slower than before, the exhaustion finally catching up to her now that things had stabilized. She leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, her head dipping every now and then like she was trying to stay awake but losing the fight.
I glanced at her, then shifted a little closer.
"Just rest," I said quietly.
She didn't argue.
Didn't even respond.
Her head tilted again, this time further, and before she could completely slump forward, I reached out and gently guided it toward my shoulder.
She let it happen without resistance, settling there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her breathing evened out not long after.
I exhaled slowly, keeping still so I wouldn't wake her.
For a moment, things felt… calm.
Not safe.
Just calm enough to breathe.
"Kuya."
I didn't even need to look to know that tone.
Alicia floated closer, her eyes already narrowing in that way that meant she was about to say something I wouldn't like.
"…What?" I muttered.
She leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was about to reveal some big secret.
"Is Ate Cynthia your girlfriend?"
I turned to her so fast I almost shifted Cynthia with me.
"What?" I whispered sharply. "Where did you even learn that word?"
Alicia blinked at me, completely unfazed.
"From TV," she said like it was obvious. "And from the neighbors before. They always talk about it."
I stared at her.
"She's not...no. We're not...she's just…" I paused, realizing how that sounded. "…she's my teammate."
Alicia tilted her head, clearly unconvinced.
"But you're letting her sleep on you."
"…She's tired."
"And you didn't push her away."
"…Because she's tired."
"And you're talking quietly so she won't wake up."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
"…That's just basic decency."
Alicia's eyes lit up like she had just found a new angle.
"So you treat her special because you like her."
I rubbed my face with my free hand, already feeling where this was going.
"No," I said, keeping my voice low. "Friends take care of each other. That's it."
She hummed, floating in a slow circle in front of me.
"Then why don't you let Kuya Gino sleep on your shoulder?"
"That's not even...he wouldn't even...what kind of question is that?"
She ignored that completely.
"And you don't talk softly to him either."
"That's because he's not sleeping on me," I muttered. "And he snores."
"I don't snore," Gino's voice suddenly came from behind.
I stiffened.
Alicia burst into giggles.
I slowly turned my head and saw Gino, with a leg dragged like a baggage. Then, tossed it quite the distance away from the other half, followed by Sarah and Millien, who clearly having heard more than they should have.
"…How long were you all there?" I asked.
"Long enough," he said, grinning. "So, teammate, huh?"
I clicked my tongue and looked away.
"Shut up."
Alicia floated closer again, completely enjoying this now.
"So if she's not your girlfriend yet..."
"Not finishing that sentence," I cut in immediately.
"But what if she becomes..."
"Alicia."
She stopped, then giggled again, covering her mouth like she was trying..and failing... to behave.
"Okay, okay," she said, though the grin on her face said otherwise. "I'll behave."
I narrowed my eyes at her.
"You said that earlier."
"I mean it this time."
"Yeah, sure."
She floated back a little, still smiling to herself.
I sighed quietly and leaned back slightly, careful not to disturb Cynthia.
"…You're too young for this kind of conversation."
"I'm seven," she said proudly.
"Exactly."
She tilted her head again.
"But I've been seven for a long time."
That made me pause.
Just for a second.
Then I looked at her properly.
"…Yeah," I said quietly. "I know."
She smiled anyway, like it didn't bother her.
And just like that, the teasing faded.
The night stretched on, quieter now, the restrained manananggal still struggling in the distance, the air slowly shifting as time moved forward.
All that was left was to wait for the sun.
And end it.