Prologue
They say that before the sky held light, before the sea had tides, there was Bathala—first breath of the world, unseen and eternal. Bathala was neither man nor woman, only the force from where all things awoke.
Before Bathala’s breath created the first mountains, only the sky, the sea, and nothingness were present. And with a single flick of a finger, the sky was split, the sea surrendered for the land, and nothingness remained, watching in silence as the void.
From the primordial chaos, life began to sprout. Mountains stretched toward the skies. Trees cloaked the plains in green. Together, the sky and its winged children exhaled into being. From the branches of trees, the first mortals took shape—breathed into life by the creator.
As mortals lit their first fire, Bathala watched in silence—veiled behind the curtained skies of Kaluwalhatian, realm of the gods and seat of the divine. No longer a hand, only a witness. Beside the creator stood four divine children: Apolaki, Mayari, Hanan, and Tala.
How would they shape the world further?
The sky would be the first to know.
The sky, once ruled by none, became the first battlefield. Apolaki, who hungered for dominion, clashed with Mayari, who sought only balance.
Their battle raged across days, then years, birthing light and shadow with each strike.
Mayari was the first to fall—her silver eye fell from the heavens before the ceasefire was ever spoken.
Before Bathala faded into memory, a final decree was settled: the sky would be shared by the divine twins. Apolaki, god of the sun, would rule the day; Mayari, mistress of the moon, would reign in the night. Though her eye was lost and her light dimmed, it still endured and adorned the stars.
Hanan, goddess of the dawn, became the quiet bridge between day and night—her light mending the divide the war had left behind. Tala, the youngest, took her place among the stars, sharing the weight of the night with her wounded sister. And so, with the heavens divided and the sky at peace, the world continued to bloom—perhaps faster than the gods intended.
Eons passed, and the world continued to blossom. The gods of old, once revered, faded into whispers. Few dared speak their names, and as their names were forgotten, so too were they. Yet somewhere beyond the veil, they waited. Watched. Listened.
Would their names be called upon again? Or would they forever fade into memory?
The story will soon unfold, through the eyes of a girl cursed with life.
