Ritual
A void that contains both nothing and everything at once; that was how Alex Key had described the Diwata. A demon that wears nothing but an eye, is how Cortes had written of him in his journal, the journal that the hero Lapulapu had claimed and passed down generations until it was hidden away for everyone’s good.
But he had always been Tatay to me.
And now they see Him in all His glory. The branches from the growing trees above us fuse and connect, binding together to form something that boasts no human shape. The foliage around it thickens until oval-shaped leaves look down upon us like a canopy—still forming the shape of an eye, but an eye that is now flowering, growing evergreens. It shifts and twists and breathes like a living thing.
A huge portion of the tree—half the height of the cavern—detaches itself from the cave wall. But when it lays a hand on my head, it is gentle. As always. ’Tay’s hand feels leathery, but cool to the touch.
With an angry roar, Hemslock snatches the flamethrower from Gries, but it is not powerful enough to blast the ceiling, and Father remains unscathed.
Cheated of his target, Hemslock spins back to us, the flames aimed our way.
“I’ll burn everything down,” he threatens. “I’ll destroy the whole island, turn it into a barren wasteland.”
I don’t move. I don’t need to.
The attacks come. Massive roots rise in the air like anacondas, tails ending in sharp stakes. Hemslock burns the first dozen, but he is too slow against more. They tear into him, and he drops his weapon, the flames sputtering out. I can see him struggling, trying to summon the power to force the creatures to carry out his will. None of them listen.
I say nothing; I concentrate.
The roots wrap around him more securely, his arms bound tightly against his body until all you can see of him is his stark, enraged face staring back at us. I gesture with my hand and more thick vines encircle his legs.
A growl echoes from deep within the ruins of Askal’s face. A thick root sprouts up from its center, something sharp like teeth at its end, drawing closer to Hemslock’s face.
“It was you,” Chase whispers. “When I was attacked in the cabin—the vines beat them away. That was you.”
“I don’t understand,” Gries rasps. “You can control them?”
“No.” It takes immense effort to focus, to make sure that my hold over them doesn’t slip. It’s fortunate that the rest of the soldiers are no longer fighting, their bullets gone. They stand petrified with terror. “Only when he lets me.”
“Your father is the Diwata.” It hurts to hear Chase speak like this—like I’ve betrayed him, though that’s exactly what I‘ve done. “When you told me that he was weak—that he’d been sick for a very long time—this was what you…”
I don’t look at him, not wanting to see his face now that he knows how I’d misled him. I look up at the moving, twisting darkness above me. “Does it have to be this way?” I ask Him. “We have a sacrifice already. Enough to sustain you for a long time. Surely that’s enough?”
The cave walls shift, a ripple going through them like they were made of water. With it comes a heavy, rustling sound, like that of a thousand makahiya opening and closing, leaves scraping against each other.
“Pagod na ako, ’Tay. Sobra na ang kamatayan dito.”
More rumblings, murmurs from around us.
“What did you say?” Chase asks. “What is he saying?”
“I told him that I’m tired of all this death. He says that it is not on me to plead for who dies and who does not when they are all guilty. That I am here because I am His child and His conscience, but it is He who punishes.”
I turn back to the cave. “I am your conscience,” I affirm in English this time, again for Gries’s and Chase’s benefit. “You said you feared that your long absence had turned you cruel, that you would no longer listen. The cruelty is what they will remember of you. Gods forgive because they see humans for what they are: foolish. Please forgive them.”
A rattling sound from above us.
“Yes, ’Tay. This is what it means to be family. To listen to those who care for you. I’ve never asked you for anything before. Please.”
The roots overhead writhe quietly, the balete’s movements slowing as Father mulls my words. And then another rumbling, almost a purr, resounds throughout the cavern.
The cocoon dissipates, and Hemslock sprawls on the ground.
The teeth retreat back into Askal. The mass of roots disappears, and flesh shifts back into Askal’s dog form. He barks smugly.
“You’re too kind,” Chase says. “If I were a god, I would have murdered him without guilt.” Another rumble sounds, and he looks alarmed. “Not that I’m disagreeing with your decision!”
“Yes,” I say, smiling now. “He knows.”
A choked laugh from Hemslock interrupts us. “The deaths of the cultists had always been a mystery…but it was you. The years line up. I should have realized it sooner.”
“What does he mean?” Gries asks.
“Your precious little guide. The baby that was thought to have been sacrificed nearly two decades ago along with his mother.” Hemslock staggers to his feet, still weak. One of his soldiers approaches him, but he waves him off. “Always wondered what happened to you. Wondered why my aunt was brought to that old woman when the god could have killed her on the island. There had to be a reason, and now I know. Your god sent Lindsey Watson back because she had to send you back—not a dead baby, but one alive and well.”
“Alon?” Chase asks, stunned.
“That’s why you have free reign of the island. Why the villagers speak little of you and where you came from. They’re all in on it. Just like how they shut up about Alex Key. This god is fond of you. He feels responsible for you, doesn’t he? Like a parent, since your mother died for his sake. The Diwata is using you to reestablish a connection with humans.” Hemslock no longer looks homicidal, brows furrowed as if he is newly contemplating all that happened. “And you think sparing me was gonna be your act of kindness? I would have killed you. Should have. Wouldn’t have thought twice afterward.”
“I know what it’s like to be surrounded by death.” I look around, at the tree creatures who are still silent, still paying reverence to Father. “All this isn’t worth it. My father didn’t need sacrifices because I was here with him. But he won’t spare you a second time. Leave while you still can.”
“Hey.” Chase’s hand splays across my sides. The vines have dropped away from me, revealing my now-uninjured stomach. “How…?”
“Balete and their healing properties, or so the legends say,” Leo Gries says, understanding. “Are you immortal?”
“I don’t know. I’m aging, but I don’t know what that means in the long run or if that will stop one day. Father doesn’t always explain. He wants me to learn on my own.”
“It’s true, then. The cult believed that they could gain something from the ritual. But the powers they thought they would receive were transferred to you instead.”
Chase’s voice trembles. “But your grandmother—you knew who she was when you saw the video. Does she know about—”
“Yes. She wouldn’t have said anything. She raised me for the first half of my life. She knows.” I look to Chase and take his hand. “I’m sorry. I knew you would never have trusted me, but I didn’t know how to explain without giving away my secret.”
“I’m already over it.” His hands slide up to my face, cradling my cheeks gently. “And I understand why you had to do what you did. You—you stayed with him because you wanted to teach him compassion. I mean—who the hell does that?”
“I only helped Him relearn it.”
“And—Askal?”
“They used to bury pets on the island after they die. Askal and I grew attached to each other.” My dog beams.
“Still too humble for your own good,” Chase says, smiling. “I’ve never actually kissed a demigod before, you know. Rory and Jordan are constantly telling me to try something different, and this sounds about as different as it gets.”
My smile fades. “Chase—I can’t—”
Hemslock leaps for us without warning. He’s out of bullets and his flamethrower has been taken away, but he pulls a hunting knife from his boot. With a growl, he lunges his blade at me—
—and something rips open within him in response. He freezes, mouth dropping open. Copious amounts of blood fall from his lips, splashing onto the floor.
A large root has extended from Askal, his puppy facade disappearing briefly to reveal his true nature once more. He impales the man cleanly through the chest, the sharp tip sticking out from his back. Hemslock dangles in the air, his feet kicking uselessly as he gurgles.
As is his nature, the Diwata chooses violence.
I don’t feel anger, only sadness that it had to come to this, that the man had not learned from his reprieve. Hemslock glares at us with hate-filled eyes, still struggling to form words for one last rage-filled tirade about what he did or didn’t deserve. We never get to hear it. The light slowly fades from his eyes, his body sags, and his head lowers as the last breath leaves him.
I look at the other soldiers, on the off chance that they are tempted to follow their leader. But they seem to understand that the fight is over; the last four survivors slowly lower their weapons to the floor and raise their hands.
“We’re done,” one of them says. “We want out of here just as much as you do.”
With a sickening sound, Askal drops Hemslock’s body onto the ground.
“Did you do that?” Chase asks softly, though something in his voice tells me that the question is strictly rhetorical.
“No,” I say quietly. “Askal has always done what he wanted to do.”
Askal whines happily, settling back into his dog shape.
“Chase, Alon.” Gries gestures urgently at the cave. “We have to go.”
Chase steps toward his father.
I don’t. “No.”
Chase turns, surprised. “What do you mean? They should have another helicopter here by now. Maybe even boats. We gotta let them know we’re okay and that Hemslock is—”
I am already shaking my head. “No. I can’t go with you.”
Chase stares at me. “You can’t,” he says, voice hitching. “Why would you stay here after everything?”
“Because he’s my father. I can’t leave.” I lift my hand. Roots from the ground crawl up my leg, curl themselves against my palm. “You know what’s going to happen. The island will draw attention now. Whatever the show would have done, this will be bigger. They’ll want to know who I am. I’m not blind to see how the media will take this. One of Hollywood’s celebrities died on this island. They’ll bring more people here. There’ll be more deaths. I need to stay and protect him.”
“You can’t protect the Diwata on your own!”
“Yes, I can. By barricading this island. By making it impassable so it will be difficult for others to attempt. By using whatever means I have to make sure there will be fewer deaths if they risk it anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” Leo Gries says. “Your father wants there to be more deaths. Didn’t you say that those eight sacrifices will fully awaken him? Why would you want to delay that?”
“I know it’s inevitable. There will always be people like Hemslock, who are greedy and power hungry and will never listen. But I can prevent the deaths of those who don’t have to die. ’Tay’s been sleeping for a very long time. He can sleep a little longer.”
Gries nods slowly. “You could have finished the ritual by letting it kill me. Instead you saved my life. Seventh to consume. Hemslock let his rage consume him, but I let my grief over Elena consume me too—it’s the same thing, isn’t it? It could have been either of us. It could still be both of us.”
I don’t say a word as he stands there, processing. “I think your wife will agree with me,” I finally say, gently, “that your son needs you now more than ever.”
“No,” Chase shoots back. “We can’t leave you here! Even if you’re right about people coming to find the treasure or the god for themselves, you’ll still be in danger. I can’t—I don’t want to leave you!”
I lean toward Chase and kiss him. He clings to me greedily for a minute, as if he never wants to let me go.
Another unexpected earthquake sends both father and son stumbling. I remain upright and grab Chase before he can fall.
Some of the trees still burn, though most were on their way to being extinguished. One has toppled over without warning and triggered the explosives—likely set as a failsafe on Hemslock’s part.
I look back at the large eye above us, the writhing branches. And I know: ’Tay will never let me leave. Will never let me spend the rest of my life outside of Kisapmata, with Chase.
But I also know what I have to do.
“Please,” Chase begs. “Please, come with us.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, smiling. “I was alone for the longest time. I thought I didn’t mind. But you are the first outside of my family to care for me. You made me understand that I can be much more than I was. And I will always be grateful to you for it. Now go.”
I push him back to his father, just as another tremor rocks the cave.
The ground between us splits, and another sinkhole appears, rapidly widening. Gries yanks Chase out of harm’s way, the growing distance between us ensuring that my decision is final.
“Thank you,” Gries calls out to me. “Thank you so much. We won’t—we’ll try—”
“I’ll find you again,” Chase shouts back at me as his father pulls him into the tunnels, the soldiers quick on their heels. “I don’t care how long it takes! If you intend to park your hot, immortal ass inside this cave and wait for your dad to wake up, then I’ll come back and drag you and your dog out myself!”
They disappear into the passageway as the walls continue to tremble. The trees watch them leave, content to sway in an unseen wind, waiting for everything and nothing at all. With Askal alert and expectant at my side, I turn back to Hemslock’s body, the machete in my hands.
I see them. I see rescuers guiding them toward a waiting helicopter. I see both Melissa and Hawaiian Shirt still waiting for Chase and his father, holding true to their promise not to leave the island without them.
I see Melissa talking to Chase. I see Chase, heartbroken, shaking his head. I watch Melissa’s face fall.
Before long they are all on the helicopter as it readies for its final journey away from the island. I see Chase turn his head to look back one last time.
He sees the roots growing over the entrance of the cave, wound so thickly and tightly that no gaps show through, preventing anyone else from entering.
He sees the sinkhole and the corpse tree entombed within, slowly gathering in sand and soil, until the sand lies smooth and even, like no hole had ever existed.
And then he sees me standing on top of the cave, on the one lone mountain on the island rising hundreds of feet above the trees. I watch him fly away from me as the helicopter rises higher, until the clouds obscure his view of Kisapmata, until there is nothing but an eye of an island staring up into the sky from waters of unwavering blue.