The Shattering

Dry. I felt dry. I tried to squint realizing that my eyelids felt as if I hadn’t washed a month’s worth of makeup away from my face. I am assuming it’s my black liquid eyeliner and mascara that is encrusting my eyes creating a very gritty feel and making them stubbornly stuck to my face. I soon realize they have just adhered together. Raising my hands to my face to clear my eyes, my limbs felt heavy. With every movement, I feel even sorer. I finally push myself enough to rub my eyes and a black crust and something that looked like dirt crumbled onto my tanned hands. As I inspect the dirt closer with foggy and unfocused eyes, I begin to make out a streak of purple glitter running between the crust.

“Crap”, I screech out loud as I continue to scrub my face on what I now realize is my filthy blouse as I try in vain to remember the night before. Sighing, I bemuse myself over the love I once had for the blouse. Black soft cotton with princess sleeves. “Fiddlesticks”, I curse. My long-ago grandmother would be proud of my refrain on harsher words I could use for my predicament. I tried again, to recollect last night. Everything was a blur of black smoke.

Feeling like an eternity, I was able to open my eyes. Everything around me was in disarray. Confusion over the destruction was so strong it made me linger in a hyperventilating response resulting in an oversensitive realization of being parched. The dryness of my pallet tasting sour and of bile. With squinted eyes, I searched for water. My need for liquid left muted by the sight of destruction littered about me.

Dismayed, I paused taking notice of a large red fox with two tails whooshing back and forth. Whipping here and there with a need to hypnotize me. Around the miraculous animal colorful broken glass lay. But he did not hesitate over the hazards at his feet. Glaring at me with a glowing intensity he resembled a feline ready to strike with fur shining as if touched by moonlight. A kitsune? I pondered on the powerful image he displayed as I look at the tails. I jerked upright only to be greeted with a mouthful of sharp teeth, his growl scared me closer to the overturned chaise behind me. My body shaking with fear and unable to move.

Recognizing the velvet chaise, my thoughts raced. My parent’s house. What happened! My parents? My sister? Flashes of last night greeted my mind. An explosion, myself running downtown, arriving at my parent’s house, and then another explosion that made my world go black in the darkness of smoke.

Shaking I reached inside my blouse and felt for my necklace, thank the goddess. The gold heart locket was still nestled between my breasts. Two pictures remaining safe inside, my parents resplendent in their wedding attire and the other of myself and my sister. I rubbed my forefinger along its etching of the rose gold Canloan Century Belete tree with white gold leaves. The tree a Filipino monument of nature. A garnet shimmering at the heart of the tree as my finger traced it, a symbol of our home. On the back was an engraving – YOU ARE BLESSED. My sister had the same one. We hadn't taken them off since our tenth birthday.

“Rats in a basket” I hissed. My eyes lingered on the pictures of my parents then over to my sister’s face. Much like mine since we are twins. Her with pale skin, green eyes, and light red hair, an oddity amongst Filipinos. My family are healers, and we look at her unusual coloring as a good omen. Shamans, healers with red hair are like the kitsune…

Testing my legs, I noticed my left knee was bandaged with four long, large scratches running from the top of my thigh to the cut-off denim shorts ended at my knee and my favorite pair of boots were missing. Meaning I didn’t have my switchblades along with the black boots. For the love of chicken boxes, I LOVE MY BOOTS AND BLADES. With a growl, I looked up to check the forgotten kitsune and it was gone.

Is this a dream? No, a horrible nightmare, I slumped over.

What I wouldn’t do for a chicken box and half and a half from Blue Sky right now. Blowing out a breath I stood, pain shoot to my knee. The scratches burnt with fresh blood under my movement. Sheessssshhhh what the wackadoodle happened! Seeing red my anger flashed through me and my locket burned as if warning me of my need to calm down.

A velvet male voice slithered through my fury to reach my ears, “Careful, you have been wounded”

Angry even more at the unknown voice.“Who. Are. You?” I swiveled in the direction of the voice.

Bowing he spoke, "My name is Omar. Humanity would call what happened an earthquake. To us, it is the Shattering and our freedom on this fertile land you call earth.” He said in a polished voice. Chiseled features greeted me with blue serpentine eyes, that held my death upon his stare. “Little shaman, calm yourself. The air is thick with your magic leaving you a danger to yourself and humanity.”

“Us?” I held his gaze sardonically as if he didn’t frighten me, which he did.

He smirked and replied, “Every species of mystical being the Asian community has referred us to have returned. I, a Bakunawa would take you as queen. As my Mangkujulam, we could lay claim to this land and sea before the others do in the goddess's name. With you at my side much trust could be gained by the surviving humanity,” he sneered.

I shuddered over remembering the Bakunawa’s serpent-dragon-mythology. Foretold to be the cause of eclipses, earthquakes, rains, and wind. His elemental powers allow him to shift into a water dragon then from the water fly. I am in trouble with a capital T. “Why would I marry you,” I asked doing my best to stall and find a way out of this predicament.

“I am your strongest ally to saving your sister.” He said smoothly.

“My sister?”

“Oh yes, did I fail to mention? She’s been taken,” he said with a sneer.

“She is a true Mangkujulam, a practitioner where I just dabbled in the healing arts, she on the other hand was strong and formidable. Probably a better Queen than I would be, but none of you can claim us,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

Ignoring me he turned his head. “Can you walk under your injuries? I tried to heal you as best I can, but I am stronger near a body of water.”

Ignoring his babble, I seethed. My magic swirled around inside me angrily. “What of my parents?”

A weird sense of sadness wafted from him, and he looked away. The air smelled of sour grapes. Remorse. “I buried them for you. The Shattering was not good for humans, leaving me surprised you survived.”

“They are dead?” I whispered more to myself as I switched my resolve before speaking, “I will mourn them later,” I spoke shakily. The need to find my sister urged me to my feet. “I need to get cleaned up,” my sorrow issued out in a whisper as I added, “Mind my privacy.”

“As you wish, my mangkujulam queen” He bowed low, and it was only then I saw the silver crown with serpent scales encircling his head and phantom wings the color of the ocean stretching wide across his back.

Grateful there was still hot water. I scrubbed until my skin tingled with the scent of eucalyptus and mint. The water cleansed me of the tired ache in my body and guilt from my parents’ death. I had to find my twin.

Smelling the soothing scent of mint-scented eucalyptus, I heard the Bakunawa rummaging around in the kitchen. My stomach growled and I ignored it. I gathered supplies. I wondered if my go-bags were still here. As covid had hit a year ago I packed each of the family a go-bag with a week’s supply of hygiene items, clothes, water, and dried fruit and jerky. I took the food from my parent’s duffle and put it in the backpack I used when hiking. At my little row home in Fells Point, I had a survivalist room built to withstand chaos and stocked it with everything I could think of. I guess I am a dragon-like him in that way. Firedrakes are hoarders.

I rearranged the duffle to accommodate the extra things like medical supplies. I grabbed my military duffel and backpack as well as my sister’s bag to trudged through the house where I saw him leaned up against the remnants of our fireplace and mantel. Eyes closed, he seemed harmless. Tall for a Filipino he was a symbol of strength straight out of our mythologies. Handsome in a classic warrior way with his slim waist and muscles even apparent through the black shirt and cargo pants, he had a swimmer’s build. If we had met under different circumstances maybe I’d look twice at him. Right now, I regarded him as a danger.

His eyes lingered on my face trailing to my hair, the long straight mass was tightly braided and ending at my waist before his gaze lingered on my locket. Instinctively I grabbed it. I am used to being made up, but my cleanup was nothing but the basics under my circumstances. Although my appearance in the mirror as I began to leave the bathroom was still attractive or, so I have been told. My sister to me was the epitome of beauty and that thought made me rethink and care not of what this Bakunawa thought of my appearance. He looks at me unwavering before his eyes took in my Wu-Tang black tee, black cut-off shorts, ripped black nylons, and steel-toed combat boots. At my waist a police baton, a machete, and a spare dagger on my left. I wish I knew where my knee-high boots and dagger were.

“You’re prepared.” He proclaimed. Appraising my appearance as his. A supernatural being out of the riff to claim a human and an expanse of land. I shook my head and cleared the cobwebs from my brain, I must find my sister and fast.

Remembering who I am, I straightened and said. “I am. A shaman is always prepared and just to clear I know martial arts, so back off,” I exclaimed as I examined the remains of the house and I looked out the window to find my Jeep that was thankfully still out front intact. I hope to see that my tincture, potions, and dried herbs still there. I always kept them handy, just in case. “Hey by the way did you happen to see a sparkly kitsune?”

Startled. He rushed to me. “No why? How many tails did it have,” Before he stopped and looked out the window to my Jeep, disgruntled at my vehicle?

I didn't admit my knowledge of the kitsune and the strength of their tails I instead answered his look of unwillingness to ride in my jeep, “Well unless you can shift into a water dragon on dry land then you’ll ride shotgun.” With that, his eyebrows shot to his forehead. “Now be a gentleman and help me with my bags.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the pointed leather tips of my knee-high boots peeking out of the side of the overturned sofa. As I reached for my boots with a squeal of excitement, the room tilted. The water dragon grabbed my arms to steady us both as another boom sounded off. So powerful that it even shook the magic lingering in the air. The scream that came from my mouth was not from excitement.

It was fear!

To be continued.