The last witch of Lunarisca

Long before Spanish colonization, the babaylan of the Philippines were deeply respected. They were healers, spiritual leaders, and guides of their communities, people believed they could speak to spirits, heal the sick, and protect their people using powers that could not be explained. But when the Spanish arrived, everything changed. The babaylan were labeled as witches, seen as enemies of the church, and were hunted down. Many were captured and killed, while others were forced into hiding. Over time, their presence faded, and their kind slowly disappeared into silence and fear. It was during this dark time that the night felt heavier than usual. The forest was quiet, filled only with the soft chirping of crickets and the distant sound of Guardia Civil soldiers searching through the land. The air carried tension, as if danger was close, watching, waiting. Through the thick forest, a young woman and a man ran desperately between the trees. Their breathing was uneven, their bodies weak from exhaustion. Rain soaked their clothes, mixing with sweat and mud. The woman wore a simple baro’t saya, now wrinkled and stained, while the man wore an old camisa de chino and worn-out trousers. They looked like ordinary people, but they were not. They were running not just to survive the night, but to escape a world that no longer accepted who they were. “Hurry, Lucio…” the woman said softly but urgently, her voice trembling as she held a small baby tightly in her arms. Her name was Ysabella. The man beside her was Lucio. “Are we still far?” Lucio asked, trying to sound strong, even as fear crept into his voice. “We can’t stop… they’re looking for us,” Ysabella replied, tightening her hold on the child. At that time, being a babaylan was no longer a blessing. It was a death sentence. Ysabella suddenly slowed down until she came to a full stop, her body trembling from exhaustion and fear. Her hands shook as she struggled to catch her breath, each inhale uneven and painful. “Lucio… we won’t be able to escape while we’re carrying the baby…” she said, her voice breaking under the weight of what she was about to suggest. Lucio turned his gaze to the child in her arms. The baby slept peacefully, unaware of the danger closing in around them, unaware that its life was about to be changed forever. A deep fear settled in Lucio’s chest, but so did helplessness. “What are we going to do?” he asked quietly, his voice no longer steady. Ysabella closed her eyes, as if trying to block out the world, or perhaps to hold on to the last moment she had with her child. When she opened them again, there was pain in them, but also resolve. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her trembling hand and, for the first time, allowed her power to surface. It was weak, almost fragile, like it could disappear at any second, but it was enough. A soft, glowing light formed in her palm, warm and gentle, like a quiet promise. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she whispered, her voice filled with love, fear, and a mother’s quiet desperation, “In darkness, you will be hidden… in light, you will be protected…” The light responded to her words, slowly wrapping around the baby, covering it in a faint glow that felt both protective and sorrowful. Lucio watched in silence, his heart tightening as he realized what she was doing. “Are you sure?” he asked, though part of him already knew there was no other choice. Ysabella nodded, though tears continued to fall, her expression breaking. “They won’t find the baby… even if we’re gone,” she said softly. Those words hung in the air, heavy with meaning neither of them wanted to fully accept. With aching hearts, they knelt beside an old, towering tree. Ysabella gently laid the baby down, her hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary, as if she couldn’t bring herself to let go. They covered the child with leaves, while the soft light dimmed just enough to hide it from sight, like it was erasing the baby’s presence from the world. Ysabella leaned down and pressed a trembling kiss to the baby’s forehead, her tears falling onto its skin. “I’m sorry…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with a grief too deep for words. “Come on,” Lucio said softly, though his voice carried the same pain. He reached for her, knowing that if they stayed any longer, they might not have the strength to leave at all. Together, they turned away, each step feeling heavier than the last, as if they were leaving a piece of themselves behind. Far from the forest, inside a cold and silent stone church, Padre Ignacio de la Cruz stood among members of the Guardia Civil. His face showed no emotion, his voice firm and unforgiving as he gave his command. “Make sure no one escapes. There must be no witches left in this land.” His words carried the weight of finality, as if he believed he was cleansing the world of something evil. Outside, hidden in the shadows, a man waited patiently. He stood completely still, his presence almost blending with the darkness around him. His name was Valerio Noctivagus, a hunter known for finding those who believed they could disappear. When one of the guards approached him and said, “We found the two,” a small, satisfied smile formed on his lips. “Finally,” he replied, his voice calm but filled with quiet anticipation. Back in the forest, Ysabella and Lucio came to another stop, both of them suddenly tense. They could feel it, an approaching presence that made the air feel colder. “He’s coming…” Ysabella whispered, fear creeping into her voice. Lucio instinctively stepped in front of her, placing himself between her and whatever was approaching. “Are you ready?” he asked, even though he knew neither of them truly was. Ysabella forced a small smile, despite the fear in her eyes. “As long as the baby is safe… that’s enough,” she said, holding onto that one fragile comfort. From the darkness, a figure slowly emerged. It was Valerio. His expression was blank, his movements calm and controlled, as if what he was about to do meant nothing to him. “You were hard to find,” he said, his tone almost casual. Lucio stood his ground, his fear turning into quiet defiance. “That’s enough. We’ve done nothing wrong,” he said firmly. But Valerio only looked at them with cold indifference. “It doesn’t matter,” he replied. The wind suddenly grew stronger, the trees rustling as tension filled the space between them. Ysabella raised her hand again, forcing her power to respond despite her fear. A weak wave of energy pushed forward, but it was not enough. Valerio moved faster than either of them could react. One swift motion. One clean strike. And then— Silence. Lucio fell first, his body hitting the ground heavily. Ysabella followed, her strength gone in an instant. There were no screams, no final words, only the stillness that followed. The forest, once alive with sound, seemed to hold its breath. Valerio stepped closer, looking down at their lifeless bodies. For a brief moment, something unfamiliar passed through him, something he couldn’t name. A feeling that didn’t belong in someone like him. “Witch…” he murmured quietly. But there was nothing left to prove it. No visible sign. No trace of power. The next day, he returned to the church and stood before Padre Ignacio. “It’s done,” he said simply. “And the child?” the priest asked. Valerio paused, just for a moment. Something about the question lingered in his mind. “I didn’t find any child,” he answered. The priest smiled, clearly satisfied. “Then that means… they are all gone.” Valerio nodded. “There are no more witches.” But deep within the forest, far from the eyes of men who believed they had ended everything, a faint light still flickered beneath an old tree. Hidden among the roots and leaves, the baby remained, alive, protected, and untouched by the violence that had taken its parents. The soft glow continued to shield it, as if holding onto the last promise Ysabella had made. And with that child… A secret lived on. Waiting. Quiet. Unseen. But never truly gone.