Fated

Chapter 13

Ang araw ay hindi pa ganap na sumisikat nang magsimula kaming mag-ensayo. Mabilis at tahimik ang hangin na humahaplos sa mga puno ng kagubatan, tila may sariling buhay na nagmamasid sa amin habang kami ay nagsasanay sa malawak na bakuran. Ang mga anino ng lumang mga puno ay nagsisilbing saksi sa aming pagbuo ng bagong simula.

Mommy was already in position, her form like that of a warrior in the prime of battle—graceful but fierce. She nodded at me to follow her.

“Subukan mong sundan ang aking galaw, anak,” she said softly, her voice a blend of authority and care. "Ang unang hakbang sa pagsasanay ay hindi lamang ang pag-alam sa bawat galaw ng katawan, kundi ang pag-unawa sa iyong kaluluwa. Huwag mong hayaang magulo ang iyong isipan."

I stood tall, my body feeling foreign, as though it was waking up from a long slumber. I focused on my breathing, in and out. I thought of Papa, the strength in his gaze, the way he used to be tough whenever Christian and I had done something. How could I possibly live up to his legacy? My doubts tried to creep in, but I pushed them away.

“Focus,” Mommy instructed, seeing my hesitation. “Ano ang dahilan ng iyong pagsasanay?”

“Para sa tribo,” sagot ko, voice steady but my hands trembling. “Para buhayin ang tapang at lakas na nawala.”

Mommy gave a small smile, the first real smile I had seen from her in a long while. It was a smile of pride, but also one of challenge. "Magandang sagot, anak. Ngunit hindi sapat na sabihin mo lamang iyon. Kailangan mong maramdaman ang bawat salitang iyon sa bawat hakbang na gagawin mo. Ang tribo ay hindi magbabalik sa dati nang hindi mo nakikita ang kahalagahan ng iyong laban."

I nodded, but the weight of her words sank deep into my heart. Every movement felt heavier now, as though the very earth beneath me was testing my resolve.

We began our first set of drills. Inang was relentless, pushing me past my limits. Every time I faltered, she would command me to repeat the movement until I got it right. The rhythm of her steps, so natural, so fluid—everything seemed effortless for her. But with each repetition, my body began to adjust, the stiffness slowly leaving my limbs.

“Mas magaan, hindi ba?” she asked, noticing my improvement.

“Yes,” I panted, wiping the sweat from my brow. “Mas magaan po.”

She nodded, but the sternness in her eyes remained. "Bawat galaw ay may ibig sabihin. Hindi ito simpleng pisikal na pagsasanay, anak. Ang bawat hakbang ay may kasaysayan, may halaga. Gaya ng mga lobo na nakatanim sa bawat ugat ng tribo, ang bawat hakbang mo ay may pagkakakilanlan."

We continued on, practicing footwork, dodging, and quick strikes. Mommy’s movements were like the wind—graceful and swift—while mine felt heavy, like I was still learning to trust my body. But with every pass, I began to feel something stirring within me. It wasn’t just my muscles that were growing stronger; my spirit was, too.

Hours passed, and we broke for a brief rest. As I sat on the ground, catching my breath, I noticed the old teacher, watching us from the shadows. He had not moved since he first appeared, but now he stepped forward, his presence commanding the air.

“Magandang araw, Guro,” Mommy greeted, bowing her head slightly in respect.

The old man nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Nakita ko ang inyong pagsasanay. Malaki ang potensyal ng iyong anak.”

I stood up to face him, still panting, unsure of what to say. He was a man whose presence alone made the air feel heavier, as though he carried the weight of generations on his shoulders.

“Maraming salamat po, Guro,” Mommy said. “Ngunit hindi pa sapat. Kailangan pa niyang matutunan ang lahat ng natutunan ko, pati na ang mga aral na iniwan ng kanyang ama.”

The old man’s face softened, and he stepped closer, studying me with a quiet intensity. “Ang mga aral ng Alpha ay hindi madaling matutunan,” he said gravely. “Ngunit sa iyong mga mata, nakikita ko ang apoy. The spirit of the wolves.”

His words sent a chill through me. Papa's legacy had always been something spoken of in whispers, reverence, and fear. Kahit saan ako magpunta sa tribong ito, usap-usapan ang dating pamumuno ni papa. But now, it felt as though that legacy was no longer a distant memory. It was something alive, something I had to embody.

“Hindi ba’t ikaw ang magtuturo sa kanya?” tanong ni Mommy.

The old man smiled faintly, his lips curling into a grin that seemed to hold secrets from the past. “I will teach her... but not what you expect.”

There was a long silence. I exchanged a look with my mom, who merely nodded, her expression unreadable.

“What do you mean, Guro?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

The old man turned his gaze toward the distant mountains, where the sun had begun to rise higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the land. “There are things that cannot be taught in a day. Things that must be felt... through pain, through failure, and through sacrifice. It is not enough to simply learn the ways of the Alpha. You must live them.”

I felt a weight in his words—something deeper than just the physical training. It was as if the mountain itself had whispered this to him, as if the blood of our ancestors flowed through his veins, carrying truths that had been forgotten by most.

He turned to leave, his movements slow but purposeful. “I will return when the time is right,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Do not seek me before then.”

Mommy watched him as he disappeared into the trees, her face thoughtful. I couldn’t help but wonder what this meant for our journey, for my training.

“You have heard him, anak,” Mommy said softly, turning to me. “There is more to being a leader than simply knowing how to fight. We will prepare your mind as well as your body. The wolves do not fight with their claws alone.”

I nodded, though part of me felt uncertain. My father’s legacy was something that seemed so far beyond my reach. But there was a fire inside me now, a fire that no longer felt like a distant dream.

“I won’t fail,” I said, more to myself than to her. But I knew Inang heard it, and she gave me a nod of approval.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of training, meditation, and reflection. Mommy taught me how to quiet my mind, how to listen to the sounds of the forest, to understand the language of the earth beneath my feet. Each movement, each breath, began to feel like a part of a larger pattern. I was no longer just moving through the motions; I was becoming one with the rhythm of the world around me.

As the sun set, casting a golden hue over the landscape, Inang and I sat in silence. The day had been long and grueling, but I felt something shift within me. I was no longer the same person I had been that morning.

“Remember, anak,” Mommy said, her voice quiet as the night descended. “The true test is not in how well you fight. It is in how well you lead. When the time comes, you must be strong—not only in body but in spirit.”

I looked at her, feeling the weight of her words. Tomorrow, we would train again. But tonight, I understood something important. The legacy of my father was not just a weapon to wield. It was a mantle to bear.

And though I was scared, I was ready.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Spread Love, xoxo