Her Name was Diwata

The Sun Recollects (From Adlaw's point of view) For a few thousand years, I watched the world forget. We were scouring the textbooks for words from the songs of my People; the stories turned into folklore, and my name — Adlaw — was just another word for sun. Perhaps that was what I was supposed to be: a light so unchanging that no one even bothers to look at it anymore. Until her. The first time I saw Diwata Gonzales, She wasn't praying. She was swearing. Loudly. A dagger she did not believe in. And then, somehow, that disbelief — that flame — woke me up. I was born from the ashes of myth.' Not becauseshe was calling for help, but because in her own heart she didn't believe that she needed saving. Irony of the gods, no? A skeptical woman named Diwata — as in the girlfriend of a good friend who hasn't bought into them at all — and the god who trusted in her and nothing else. She always said, "Magic isn't real." But every time she laughed, the flowers turned their heads to follow. Every time she cried, the stars darkened in honor of him. And when she said my name, And I knew what warm felt like. You want to know how I evolved into who I am today? Not a god. Not a man. But something in the middle — bound by choice, not spell. The moment when she believed — really believed — It was the last flame she lit in me and watched dying. And the sun which shone alone somebody to rise up for. They call it legend. But legends... are but memories that stubbornly refuse to die. Each morning, when the sun throws its first rays on Lake Sebu, you'll see her reflection — hair pulled into a careless bun, dagger faintly glimmering in hand. That's her vow; it's why I breathe. And me? I am the heat on your soft skin when you say her name. Her name was Diwata. And she reminded the sun how to shine. 🌞