The Orient Pearl of Dalatica

She is the Prophecy

Vern started to shake off from lethargy, when she heard people somewhere behind the door, muttering over something serious, causing to raise their inaudible voices. She rose from the soft mattress and scanned the unfamiliar room. A small kerosene lamp was lighting the room, placed on a table beside the wooden sliding window. The wall was made of hardened clay, printed on it was alternate geometric designs of Ifugao. Miniatures of animals, building,s, and ships made of hardened clay, hung on the wall. On the other side was a shelf full of books, thickened by dust and webs.

It was not the place she was expected to be after falling on that extremely high cliff and fetching by a grim reaper.

"This is neither heaven, nor the underworld. This must be the purgatory," she muffled to herself, wondering of the foreign environment.

However, despite of her location, she found it better for her because her father won't be able to find her. This was probably a blessing in disguise, ignoring the thoughts of what has yet to come. Instead of feeling fussed, she felt surreal and thrilled of exploring the new place.

She walked to the door and placed her right ear against the wall.

“She can’t stay here. She doesn’t belong here. She will just cause us trouble. Let’s send her back,” a woman’s voice demanded, must be referring to Vern.

“I’ve thought about that but it’s too dangerous and we have an urgent matter to prioritize. We have to prepare for war,” the man who must have rescued her from the fall earlier, retorted.

“Maximillian, what war are you saying? I knew it. The Baltics must have smelled her blood. I told she’s just a trouble,” the woman exclaimed blatantly.

Vern couldn’t get enough listening behind the door so she opened it.

“I think someone has summoned the portal from the human world and that woman has accidentally entered it,” Maximilian responded, referring to her while sliding himself onto the chair and reclining while playing a glass of a shimmering, dark thin red liquid on his right hand.

The woman gaped at him. The woman was stunned which made her stammer in her trail of words, “Max, please say it’s not what I’m thinking right now.”

“Yes, it’s true. She’s back,” he uttered, confirming the woman’s suspicion.

“Who’s back?” Vern interrupted their dialogues.

The two who was sitting before the table, where a dinner was set, turned to her, looking startled by her sudden appearance.

“Oh, you’re awake. Come, join us here. I also have questions to ask you. I’m Symetra. You can call me Sim,” the woman said noticed and motioning her to sit on the empty chair opposite her. While the man was sitting at the head of the table.

Vern sat on a chair across the woman helplessly. She groped the broad skirt of the long cream colored dress together as she slid herself comfortably on the chair.

Her eyes landed on the man first before she got her attention focused on the woman in front of her.

“How did you find the portal?” she asked earnestly.

“What portal? I was lost. I was just finding my way back when I fell from that cliff,” she countered casually while looking back at her, pondering on a word she had just mentioned. She couldn't distinguish if she was being pranked or something.

“Have you seen something peculiar before that?” she probed.

“Well, there’s nothing looked like it. I just saw a reflection of light coming from the water and that I thought was the waterfalls, but I end up falling from the cliff,” she snorted regretfully.

“That was it. You’ve mistaken the portal as s reflection of water or maybe you’re s spy,” Sim declared impatiently.

“Spy? What are you talking about?” Vern was puzzled.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” Vern continued with bold desperation in her voice, while turning to the man who had been staying silent since she joined them on the table.

“You’re in Dalatica, and I know you’re supposed to know that since you came here to spy on us,” she answered accusingly.

“Max, we need to lock her up. It’s better to be cautious. We can’t trust her,” Simetra demanded firmly, turning to Maximillian.

“Dalatica is a world hidden within your world. We’ve been living for a million years like your ancestors. We chose not to cross to your world, but an inevitable deluge happened causing one of our prisoners to escape. I’ve been searching for her and now he came back, dragging you down here,” he informed, ignoring Simetra’s recommendation.

“Maximillian, you’re not supposed to tell her that. She’s a suspected spy,” she denounced annoyingly.

Maximillian turned to her, “Rest, we have an army to prepare at dawn,” he dismissed, rising from his seat and was about to walk away, “She’s not a spy. She’s the prophecy,” he stated with his head on the side and his back on them, leaving them disoriented and anxious.