Chapter 5: A Quiet Shift
1088 Words
The sun was setting as Maria walked into her modest apartment, the comforting sounds of her family filling the air. Her mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she stirred a pot of sinigang, the aroma of tamarind and fresh vegetables wrapping around Maria like a warm hug. Her younger brother, Paolo, was sprawled on the couch, his attention glued to a video game.
“Maria, you’re just in time!” her mother called out. “Dinner’s almost ready. Come help set the table.”
Maria set her bag down and smiled, rolling up her sleeves. “Alright, Ma. Paolo, get off the couch and help me with the plates.”
Paolo groaned dramatically, pausing his game. “Ate, I’m in the middle of something important!”
Maria raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What, saving the galaxy? I’m sure it can wait. Come on, chop-chop!”
Their father, sitting at the dining table and scrolling through his phone, chuckled. “Listen to your sister, Paolo. She’s the boss around here.”
Grumbling, Paolo shuffled over, grabbing utensils and napkins. “One day, I’ll be famous for gaming, and you’ll all regret treating me like a servant,” he muttered, just loud enough to earn a laugh from Maria.
After the table was set, the family gathered in the small dining area.
“Let’s pray,” her father said, bowing his head.
Maria followed suit, clasping her hands together as her father began to lead the prayer. As the words filled the room, Maria suddenly became aware of something different. It started as a faint warmth spreading through her chest, growing into a sensation of lightness, like a gentle breeze lifting her spirit.
Her eyes fluttered open for a moment. The room seemed brighter, the flickering light from the single bulb overhead casting soft glows around her family. It was as if the prayer itself was alive, resonating not just in their words but in the air around them.
Maria closed her eyes again, a small smile forming on her lips. The feeling wasn’t overwhelming or strange—it was comforting, like being wrapped in a blanket of hope and love.
When the prayer ended, she opened her eyes and found her family looking at her with warmth.
“Are you alright, Maria?” her mother asked, noticing the peaceful expression on her face.
“Yeah,” Maria said, nodding. “I think I am.”
As the family began eating, the conversation flowed naturally.
“Paolo,” their father said between bites, “how’s school? No more calls from your teacher, I hope?”
Paolo grinned sheepishly. “No, Dad. I’m on my best behavior now.”
“Sure, sure,” Maria teased. “Until next week when you’re back to trying to beat your detention record.”
“Hey!” Paolo protested, pointing a fork at her. “I’ve turned over a new leaf, Ate. You’ll see.”
Their mother chuckled. “Let’s hope so. And Maria, did you hear about Joshua?”
Maria paused, mid-bite. “Joshua? Joshua Garcia?”
Her mother nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “Yes! His mom told me he’s coming home next week for a vacation. He’s been living in Italy, you know, working as a chef. Imagine that, the little boy who used to steal your crayons is now a chef!”
“Wow,” Maria said, leaning back in her chair. The thought of Joshua brought back a flood of childhood memories—running around the neighborhood, playing hide-and-seek, and sharing snacks after school. “It’s been so long. I wonder if he’s changed much.”
Paolo snickered. “Probably not. Bet he still cheats at board games.”
“Paolo,” their father scolded lightly, but he was smiling. “Joshua’s grown up, just like Maria. It’ll be nice to see him again. Maybe he can cook for us while he’s here.”
Maria laughed softly. “I wouldn’t mind that. Italian food cooked by Joshua Garcia... who would’ve thought?”
Her mother gave her a knowing smile. “Maybe you should take some time off and catch up with him. I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
Maria rolled her eyes, but the idea didn’t seem so bad. “We’ll see. If I survive this week at school first.”
The family laughed, the warmth of their bond filling the room. For a moment, Maria allowed herself to forget about the strange feelings and flickering lights. Tonight, she was just Maria Santos, sitting at the dinner table, surrounded by the people she loved.
Dinner conversation flowed normally after that. Paolo complained about homework. Her father discussed work. Her mother mentioned Joshua’s return again, her tone light and curious.
Maria nodded along.
But she barely tasted the food.
Her chest still felt… aware.
Later that night, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
The city hummed outside her window.
She told herself the warmth during prayer was emotion.
Faith.
Adrenaline.
Anything but what she was afraid it might be.
Eventually, sleep took her.
But it did not come gently.
She was standing in the golden hall again.
But it wasn’t quiet this time.
The stained-glass windows trembled.
Light fractured through them in violent streaks.
At the far end of the hall, the priests were chanting—but their voices were distorted, stretched thin and strained.
“Maria.”
The voice was closer this time.
She turned.
The angel stood before her—brighter than before—but wounded.
Cracks of darkness ran across its wings like veins.
Behind it—
The shadow was no longer shapeless.
It pulsed.
Watching.
Aware.
“You are not ready,” a voice echoed—not Joshua’s this time.
Not Liam’s.
Not anyone she knew.
The shadow shifted closer.
The golden floor beneath her feet began to split.
Hairline fractures spreading outward.
“Choose.”
The word vibrated through her bones.
“Choose what?” she demanded.
The shadow surged forward.
The angel raised its blade—
And this time—
The darkness looked directly at her.
Not past her.
At her.
Her chest ignited.
The warmth from dinner flared violently, like a burst of light breaking through her ribs.
The fractures in the floor halted.
The angel’s cracked wings steadied.
The shadow recoiled—
Just slightly.
And in that moment—
Maria understood something terrifying.
It wasn’t the angel fighting.
It was responding to her.
The shadow hissed.
The hall shattered—
And she woke up gasping.
- Writer
