It was a long time ago, five hundred years or so. There I live in a village, Mangatang as they call it, the land of bandits, of pirates, of plunderers, of barbarians, and of names which make a man more evil than what he seems to be. But do not judge them by their name, it is entirely misleading. They are good people, better than the ones I have met in the present times. They have good spirits, good souls. Yes. Good souls.

I was not born, but I was made. Carved from the strongest wood in the island, I live for eternity to share their story. They say I was their guardian, anito, the one who protects and the one who saves. They placed me between the rocks, beyond the river, and amongst the trees. From there, I saw and heard everything, from the chirping birds, grunting boars, hissing snakes, splashing water, swishing leaves and falling rain.

How about the humans you ask?

They made a special kind of sound, different array of voices that one cannot describe in a word or two or three or more. The rhythms they created, music as the present day calls it, every night brought joy to the quiet forest. Their soul spilled out with every flick of the tongue and play of the lips and yet they never ran out of the thing. As if they were the river, flowing night and day without a hint of drying out.

I do my best to keep everything still, talking to the spirits amongst my field. Listening to their stories, fixing their troubles, facilitating their arguments, inspiring their dreams, and lifting their helpless spirit, that is my everyday task. I knew everything, at least everything that I need to know. I am the wise and the witty, and I am the elder of the vicinity.

It’s amazing how I can speak to the river, but not to a man, to a tree, but not to a woman, and to the animals, but not to the children. I knew there is something special about humans, but I was not quite sure what it is.

I say humans are quite surprising. Every night they come and visit me, build a fire and worship me. I did not ask for it and yet they did not stop. They say it’s a way of paying respect to their ancestors who I wish I knew. Asking me to protect their lives and their souls and yet they know that I can’t wield a sword. The elders always speak to me, thanking me for their family, their property and their life. I did not argue since I know I can’t. Not only that I do not speak, but I just don’t know what to say. I show no signs of life, and yet they believe I am alive, so I let them be.

One day the datu, Lapulapu Dimantag, left offerings for me. Gave me food that, I knew, he knew I can’t eat, and will never be able to. Varieties of fruit, fresh meat, of fish and pork, dried nuts and beans and more. He said it’s for the bountiful harvest and their successful raids, thanked me for guiding them to a battle I did not see, and wish to not. He bowed down and gets back up, turned around, walked back to the village, and left me behind with the aroma of fresh foods for the taking.

The delicious treats attracted every animal in my proximity. I loved it when the creatures accompany me for the day, even though they came to me for the food and not for the companionship. They are the ones who consumed the food, but I don’t care. The stories of mountains and beaches and villages they tell as they eat are more than enough for me. They became my eyes to the places that I cannot see; ears to the noises I cannot hear, and messenger to the people I cannot reach. As they tell their stories, the forest vibrates with their chatter. A choir of beings that gave life to the land I live in. I did not listen to everyone for they are too many, too noisy, or too ordinary. Silly critters they don’t even notice my lack of attention.

But there is this one creature, a magnificent avian, Haribon, showed off his brown and white-colored plumage, his creamy shaggy crest, his sharp beak and talons and his glorious wings as he glides amongst the others. He was large and mighty, king of the skies and lord of the forest, he towers every creature that I know existed in the island. He was the quiet one, but that time he himself brought a story. With his presence itself the whole forest silenced except for the river and the trees, which can never be told to do so.

His tales were truly worth being respected, for his tale only holds two things, the truth and the important. He sensed the arrival of a human child, born of the datu and the bravest, kindest, and prettiest woman in the village. The child is special for not only he was the son of the datu, but he was said to be the man that will bring change, of which nature is unknown even to the bird king.

But how did he support his claim? He said with a blank face, “He is my soul, and I am his spirit for he is me, but I am not him. I can feel it.”

Everyone was puzzled, not knowing what to say in response. Everyone has no idea on what he is pertaining to, but I am not like everyone. I knew what he meant and yet I did not want to reveal it to the world. I have been standing on this island far longer than everyone, dug up all knowledge of my past life and gain more from this new one. There is only one thing that can happen. He’s death is approaching.

He is old, but not older than me. The difference is that he is an animal and I am not. Death is inevitable for their kind. As souls, death is not quite what everyone expects it to be. Humans believe that souls go into heaven and some stay on Earth. In reality, everyone stays in the lands on where they died and they just undergo a rebirth process. Into a new shape, new form cleared of all the impurities. We will all be innocent once again, and again, and again, but innocence has a price to pay.

Death might not be the end of a soul as it is merely a transfer from one body to another, but a loss of an alpha, a king, cannot be taken lightly. He might return, but he will never be the same. All his memory, his knowledge, his skills, and his leadership will all be buried. Not lost, but buried. For a soul never fades it just forgets. Who knows what will happen to his descendant.

He said that the child is destined to be born eight full moons from now. With that message disposed, he flapped his mighty wings disappearing in a blink of an eye amongst the tree lines of his kingdom. He left everyone in awe and no one was able to speak seconds after he flew away. And with a snap of a branch, the jungle rumbled with the uproar of joy and excitement. The critters, trees, rocks, river and wind, all danced and sang and laughed with such passion that even the saddest of creature was forced to smile.

But not me, for I know the truth.

It was a very long wait. Everyday Haribon and all of the souls watched, guided, and protected Calag, the datu’s 14th wife, the bringer of the destined child. Escorting her in her walks, helping her in her tasks, entertaining her in her rest and even cleaning her home so she doesn’t have to, that was every creature’s duty.

All of her fellow villagers were amazed by the array of chimps, birds, snakes, boars and insects that followed her in every step that she made. The river parted when she tried to cross, the rocks cleared when she walked, the trees bowed down as they gave her their fruits. Everyone thought she was a diwata, a creature of beauty and goodness as a physical manifestation of the land as told in their stories, which she was in her past life. No doubt that her beauty and good heart still lingers in his new form, and I am glad that it did.

Everyone treated her well, for a birth of a datu’s son is no ordinary occasion. He was not the first son born of the datu’s blood line and yet it seems like it is. Boars were raised, crops were harvested, and the village started preparing for the child’s arrival. The craftsmen, asked by the datu himself, crafted his finest shield and sword, for a son was destined to fight and hunt for the village the moment he is born.

The twilight before the destined time, Calag and Lapulapu sat down in the staircase of their home, waiting for the stars to shine. As the sun melted in to the horizon and the darkness took over, a big shadow perched on the tree in front of them. It was not the first time they saw Haribon, but they still get amazed by his grace and beauty every time he shows up. Lapulapu stared admiringly at the bird, a symbol of power and passion as he interpreted. He then stared at her wife’s eyes that shine as it reflects the moonlight and asked, “What should we name him?”
Calag was surprised, for as long as he can remember no datu has ever asked his wife of a name for a child. She assumed that he already had named it the moment he knew it was a boy.

Not knowing what to say, she looked at the bird and like a jolt of lighting, a name appeared on her mind. The avian nodded as if he agreed on what she is thinking. She smiled back to her husband and said, “Bagaoisan.”

“What?”

“Bagaoisan,” she said louder.

The moment she said the name the bird flew away, left a trail of feathers dancing around in the windy night. His shadow, gone in a blink of an eye and he was not seen since then.

The night was full of tension, for a human child birth is a very dangerous process. There were cases where the child died and the mother survived or the mother died and the child survived. But, amazingly this was neither of those two; they both survived and will continue to.

As the manghihilot, cleanse the child, wrapped it around a piece of wool, and took care of the weak Calag, the whole village was busy preparing for the celebration. In the middle of the village ground, a huge fire was built to serve as the light for the night, even though the moon is shining brighter than ever.

Surrounding it was a raw of wooden tables, covered with leaves, holding the foods and beverages for the celebration. The people sang songs of life, of battles fought, of a happy harvest times, of delicious feast, and of every good song everyone knew. It was a memorable night, everyone had a great time, but no one saw Calag and the child for they are resting.

The next sunrise during the noon, family by family, they visited the datu’s home bringing gifts and offerings for the child, in the hopes to see him. But the manghihilot, stopped them and said that the mother and the child is still in a fragile state on which they should not be bothered by anyone. At least the manghihilot understands a little bit about the situation of a soul of a born child specially those of the humankind.

It is the time when a mother builds a bond with her new born, a soul tether. The strongest type of bond only a mother and her child can possess. It’s a bond that will last a lifetime and sometimes even beyond death. With this the child was to be protected by his mother at all cost and the reverse will happen as the child grew older. It’s a simple game of life.

It took weeks before Calag was strong enough to walk and show Bagaoisan the world. Everyone was delighted by the sight of the child and her mother. As they walk by the homes, they were approached by smiles and praises as if he was the biggest fish a fisherman has caught in his lifetime.

He was like any other child of his age, small, playful, innocent, and curious. When he had discovered his ability to walk, he ran, jumped, skipped, and hopped around town like a monkey after a great meal. When he had discovered his ability to speak, he talked to the townsmen, to his parents, to his friends, to me. Yes, he can speak the language of the soul. In fact, he was the first man who has ever spoken to me and it was life changing.

Was this the change Haribon talked about? Yes and no.
Yes, for he changed everyone, his ability to talk to the creatures, to the trees, to the rocks, to the river and to the sky enlightened everyone and no, for it was not the only change we have ever experienced in his presence.

One day, a bird, Maya, came to me and said, “Three ships! Three ships! They are coming!”

At first I did not listen to his blabbering for every time a ship arrives near the island it spells disaster for their crew and their goods. Remember that the village men were warriors, bandits, pirates, whatever you want to call them. They plunder ships, take their wealth and bring it back to the village for everyone to share, but this time is an entirely different case.

Boom!

Out goes a terrible sound that shook the whole jungle, I heard the panic and fear of the villagers specially the women and their children. But the men are fearless, they grabbed their swords, spears, shields and bows dipped the sharp edges in a concoction of use I have never seen.

Bagaoisan was one of them, at that time he was already nineteen. He was as strong as his father for I have seen both of them train together at the riverside. He was born to fight for his movements are as natural as the instincts of a predator. But unlike his father, his eyes during combat was not dark brown, but gold.

As they strike their swords, clashing and banging, the kid was on the defence. As his father swung the blade towards his head his eyes suddenly glittered into an eyes of a predator, designed for speed and precision, as he dodged the sharp edges of the sword and with surprising agility, struck it with his own, sent it flying into the air and pierced itself in a tree behind them. His father, amazed by his son’s display of skill, hugged the kid with pride and with that Bagaoisan’s eyes went back to normal.
“Haribon’s eyes,” I told myself.

From that moment, I knew he was destined to be great and I felt that that attack from a foreign invader was his chance to prove it. I did not see what has happened and no animal was courageous enough to watch the battle. I only hear guns firing, blades clashing, shields banging, and humans shouting. After an hour or so, the noise subsided. It was over, I guessed. I heard chanting, and I was glad it was not of foreign chant, it was my people and they won, but for what cost?

The celebration did not last long, for a lot of men had fallen on ways too gruesome to describe. One of them was Lapulapu, the datu has fallen in battle. His bloody remains were held by his son and one other man and they were approaching me. Bagaoisan, with a cut on his elbow and blood on his forehead, did not even care for his injuries. The pain inside of him was worse than any pain a weapon could inflict.

They left him and his father with me as they clean up the rest. With a teary eye, he knelt in front of me and said, “Please take care of my dad for me, anito.” He arose from the ground; the dirt on his bloody knees did not bother him, he walked back to the village and left me with his father, which spirit has now parted from the body in search of a new one.

I heard someone shout from the village, it was Bagaoisan talking to his fellow villagers of the changes that will happen. The message was inaudible for the thick forest masks his voice, but after a while the whole village starts cheering his name.

He is the new datu and I know he was worthy to be one.
He ran back to me and told me, “We will be leaving this island for the attackers have not been eliminated. One of the ships escaped and I know that they will come back, they will seek revenge. I need to protect my people. You do understand my purpose, anito, do you?”

“I do,” I responded.

“Will you come with us? I’ll take you to a new land where we will live in peace once more.”

“I can’t leave this place, Bagaoisan. I have been living here for century and the treacherous sea would be devastating to an old tree trunk like me. Leave me here to rot and live your own life.”

“I can’t abandon you anito! You have been guiding me since I was a child. Without a father I don’t know how I could live, how my people could live. I need your knowledge, your guidance, and your love. We all need you. Is there any way you can come and join us?”

“There is a way, soul transfer, by breaking me and praying that I can live in a new form, by burning me and wishing that I could find you again. Go on, we have nothing to lose. I know you are afraid to try because you are scared that I might go somewhere else where you will never find me. Remember, child, humans have the ability to believe, believe Bagaoisan, break me and speak no more.”

And with that he grabbed his blade, cleansed it with the waters of the river, and with a mighty swing he struck my wooden body, breaking me, freeing me. Souls do not fade they just forget. From that moment I can’t remember what happened. I was flying, no floating, no drifting with the aether and suddenly I felt a force, a grip, a warm hands of a human.

I looked and saw the human that was holding me. I talked to him. “Do not grip to tight please, it’s making me uncomfortable.”
He stared at me with a questionable expression and asked. “Anito, is that you?”

That voice sounds familiar, I searched within me for a name that I can’t remember and suddenly I felt something, something wet, his teardrops, he is crying. As he sobs, a sudden surge of memory flooded my head, my blade. “Bagaoisan, yes it’s me.”

I was not the only one, for his father, whose soul that spilled out of his dead body, flew by, yes flew by with speed and grace only one creature can possess, an eagle. He was no ordinary eagle, for he has no feathers, no beak, no body, and no shadow. It’s just the form which means he was still in the spirit state and yet he already knew what he will become. Humans, they really are special.

He glided down to his son, perched on his armbands and stared at him with pride.

“You have done well my son, take care of our people, they need you now. Be their foundation, their shield, their blade and their hope. Never leave them behind for your own selfish endeavours. Village first. That is the datu’s oath to the people.”

“Village first,” replied the kid with a smile in his face. And with that the spirit flew up to the sky and melted in the clouds.
He then flew back to the sky, disappearing into the brightness of the sun. Bagaoisan, now looking stronger compared to his earlier state murmured a few words even though his father already left.

“Thank you for everything.”

And with that he walked back to the village and sheathed me back to my leather case.

“Bagaoisan! NO I CAN’T BREATH! Oh wait. NO I CAN’T SEE!

“Did you really tell him that?”

“Of course not, that would be anti-climactic. Now what do you say Mr. Agrigold. Are you satisfied of my story about your ancestor?

“Not quite Totem, I need to learn more. We will talk again after a while. Good day Totem, have a nice day”

“Oh Mr. Agrigold, your family was always the curious one. Very well then. Good day to you too.”

“Meow”

“Come on, Mr. Karthus, we will grab a bite and then do what we have to do.”

“Meow, meow.”

Author's note: Please check out the story at Goodreads| Mystery of Agrigold, The Animist