Raine and Zane set off for Santa Clara, unaware of what awaited them. Santa Clara, one of the sitios tucked within the Entiera District of Nueva Aurora, lay beyond the city's heart. They navigated their way through the bustling center, slipping down to the tricycle terminal beneath a crowded supermarket. From there, they'd catch a direct ride, though few ventured out that far-the distance alone kept most at bay.

"Are you certain..." Zane began as they trekked the long road, the skyscrapers shrinking behind them. They sat side-by-side in the tricycle, with another gentleman by the driver, bound for the heart of Sitio Santa Clara in Barangay Manggahan.

"I'm still not convinced," Raine replied.

"But you've no idea what I was about to say. You didn't even let me finish," Zane countered.

"You were going to ask if I believe these phenomena stem from some dark, malevolent society dabbling in black magic, and I've answered-I'm not convinced," Raine retorted. "Am I right in thinking you've already embraced that theory?"

"I believe there are countless things in this world beyond explanation," Zane replied.

"Yes, you mentioned as much before, when you brought up the universe and solar system," Raine noted.

"Did I? Funny-you remember that, and I've already forgotten," Zane chuckled.

"Odd, isn't it? I can't believe I still recall it," she murmured, her gaze drifting to the road beside her. "Those mythical things are hard to define, yet they resonate with something buried deep within us."

"Could you elaborate?" Zane asked.

"Just keep it in mind," Raine replied, her gaze catching the road sign: Barangay Manggahan. "This is it."

"It?" Zane echoed, glancing out the front to see the sign they'd just passed. "Now will you explain?"

"This is where the first 'pagpakara' happened," Raine said.

Zane's brow furrowed, intrigued by a word he hadn't expected her to know. "You speak Bikol?"

Silence enveloped them as the tricycle rattled along, punctuated only by the low hum of the engine. Raine's gaze roamed the streets, absorbing every detail-the faded shopfronts, stray dogs nosing around for scraps, the worn posters peeling from walls, the old, tall trees scattered around the area.

At last, they pulled up outside a modest house, its paint chipped and a light glowing faintly from the porch. A quiet tension hung in the air, as if the walls themselves held secrets. This was the home of the victim's friend.

"You go in first. I'll look around," Raine said as they neared the gate.

"Why me?"

"Because you're the medical expert here-you can assess them first. Meanwhile, as an instructor for the university's paper, I'll do what I do best," she replied, giving his shoulder a quick tap before slipping away into the street.

Zane pressed the doorbell, and moments later, Mrs. Suarez appeared at the door, her face lighting up as she spotted him. It seemed she'd been expecting him; perhaps her client had already given word of their arrival, just as Eteri had sent Raine the address.

"Come in," Mrs. Suarez greeted warmly, holding the gate open as if she'd rehearsed this very moment. The faint smell of lavender wafted from the pathway, mingling with a quiet tension that lingered just beneath her polite smile.

"What's your impression of Amara Turner, then?" Zane asked, settling into his seat after the interview with the couple. Their son was asleep upstairs, and the living room felt cloistered-windows and doors tightly shut, as though shielding them from the weight of the conversation.

"I warned Betty she was a bad influence," Mr. Aaron Suarez replied, his tone gruff, casting a glance at his wife. Across from their visitor, he shifted uncomfortably, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. Mrs. Beatrice 'Betty' Suarez moved about, serving coffee to each of them with a warm, if tense, smile.

"The poor girl was out of her depth here, love. I only wanted her to feel at home," Mrs. Betty explained, seating herself on a wooden chair beside her husband. She looked at Zane, brow furrowing. "I thought there'd be two of you. Where's the young lady?"

As she settled, her spoon slipped from the tray, clattering onto the floor-an unexpected sound in the otherwise silent room, drawing all eyes downward.

"I suppose the young lady you're referring to will be here soon," Aaron said, his voice laced with a hint of impatience.

"Oh, come on, dear. It's just a superstition," Betty reassured him, waving off his concerns with a dismissive hand.

The sudden ring of the doorbell broke the tension in the room, drawing their attention.

"You heard that, sweetheart?" Aaron muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Who said it was just a nonsense belief?"

Betty rose once more and made her way to the blue gate, her gaze falling on Lorraine de Verra. "I thought you weren't coming, ma'am," she remarked.

"And now I am here, madame," Raine replied smoothly, stepping inside with a quiet confidence.

Betty smiled faintly and, after a brief pause, turned to head into the kitchen. She returned moments later with a fresh spoon and handed Raine the last cup of coffee she had prepared, her movements careful, as if weighing every gesture.

The two ladies sat down beside their respective men, facing one another. "They mentioned receiving a letter this morning, around five," Zane told Raine, whose eyes were already scanning the area of the blue house, taking in every detail.

"A letter?" Raine asked, her voice calm, though her gaze remained sharp.

"There was a red-coloured envelope," Betty added, her tone casual, but Aaron fell silent, his expression hard to read.

"And what was in the envelope, may I ask?" Zane pressed, his gaze fixed on the couple.

"That was just one of those pranks they're always pulling. It must've been from those silly young people with too much time on their hands-no real worries, despite all the technology at their fingertips," Aaron replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"But I found you acting quite silly... nervous about that thing," Betty remarked, her words sharp, as she watched her husband closely.

"You already told me it was just a silly thing, didn't you?" Aaron shot back at his wife, his tone growing defensive.

"But, Mister, I'm well aware that you're clearly superstitious," Raine replied.

"How did you know? I was just about to say the same," Zane whispered, leaning closer, curiosity piqued.

"Interviews," Raine whispered back, then took a slow sip of her coffee, letting the moment settle before speaking again. "Now, tell us what was in that envelope," she added, her voice firm and clear this time.

"A rose petal," Betty answered, her voice almost distant. "A single red rose petal. But what I don't understand is why he's turning such a small, trivial thing into something so big."

Zane's eyes widened, a flicker of recognition crossing his face as the superstition behind the petal hit him. "Are you aware of the superstition surrounding that, madame?" he asked, his tone low, yet urgent.

"I don't believe in such things. He does," Betty replied, glancing at her husband with a small sigh.

"But I'm saying now that it's just a harmless joke," Aaron added quickly, placing his untouched coffee on the table between them with a soft clink.

"Mind if we stay the night here, Ma'am and Sir?" Raine asked.

"Here?" Aaron echoed, his eyes widening in surprise.

"We'll be staying for the evening. Don't worry about the bedroom," Raine assured them with a calm smile.

"Uh, no. I'll prepare the guest room upstairs for you. You can sleep there," Mrs. Betty said, her voice softening. "And yes, you two may stay for the night."

"But it's dangerous here. You don't even know this place," Aaron protested, his concern evident.

"We'll do our best to protect you from whoever might be lurking around to cause harm," Raine assured him calmly. "But first, what do you know about Amara? What's your connection to the case, aside from being her only friend?"

"Turner?" Aaron replied, his expression hardening. "Well, I've already said she was a bad influence on my wife."

"Could you elaborate?" Raine pressed, her tone steady, yet insistent.

"I didn't even want to know how she got involved with those creepy things she had no business meddling with," Aaron said, his voice laced with frustration. "Dark spirits aren't something to mess with."

"Interesting," Raine replied, taking another sip of her coffee, her eyes narrowing as she processed his words. "I didn't mention anything about her belief in dark magic."

"As her friend, she confided in my wife about these things. My wife would then tell me, and we agreed to keep it between ourselves-away from all those nosy people," Aaron continued, his irritation growing. "Gosh, I can't stand those chismosas!"

"What else?" Zane asked, leaning forward slightly.

"You should investigate her house," Betty advised. "Though it's currently under control due to the ongoing investigation." She paused, glancing at her husband before continuing. "Several young people around here are already curious about the case, causing trouble with the police stationed there."

"And soon, we'll be causing trouble with them, too," Raine whispered to herself, her words barely audible.

"You should see it at night," Betty added, her expression darkening. "Weird things happen-screeching sounds, broken glass, even though nothing's been touched, and shadows by the window that vanish the moment you blink."

"We'll find out more later," Raine said, finishing her coffee. She set the cup down with a quiet clink. "We'll start looking for clues before night falls."

They stepped outside, the windy September air brushing against their faces as they stood in front of the vast field. The expanse seemed endless, stretching out before them.

"They received the red-coloured letter, too," Zane remarked, his gaze scanning the field. "Though the contents were different for them-nothing like our blood-dripped letter."

"Yes, I heard that," Raine replied, her eyes fixed on the horizon, where the western sky blended with distant mountains, their peaks bathed in the fading light.

"Are you sure we're sleeping here tonight? What about Auntie Clara? Will she be alright?" Zane asked.

"She will be," Raine answered confidently. "Miss Eteri said she and her friends would take over our flat tonight, working undercover, as she mentioned in her text."

"You're sure you can trust her?" Zane asked, his tone tinged with doubt. "The rose petals were inside the envelope she had, too."

"But that sender had pink ones-pink envelope and plenty of pink rose petals," Raine replied. "The killer we're after has their own signature colour-crimson."

"Tonight, Mr. Suarez will be on guard. He probably won't sleep," Raine continued. "There's a chance he'll roam the house, locking doors and windows again."

"What's so terrifying? The witch theory, the aswangs, or that symbol?" Zane asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"I think it's that superstitious mind of his that keeps messing with his head," Raine answered, her tone steady. "It's hard to say exactly what he'll do next."

"About what?" Zane asked, his brow furrowing.

"That would be answered by the single red rose petal that appeared on their doorstep," Raine replied, her gaze distant. "I hope their relationship will be alright." She paused, then continued, "As you know, it symbolizes death-or the death of a loved one. And as a father, Mr. Aaron Suarez will do everything in his power to protect his family from what he believes are dark spirits."

"Do you think he has a connection with Amara Turner?" Zane asked. "I know he was against her, but still..."

"I presume," Raine answered. "We all have our own beliefs, Mr. Nuñez."

"I agree, but now that you've said that, I hope you won't judge my beliefs anymore," Zane murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Anyway, dark spirits can exist inside the minds of people," Raine said, her voice calm but firm. "The mind is so powerful it can make something seem real to us, even when it doesn't exist."

"So much mental work in this case, isn't it?" Zane asked, glancing at Raine.

"Oh, yes," Raine replied, her gaze steady on him. "Did you bring my dart gun?"

"You have a dart gun? Where did you get it?" Zane asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Oh, right. It's in my bag," she answered, gesturing toward her shoulder bag.

"You have a bag? Gosh, I'm not prepared for an overnight," Zane muttered.

"Well, don't worry. I'll let Ms. Eteri-our helper, as she calls herself-worry about that," Raine said with a grin. "Now, let's get moving. The pieces are in place. The board is set!"