My heart might as well be torn from my chest. I am alone. I cannot get out of bed. I cannot eat. I am pitiful. I cannot take care of myself, let alone take care of my people.
This was Yara’s diary.
How could Romulo have gotten his hands on such a thing? It must have been incredibly difficult to find, and no doubt expensive, too. I couldn’t stop reading. Her words seemed similar to how I’d been feeling. They resonated deep in my bones.
Something terrible is happening to me. A change has overcome my body.
I went to see the royal physician. She is a venerated mambabarang, with decades of expertise. She would know what is afflicting me.
She said that my heart has been damaged. No potion she’s brewed, no talisman, can cure me. She says that my affliction is too powerful for any medicine. I must marry another to mend what’s been broken.
Only a vow of true love is strong enough to break this curse.
A curse. My heart thumped as I turned the page.
Suitors from across the land have come to see me, but my transformation is quickening. I am afraid to let any of them see the monster I’ve become. The men visit me behind a curtain, ask to kiss my hand, but I will not let them. They cannot know that my hand has turned into claws. They will fear me the moment they know the truth.
One suitor, a prince from Avalon, attempted to pull the curtain back to see my face. He said he wanted to take in my beauty for himself, but I nearly clawed his eyes from his head out of fear. He’s now already engaged to someone else, after telling me how much he loved me only days ago.
No one will have me. I am alone.
I am running out of time. How can anyone love me enough to marry me?
I flipped the page, fearing I already knew what was going to happen.
I am more monster now than I am human. What few hours I have as myself I spend recording my days here in this journal. It reminds me of what I have, for when I become the monster, I no longer remember my own name. I cannot remember what it’s like to feel sand beneath my toes, the salt water on my legs, the taste of fresh fruit, or the warmth of sunshine on my skin. Such things sicken me. I hide indoors, fearing that anyone who sees me will know the hideousness that lurks within. Fewer suitors arrive on my doorstep. Rumors have started to spread. All know that a monster lurks in the palace.
The mambabarang says that with the waxing moon, the monster grows more powerful. When it is full, I will be a monster forever.
At night, my body separates. My upper half grows wings, and I soar through the kingdom, attacking anyone I find. A bounty has been put out on my head, but no one knows my true nature. I have killed. I truly am a monster. My own father fears me; my sisters abhor me. If I were to fall by a brave datu’s blade, I would know it was for the best.
I’ve sent myself away to live in the great house in the mountains. There, I will be sure not to hurt anyone. I will live in solitude for the rest of my days. I am resigned to my fate. Deep in my soul, I know that this is the last day I will have a human body, human hands to write, a human mind. Who would hate me so much to curse me so? My own family has disowned me. I fear I am already dead to them. I pray that no one will ever suffer like I have. No one deserves such a fate.
I have one last hope. One last chance to save myself. My power is my only salvation.
The last page was covered in hundreds of handwritten triangles. Delta signs. They were the same as the symbol on the empty tomb.
Change, change, change.
What did it mean? What did any of it mean? She was just like me. She was the manananggal all those years ago, and she had been right—the historians had made sure no one spoke her name ever again. She was worse than dead. Only one thing was for certain…
“Full moon,” I said, staring at the orange glow of the setting sun. “I only have five days left.”
16
My earswerestill ringing even when I left my room the following morning. I needed air. I had woken up feeling more terrible than ever. My wrists stung from where the shackles had burned me. The marks weren’t fading like they used to, so I had to cover them with a long-sleeved T-shirt.
Time was running out. If Yara’s destiny was what awaited me, I was going to turn into a manananggal in four days. Permanently.
I rushed from my room and stood in the sunlight, gasping for air that felt too thin here in the mountains, and yet it felt like it was closing in around me, trapping me. I barely noticed that anyone was awake until I heard the familiar din of the men from Jade Mountain, murmuring excitedly to themselves in the shade of nearby palm trees. Breakfast was served.
I cracked my eyes open to spot Qian among them, who by now had noticed I’d arrived. He was one of the last people I wanted to see, and I stuffed down my panic, quickly gathering myself to hide my racing heart.
“Just in time, Your Majesty,” Qian called over. “How are you feeling?”
Nix stood near him, arms folded tightly across her chest. She waited with a frown for me to answer. Obviously, she knew something was wrong.
“I’m okay, thank you,” I said. Nix’s frown deepened.
