𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄:
Far away from home
(1944)

AN: Content Warning, War.

"I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE," Corazon whispered in Japanese, voice breaking as she and Aika stood side by side, their gazes focused on the moon.

The moon, a steadfast companion to Corazon since she was a child, the moon witnessed her dreams and witnessed her nightmares come to life. It listened to her hopes and listened to her cries.

Under the moon's gentle radiance, Corazon finds herself lost in thought, reflecting on life's mysteries, her dreams, and her place in the grand tapestry of existence—her existence that seemed to be a painful realization that she has to live forever.

Immortality was something she never thought she'd gained in her life. Living forever was never in her mind because all she ever thought was that she would die young, with an unfulfilled life full of pain and agony.

To die in tragedy.

"But you have to," Aika mutters after moments of silence. She looked to her side, observing Corazon. It's been two years since she changed her to be a child of the night. She'd seen her, watched her take her revenge on the people who gave her pain—pain that she'd soon learned to enjoy inflicting.

The Red Lady of the North, headline after headline in the papers, the Lady of Justice, as some say.

The great defender of wronged women and executioner of vile men.

"It won't be long until they know your true identity, Corazon," Aika continues as Corazon clenches her jaw and places her hands on her face, leaning down on the wooden railings. She's reached this far. She's endured this far. She has done so much, yet she doesn't know when she'll be satisfied with the justice she tries to do.

Killing is a sin that she cannot deny; she won't ever know if she'll truly be forgiven. After all, god has not listened to her crying plea.

The fact will remain that he'll always be god, and she'll always only be Corazon, a girl.

A girl losing faith.

"Only for a while, Aika." Corazon finally looked up as their gaze connected, pleading in her ruby-red eyes. "I've reached this far."

"Are you not tired?" Aika suddenly asked with a frown. "This is not the life I wanted for you. I wanted you to escape, yet you stayed."

"I'm not a coward," Corazon frustratedly tells her, running a hand through her silky black hair.

"I'm not saying that you are," Aika quickly assures. Aika thought that Corazon was the toughest and fiercest woman she had known in her four centuries.

"I'm not leaving my people to find a better life in America while they suffer." Corazon pressed, fumbling with her fingers, cracking her knuckles. Her family has been searching for her tirelessly ever since she was reported missing in 1942. They never gave up, never lost their hope that their oldest daughter would return to them, alive—alive, that's all that matters.

"You've given enough," Aika says as she places a hand on Corazon's hand that she removes carefully. Touch, she never liked being touched anymore. She trusted Aika, her creator, but when she looked at her, she could only remember why she's been so miserable and couldn't even be with her family anymore.

Ever since the night she disappeared. Corazon was never the same; her life was never the same. And as the night sky as her witness, she hated the wretched Japanese soldiers that touched her—she vowed to take revenge, and that was what she did.

She killed hundreds of Japanese soldiers.

"Is it?" Corazon asks with a painful smile on her ethereal features.

"It is," Aika firmly answers, "You've done enough. Japan is retreating, their war with China, they're losing numbers, it won't be long before they stop."

"Will it ever?" Corazon released a forced laugh. "We've been colonized by Spain and America, too! And now Japan? What foreign country is next to place my country into another destruction and devastation? Will the Philippines ever gain independence?" Her hands formed into a fist, anger evident on her face as Aika pursed her lips.

"That's why you'll leave, and I'll stay. I'll ensure that the Japanese will surrender." Aika tells her. It's why she was in the Philippines in the first place.

Aika has been alive for four centuries. She has witnessed wars from beginning to end, seen the outcome of battles—from maltreatment, torture, murder, and every other worst unimaginable form of scenario that they inflicted on innocent people, and how it leaves a tragedy to both the land and the people. She disagreed with what her country had done. Exploiting another country is against her morals.

How difficult it is to rebuild a country after the war. How the scars it left will never fully heal.

"My family..." Corazon trails off as she once again looks up towards the moon, once again witnessing her pain. Her father endlessly searched for his missing daughter, and her mother prayed. Her sisters remained in confinement for safety, and her brothers joined the resistance movement—the Guerillas.

"Visit them one last time," Aika answers, tone full of sincerity.

"Do you think I can control it?" Corazon worriedly asks. Her thirst for blood vengeance meant she had complete control over her senses when it came to killing, yet she never combined killing and feeding.

"You have to," Aika tells her, "Think of them as the people you love and want to protect. Control your urges. I've taught you well." Now, her tone is smug. A grin was directly placed on her lips. Aika taught her everything, including how to control herself on demand. How to kill without being noticed or detected. How to control her gift.

A gift, she needs to find out if it's a blessing or a curse. To take the pain and to also give it—to control the mind. It's one of the reasons for her successful vengeance. Control the mind, take every inch of control they had within themselves because they stole hers.

"That you did," Corazon chuckled, then sighed heavily. Corazon looked back at Aika once again. "How about you? After all of this?"

"I haven't thought of it. You know, spontaneous decisions are my favorite." Aika answers with a shrug. "After the war, I'll go to America, and we'll surprise each other." She wasn't concerned about what he'd do after this or where he'd go. She had experienced enough for the last centuries to know that wherever she may flee or be, she'll survive.

"Promise me that we'll see each other again," Corazon tells her. Aika nods firmly, "I promise, Corazon," Corazon smiles. After being away from her family for two years, the closest thing she ever felt to a feeling of familiarity was Aika, her sister, not by blood but by companionship and understanding.

"I'll leave by tonight. Some American troops are sailing back to the U.S. for supplies." Corazon finally says.

"I'll see you then."

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

"INANG," Mother, Corazon whispers, stepping inside her parent's bedroom, her mother kneeling by the altar in a quiet and contemplative corner. Above the altar table hangs a crucifix, an image of the Virgin Mary, and a small statue of Santo Niño—the Child Jesus. Her mother held a rosary in her hand as she muttered a prayer in the darkness, with the candle only illuminating in the shadows.

"Inang," Corazon repeats. Then she hears her mother cite a prayer in spanish, "Dios te salve, María, llena eres de gracia, el Señor es contigo. Bendita tú eres entre todas las mujeres, y bendito es el fruto de tu vientre, Jesús. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros, pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte. Amen."

Her mother finally stood, turning around, facing her daughter, "An answered prayer," She took a step forward, so confident, so assured with her actions, continuing in Tagalog. "A miracle from God, my daughter's spirit, finally visiting me after two years. Have you come to guide me to heaven? Because I'll go with you, anak." She finally stood before her daughter, the darkness shading Corazon's body.

"I think I won't be welcomed in heaven, Inang," Corazon answers softly. Her mother released a 'tsk' as she shook her head in dismissal.

"Let me see you," Her mother says, touching Corazon's cheek. She didn't flinch from the coldness, only welcomed it further; all that mattered was that her daughter was alive. Corazon shook her head.

Corazon gently took her mother's hand, brushing the back of her hand on her forehead. "Mano po." Her mother hums, taking her hand away from her daughter as she turns around, taking the candle from the altar, the light slowly showing Corazon's standing figure as she returns to her daughter.

"Oh, anak," Her mother whispers. She stood before Corazon with a worried, painful expression as her eyes scanned her daughter from head to toe.

Her daughter looked more than fine from Corazon's smooth, light golden tan skin, long silky black hair that reached her waist, and perfect complexion. She looked like a goddess, an angel from heaven, but then her eyes, ruby red eyes that resembled the shade of blood, yet it wasn't the color that concerned her mother, but how Corazon's eyes were filled with agony.

"What have they done to you?" Her mother placed a hand on her cheek again, thumb caressing Corazon's face softly; her touch brought her comfort.

"Inang, I have sinned," Corazon admits as she closes her eyes.

"I forgive you," Her mother answered in an instant. "You are my daughter. You've been gone for two years. Whatever you did, I forgive you. As long as you're here now, everything will be fine." Tone full of assurance and understanding. Oh, how Corazon missed her mother.

"I'll only put you in danger," Corazon shakes her head. "Explain it to me, anak. We'll resolve it."

Corazon explained everything, from the day she was abducted in 1942—what they had done to her, what she had endured, to her being turned into a child of the night—to what in Filipino myths considered a Danag, a demon of the night, to what she did to avenge herself from killing hundreds and a thousand Japanese soldiers, her mother had read the newspapers, read about the Red Lady of the North.

In some way, she hoped that the Lady of Justice had done right by her daughter, but she didn't know it was her daughter.

Her mother took both hands in hers, "We'll make a way." She softly patted her palms as her mother stood up from her seat, taking a large leather bag from the wooden cabinet. Opening the last drawer from the cabinet with a key, her mother filled the bag with stacks of money and a framed photograph of their family.

"Inang?" Corazon questions as she follows her mother's movements, with her mother beginning to scramble around the bedroom. Corazon follows her when she exits the bedroom. Her sisters are asleep, and her father and brothers are gone for the night.

Corazon entered her old bedroom. A sense of familiarity brushed over her. She looked around, reminiscing. It looked the same as it was two years ago.

Her mother began packing her clothes, "You need to go to America." She placed all of Corazon's legal documents and an album filled with captured memories inside the bag.

"I cannot risk losing you again, Corazon. But this country has taken too much from you. As much as I don't want to be separated from you again. You'll be safer abroad." Corazon placed a hand on her mother's shoulder. Her mother's movement stopped abruptly, turning around and facing Corazon.

"I love you so much, Corazon. I can finally have peace, knowing that you're alive." Her mother tells her as she leans into Corazon's, hugging her, her head on the crook of her daughter's neck. Corazon's breathing halted. Calming herself as Corazon delicately hugged her mother.

"Paano sila Tatang?" What about my siblings and Father?, Corazon mutters.

Her mother pulled away, holding Corazon's shoulder, "They'll be okay. I'll make sure of it. But I need you to be safe, even if you'll be far away from here." Tears fell on her mother's cheek. She wiped it away, turning around, not wanting to show her daughter weakness because she needed to be strong for the both of them.

Her mother closed the bag, placing it on the bed. Corazon lay in her bed, smelling the bed covers. It smelled so familiar; it smelled like home. The burning sensation in her throat was overpowered by the scent of her childhood home, and her mother lay beside her, hugging her once again.

"Send me a letter when you arrive, anak." It wasn't a request or a command.

"Opo," Corazon laughs softly.

"Mahal na mahal kita, anak," Her mother whispers, and Corazon lets herself sink into her mother's embrace.

"Te quiero mucho, madre."

•| ⊱✿⊰ |•

THE LAND OF HOPE AND OPPORTUNITY. Of course, that's what the Americans in the Philippines boasted about their beloved country, even though they stole the hope and opportunities of the natives.

The night sky appeared to be a vast tapestry of stars. In between cloud wisps, the fading crescent moon played hide-and-seek. The ship's ominous form seemed to carve a passage through the darkness, illuminated only by the far-off beacons of harbor lights.

The only sounds that pierced the obsidian sea's silence were the engines' repetitive hum and the waves' soft lapping against its hull. On board, American soldiers gathered around the ship's railings, their faces glowing softly from the deck's dim lighting from the lanterns. However, Corazon remained seated in the shadows.

The city's lights got brighter and more distinct as the ship approached the docks, showing they were part of a thriving metropolis. The waterfront, which had just been a distant flicker, had suddenly spread out before the ship's prow, exposing piers, cranes, and freight containers.

A symphony of sounds, including the quiet hum of the engines, the metallic clang of chains and cables, and the far-off echoes of city life, welcomed the ship's arrival. On the docks, harbor workers with lanterns were waiting to moor the vessel to its berth. The ship's horn blasted a deep, melancholy tone throughout the night to announce their arrival.

Passengers started to exit as the gangplank slid down with a groan and clatter. Corazon was the last to leave the ship, not wanting to join the crowd, nor was she excited to welcome this unfamiliar territory.

Alone, in a foreign country, who could've imagined. She'd been on board for weeks. She had a lot of time to think about what she'd do when she arrived but none that she was thrilled about, especially because she isn't fond that she can't wander around with the sun up and shining—on her skin, it's annoying.

Corazon carried her leather bag as she walked on the pier. The weathered cobblestone walkway stretched ahead is illuminated by the pools of light each lamppost casts. The tangy smell of saltwater and the distant murmur of the metropolis filled the air.

Corazon found herself stopping at a bus stop. A solitary lamppost stood guard over the small shelter, its light casting a warm glow on the empty benches. The sign displayed timetables and routes, though the information was meaningless to her with nocturnal wanderings.

Corazon sat on the bench, relishing the lamppost's solitude and quiet companionship. The world around her paused momentarily, allowing her to reflect on the journey that had brought her here. That leaving is the best choice for herself.

A subtle movement caught her attention from the corner of her eye. A figure emerged from the shadows, approaching the shelter with an ethereal grace that seemed almost surreal. Corazon's stance became guarded and rigid.

The woman that sat beside her wasn't human but like her.

The stranger moved with a silent elegance, her movements as fluid as a dance. Corazon couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and curiosity at her presence.

Especially with the stranger's confidence to converse with a fellow stranger.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" She remarked, her voice as melodious as a serenade.

Corazon, surprising herself, nodded in agreement, "It is. There's something beautiful hidden in the night's silence." Strangely, she suddenly felt comfortable with what seemed like a perfect stranger.

The stranger nods in agreement. "Oh, I couldn't agree more. The night holds its special kind of magic, full of secrets and possibilities."

As they shared this tranquil moment beneath the lamplight, the woman turned her gaze toward Corazon, her eyes filled with curiosity. "You know," she said, "I feel you're meant for extraordinary adventures. Life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it."

Her words resonate deeply within Corazon, igniting a spark of curiosity and possibility. "Are you clairvoyant? I couldn't help but notice that you're confident with your notions,"

"And if I tell you that I am?" The stranger laughs, almost melodic.

"I'll surprisingly believe you," Corazon, too, laughs, which sounded like the ringing of wind chimes.

"My name's Alice," She introduced herself, "Yes, only Alice, I don't know my full name. A story for another time," Alice continued as if she knew what Corazon would ask.

"And you're Corazon Cecelia Salvador." Alice continues, and Corazon looks at her, impressed. Alice suddenly stood up. Her movements were bouncy and cheery. She looked at Corazon with an enthusiastic smile.

"Why don't you join me?" Alice suggested, giving out her hand. "We can find a home together with our kind," Corazon didn't know what made her agree, but she took Alice's hand without a second thought.

"I'd like you to meet someone," Alice said carefully.

Corazon raised a questioning brow, "Who?"

It was then that another figure, tall and lean, emerged from the shadows nearby. His skin is a beautiful shade of golden tan. His rose-gold eyes intrigued Corazon. His hair, a honey-blonde shade, falls in artful disarray, adding a touch of wildness to his otherwise composed demeanor. He carries himself with a sense of restrained poise, his every movement deliberate and controlled as he appears before them.

"Good evenin' ma'am," His voice is a melodic blend of Southern gentility and calm authority. Corazon tilted her head, ruby red eyes connecting to rose gold eyes.

Corazon hesitantly answers politely, the same way he greeted her with politeness, "Good evening, sir."

"Please, call me Jasper. No need for formalities, ma'am." He refrained from grinning. When Corazon was talking to Alice, the pixie vampire tried to ease Corazon's discomfort with her presence. At the same time, he waited for Alice's cue before he made his presence known.

He first laid eyes on her there—a woman with an air of timeless elegance, her silhouette illuminated by the gentle glow of the lamplight. She had just stepped off a ship that had anchored nearby, and in the stillness of the night, her presence produced a bewitching atmosphere.

Her ruby-red eyes possessed a quiet intensity that seemed to reflect his own, and her hair, a waterfall of black waves, shimmered like threads of midnight silk. The white dress she wore flowed effortlessly with the gentle night breeze.

"Yet you can be formal, sir? How rude of me," Corazon remarked, and Jasper let himself finally smile. "Corazon, not ma'am, makes me feel old."

"Whatever you please, Corazon," Jasper tells her, and Alice looks between them, eyes almost sparkling. She looks giddy as she observes Corazon and Jasper's first interaction.

It was the night when two lost souls had finally found each other.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

━━ I am establishing a new rule that I won't update any chapters until the previous chapter I posted isn't receiving the amount of attention/hype (comments & votes) I would have preferred, so this time I know that ya'll actually want to read my updates. This might get a weekly update if I am satisfied with the feedback!

━━ The chapters for SINTA are longer than the chapters in my other fics! This has 3K words! And as well as the first chapter!