I was looking at a brown-skinned guy with spiky hair. Kent. For some reason, he was holding a riot shield. He charged the Shade, along with the other soldiers to form a blockade and allow us to escape.

  And what happened in reality also happened in this dream. The Shade, with its scythe-blade, cut through the riot shields and the soldiers in half. The only difference is that Kent is one of the soldiers now.

  When I turned around to run, I saw Eris on my side, keeping pace. I've heard a whistle. Suddenly, a piece of wood erupted out of Eris' neck. The momentum of our run causes Eris to hit the ground hard, face first.

  I thought of helping Eris up so I stopped and turned around. But someone else was kneeling next to her limp body.

  Demi.

  "My hands," Demi cried. He was trying to lift Eris up. But he doesn't have his hands. What he does have are bleeding stumps where his hands were supposed to be. He managed to lift one of Eris's arms a few centimeters off the ground before the blood made it slip off of his stumps. Demi looked me in the eyes. "Vergil, help me."

  But behind them, the Shade was closing in on them. So instead of helping, I turned heel and ran. I was breathing heavily. My chest was pounding. But I ran. And abandoned my friends to their fates.

  "What do you think will happen when they found out?" Azgarmoth's voice boomed in my mind.

  "Have you forgotten why Eris died?"

  Then I tripped. I hit the ground hard. Frantic to get away, I ignored the pain and pushed myself off of the ground. I turned around to see what tripped me.

  And there, lying on the ground, with a nasty gash on her forehead, was Eris. My foot was caught on between her legs. A veil of blood was running down her face.

  Then she opened her eyes. Blood-shot, seething eyes were directed at me. "You abandoned me!"

  My eyes flew open to the shaking of my shoulder.

  "Vergil," Cana said. Her face was the first thing I saw when my eyes opened. "We're here." She said. I found myself leaning to the window of my seat. As I was in the window seat, I took a look outside. We were parked across the street. There was a busy flow of foot traffic filing into the gated entrance of the university. A logo was embossed above. It reads: Bastillio State University.

  Major Coleman, who's been in charge of keeping us alive these past couple of weeks, had called for us to come down.

  "Remember, " he said, as we lined up in the bus aisle to get off. "You are not haunteds. You are the fortunate students of St. Aquinas Classroom-on-Wheels here for a history lesson. So act like one."

  We fall in line with the actual students of the university, waiting to pass through the turnstiles and 2 guards.

  It was my idea. After we defeated the Shade—the supernatural shadow who had been killing us haunteds for decades—who turned out to be the founder of the cult, Daniel Cruz, I was forced to make a decision. I made a deal with Daniel's god, Azgarmoth. And Azgarmoth kept true to his word. He took Daniel who was going to kill us. In exchange, I opened the seal. Just one seal out of twelve. But even just that one seal proved to be catastrophic.

  Because a couple of weeks later, another military installation containing sensitive information about our safehouse—Biringan—was attacked by an army of Shades. When there has always been only one Shade for decades. And only the cultists had the knowledge to create Shades in the first place, so it was agreed that the cultists were still alive and quite active. And the timing of it all suggested that the one seal opened was the cause of the cult's new newfound strength.

  So that's why we're here. To talk to the history professor about ancient rituals and traditions of our city, Bastillio, that may help us figure out how to re-seal the one I opened. Because as we found out the hard way, some of the myths and legends are real.

  The plan kicked off with the usual routine – disguises and a clever backstory. We were supposed to be out-of-school youths enrolled in this supposedly recently launched education initiative of the city. And the history professor we're about to meet is our first subject of the day.

  Major Coleman didn't come here as Major Coleman, but as our teacher/homeroom adviser. He brought a dozen of soldiers, too. Men and women, handpicked because of the tiniest resemblance they bear to us, dressed as either our parents or chaperones since this is supposed to be a new program so having guardians with us would help sell the story, I guess.

  Major Coleman had planned to have us meet the professor someplace else, and have him discuss to us inside the mobile bus, which is the entire point. To lessen collateral damage, as he put it, should things go south. Which, given our track record, things will most certainly will.

  But the professor mentioned of someplace that might be the point of origin of the myth near this university so we have no choice but to meet with him here. Because to be honest, we don't even know what we are looking for. All we have are phrases we've got from our encounter with Daniel Cruz, the original Shade. He said something about the Primordials, us zodiacs-borns, and the main reason for this "program"—information about the myth of the celestials and the star people. So we have to be thorough.

  So, here we are. A day after Major Coleman sent that email setting the meeting for next week. Major Coleman thought that the surprise visit would ensure we remained incognito, just in case someone else read that email.

  When we got close to the guards, Major Coleman had a quick chat with them. The guards redirected us and our "parents" to the side gate, where there is no metal detector. They didn't even inspect us. Major Coleman's false credentials is working as intended.

  We climbed up a few steps till the concrete steps turned into brown tiles, with the university logo and name taking the conspicuous center of the area. Major Coleman went to our left. It was a room with a large window. Below its window, there was metallic lettering embedded which spelled: "INFORMATION". Apparently, Major Coleman had to sign us in as visitors.

  Right across the information desk were several seats, fixed to the floor. There were only six seats and I don't think Major Coleman would take a long time so I decided to remain standing. I just woke up anyway, so I wasn't really eager sit down again.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Across the floor, there was a steady stream of students passing through the hallway just in front of the stairs and elevator. Next to it was an image of the patron saint of the university, St. John the Baptist.

  Really, not that different from our high school. Except for the students. Who were not wearing uniforms. I only recognized them as students now because of the purple-bright lanyard they were wearing around their necks. The lanyards were wide enough so that you could easily read the university name printed on it.

  "They don't have uniforms in colleges?" Scarlet asked.

  "In some colleges and universities," Caprice said. "But our school Peregrine, is a combined school. We have elementary, high school up to college all in one campus. And not once have I seen a college student in our campus not wearing uniform."

  I decided not to join in on their conversation. I didn't have anything to say anyway. My attention was spent on these college students. Living their carefree student lives...while we're here in incognito mode, trying our darn hardest to survive. Sometimes, I think of just walking up to one of them and tell them I'm a haunted. Just to see their reaction. Just to ruin their fun. I wonder how they will react. They will definitely be surprised but will they take me seriously? Probably not. After all, no haunteds is supposed to be here.

  I stopped myself before my thoughts go any more darker. I know getting angry at them for something they have nothing to do about is terrible but I can't help but feel frustrated about how unfair all of this is. Why do I have to be haunteds? Why can't I be the one laughing at my classmate's stupid story? Why do I have to deal with the Shades and the cult? I want to worry about my report, which hero is better for support, or try the new yakiniku shop at the mall.

  The things I took for granted...

  Back then, before I was a haunted, I thought getting a bad grade was the end of the world. Now, If we don't find a way to undo my mistake, it will literally be the end of this world!

  "All rights, students," Major Coleman said. "Let's go meet the professor."

  We followed Major Coleman to the left. In front of us was another group of students. Compared to them, who were noisy and rowdy, like what you would expect from a group of students, none of us were particularly chatty.

  After learning that the cultists still exist and that they have infiltrated various aspects of society, no one can blame them for being on the edge. Hell, our school nurse from Padua High, Aaron, turned out to be a cultist! And he's been employed there long before I even enrolled there.

  I watched Cana admiring the open grounds of the university.

  She turned to me. Smiling. Serene. Just drinking in this new experience in front of her. As if there is not an army of shadow demons hellbent on killing us.

  "Have you ever thought where you'd go for college?"

  I raised an eyebrow. "You're thinking of college?"

  "Aren't you?"

  "Ever since that night...," I said. "Realizing my mistake, seeing this deity, this powerful god...and knowing that I put this world at his feet...there just wasn't space for anything else in my mind..."

  Her smile melted. Her serene look was replaced with worry. She gripped my hand in hers.

  The small, bite wounds on my neck, courtesy of the Shade/Daniel Cruz, started hurting again so my hand mindlessly touched them. It just starts hurting whenever I am reminded of the Shade or the cult or really about anything related to two weeks ago. Even though the wounds already healed a weeks ago.

  This is another souvenir our encounter with the Shade left me, other than the nightmares where I relieved the deaths of other haunteds and the people trying to protect us but with the details wrong and all mixed-up.

  "You okay?" Cana repeated, looking up at my wound.

  "Yeah," I said. "Stupid scar is acting up."

  The bell rings. Our conversation stopped as we gave way to a wave of students coming out of the room. Among them, was a stout, middle-aged man, with a barber's cut cleanly parted in the middle, and a bolbous nose where his glasses perched upon.

  "Professor Villarosa, I'm Mr. Thomas," Major Coleman said. "The one from the email?"

  "Mr. Thomas, yes," Professor said. His face lit up with the recognition but immediately contorted into a confused look. "Forgive me but I believe the meeting is to be had next week?"

  "Yes, it is, professor," Major Coleman said. "But there has been a terrible mix-up. And I was hoping that you would consider moving up the meeting to today."

  "And of course," Major Coleman said. He brought out a white envelope from the pocket of his jacket. "Because the mistake was on our part, we will make it up to you, quite handsomely."

  The professor's eyes grew wide as he inspect the content of the white envelop. "T-that's...d-double of what we've agreed upon."

  "I take it that's a yes to my request?" Major Coleman said with a sly smile.

  The professor was silent for a moment. "Thank you for the generous offer. But I apologize. I am unprepared," Professor said. "I still have the slides—"

  Major Coleman took the professor to the side. I only picked up parts of the conversation because Major Coleman started talking in a low voice.

  "cannot fail...make this....success," Major Coleman whispered. "...something...and...triple your rate."

  The professor looked up to Major Coleman. Then to us. Then he looked back again to Major Coleman and nodded.

  "Well, you're in luck 'cause I just happened to wrap up my 7:00," Professor said In a normal volume. "And my next class is still later at 3:30 pm."

  "Guess luck's on our side today," Major Coleman said, winking at us.

  But it wasn't luck. Prior to this meeting, Major Coleman already knew the schedule of the professor. And Major Coleman really sold the desperate-adult-trying-to-fix-his-screw-up well. And the promise of tripling his payment might be the last push needed. Whatever the case, the professor was in.

  "I believe you want to learn more about the myth and legends of our city Bastillio, right?"

  "That is correct, professor," Major Coleman confirmed.

  "Well, we have lots to talk about," The professor said. "And this classroom is only vacant for the next hour and a half. So we better get started."

  After we took our seats, the professor began his introduction.

  "Hello, everyone, my name is Professor Arnold Y. Villarosa. I have been teaching History and Sociology in this university for the last twenty-five years," The professor said. "Now, in my class, as per your teacher's request, you will learn about various beliefs, traditions, myths, legends and even superstitions of our city. First, let's start with the reason why you are here. And later on, if time still permits it, we will have a mini-field trip to one of the most historical places in this university."

  He pointed to the large Balete Tree looming in the sidewalk.

  So we sat down and listened to the lecture for the next hour. He talked about how the Balete Tree was believed to be home to some of the mythological creatures in our city, namely: the tall, hairy, and pipe-smoking giant, Kapre.

  "Moving on from Folklore to a more empirical-based fact," Professor said. "The tree was also believed to be the place where rituals and sorcery were conducted. As evidenced with these artifacts we've discovered. Come, come."

  We got out of our seats and followed him to the back of the classroom. The wall was occupied with a wooden cabinet with glass doors filled with various items. From a knife, a clay bowl, some sort of puppet and an opened, worn-out leather book filled with symbols and signs I cannot describe. It certainly doesn't look like anything we've seen from the cult.

  "The originals may be inside the Bastillio Museum now," Professor said. "But I can assure you, these replicas look exactly like the real ones."

  I noticed the crude knife had a placard on a stand next to it that contained the item's name, the description of the item, and the place and date it was discovered.

  "Bastillio State University," I read out loud. "It was found here?"

  "Inside the tree, to be specific," the professor said. He then pointed at it again. "The insides of the tree were found to be etched with the very same symbols you see in the book."

  Major Coleman gave me a look. "How was it discovered?" Major Coleman asked the professor.

  My attention was split between the professor's answer and the tree outside. The lecture had made my eyes wander aimlessly. I watched as people walked past the tree. Then notice the large sign next to it. It's too far for me to read. My eyes jump to our parked bus outside. Then remember our driver didn't come with us. Sure enough, I saw him in the driver's seat.

  He saw me looking at him and smiled. He started waving at me. But his smile disappeared in the flames as the bus erupted into a large fireball.