They say long ago, Bathala and the other gods walked the archipelago. Not in temples. Not in dreams. But on the soil, barefoot, bloodstained, breathing. They ruled not with mercy, but with memory. Each river bore their voice. Each mountain, their wrath. Offerings were made. Oaths were broken. Kingdoms rose and rotted in their name.

Then came the silence.

A silence too heavy, too sudden. Like a scream swallowed by the sea. The old names were buried. The sigils burned. And the gods... forgotten.

But the islands remember.

Beneath the fields, something still breathes. In the farthest provinces where the stars shine brightest, the old blood still stirs. Children vanish on moonless nights. Creatures crawl from the mangroves with bone in their teeth. And in the silence between lightning and thunder, some swear they hear voices. Ancient, mournful, waiting to be worshipped again. And on nights when the stars vanish, the old blood rises again.

Maybe the gods never left. Gone, they are not, but only hidden behind the faces of men.




Written by: Cadlaon
Copyrights2025

This is a work of fiction. It's about the Philippine Gods. Names, characters, events, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to others' stories, works, actual persons, living or dead, and actual events is purely coincidental.


The story may contain light to extreme violence, suggestive themes, sex, strong language, suicide, self-harm, and cannibalism, which may not sit well with some readers.


Chapter 1 - Author's Note