Moon-Eaters and Monsoons

MOON-EATERS & MONSOONS

by Rachel Evangeline Chiong

Nestled underneath a gauze of stars, the Gintuan Islands—named after its blazing golden sunsets—shone like precious stones among all the countries in the Mundo. In every country lived gods, whose health and happiness inexplicably reflected the country’s flourishing. From the dog-sized koi swimming in the hushed ponds of Ninemu, the fire-breathing ember-scaled dragon skulking the mountain range of Xie San, the pink-toed spider languishing within the jungles of Mheung Khao, to the Bakunawa—the great celestial-eating sea serpent of the Gintuan Islands, who surfaced from the ocean into the sky every solstice to whet its appetite with the moon. When the gods were happy, crops became bountiful, rain poured down, the trees grew firm with sap, and soft, fat animals multiplied.

So one season, to please the Bakunawa, the king and his council summoned every historian, artist, sky-reader, and architect across the islands to paint the palace ceilings a blue as deep as the ocean and a black as dark as morning-night, speckled with stars as bright as fireflies.

But as the construction progressed, mysterious maggots started to devour the rice fields and fierce monsoons flushed the capital with mud and disease. So the king and his council sent their finest veterinarians to the far corners of the islands to hunt the Bakunawa in hopes of discovering what had gone awry. 

•••

It was in Gintuan’s southernmost point, where the islands narrowed and tapered off like the end of a snake, that the twins Amihan and Habagat found themselves staring down the shoreline awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

Amihan’s knuckles had grown white from gripping the reins on his terra whale. He glowered at his brother’s silhouette against the afternoon sun. Habagat rode the animal with irritating confidence, having let go of the reins entirely to run his fingers through his short, wavy hair.

Amihan’s braid tickled his neck where sweat was beginning to prickle. His whole body was tense. His thighs stuck to the blubber of the terra whale that bobbed underneath him like a ship. Its stout and meaty gait left giant webbed footprints in the sand.

To Amihan, the terra whale was a terrifying creature. It stood twice his height, its length longer than three Laguna cows placed nose to tail. When he had tried to mount it earlier, its pebble-coloured, slippery flank had daunted him like an impenetrable wall.

The terra whales were the largest semi-aquatic animal in the Gintuan Islands—the in-between evolution of their whale kin. When the gargantuan fish decided to wander onto land, it grew limbs the size of tree trunks and knees as wrinkled as elephants, but with skin so absorbent it shone like marble. Ironically, some sentimental whale siblings longed for the ocean and eventually returned, shedding their fully mammalian nature; they became cursed with a blow hole. Their own biology forced them to remain near the surface, never to rejoin their ancient fish family who had disappeared somewhere along the deep, chilly waters of the north. But Amihan had seen the ‘cursed’ whales frolicking along the warm western coast, happy as could be, reveling in their fate.

He, on the other hand, sat miserably atop the smelly, moist animal, glaring at his brother.

Habagat had naturally claimed the front as they traveled in single file. The fresh air filled the easygoing twin’s lungs like a cool drink of water. It was a pleasant holiday compared to the city where the muggy atmosphere absorbed the pollution and heat like a sponge, he thought. 

Habagat had removed his shirt to let the rays warm him. The delightful heat spread from his shoulders to his chest like honey smeared on a soft pandesal. He stretched his hands over his head, letting the breeze cool his armpits. Here, he could actually smell nature with every lingering, content breath. The salty seaweed, the musk from the wet driftwood that washed up on the shallow, slowly sloping shore. Even the fragrant scent of the paste they had rubbed on their skin to protect them from the sun. Habagat recalled ruefully how Amihan stopped them before they left the ship. Habagat had to take a dollop of the sand-colored paste and hastily spread it over his arms and legs, faintly annoyed that they had to coat themselves with the filmy mixture. 

But Amihan had insisted. And if lathering on some horrid lotion was the price Habagat had to pay to pluck Amihan out of his lonesome laboratory and into an adventure that would save the nation, then he would do it.

Habagat craned his neck to check on his brother, who had been silent since they began their journey. “How’re you holding up, Amihan? You alright? We’re coming up to another island, so hold tight, you’ll be fine!”

Amihan kissed his teeth. His cheeks flushed. “Stop babying me, I know what I’m do—ahhh!”

His terra whale dove forward, having arrived at the end of the shore. Both whales ducked their heads underneath the water, tipping the twins in, before resurfacing. The terra whales paddled towards the neighbouring island like monstrous, naked ducks. Habagat unhooked his feet from the stirrups and swung around on his terra whale to face Amihan. He propped his legs up and rested his arms on his knees.

Lounging like we’re on a picnic! Amihan thought bitterly, as he met Habagat’s roguish grin.

Habagat threw him a bone. “Real nice, isn’t it? Finally, a chance to get out of the capital and away from all that construction, no?”

“Oh, sure,” Amihan replied.

“Did you get a chance to peek at the mural in the palace yet? I’ve heard the paint’s been specially engineered to sparkle like real stars. Did they make them at your lab? I haven’t even seen it yet. When I was there last, they rerouted the hallways so my little shortcuts to the grander rooms were all blocked off.”

“Habagat, I don’t get invited to the palace.”

“Come now, don’t be so humble.”

“I’m not. I haven’t been inside since we were children.”

“That’s not true, I’ve seen you skulking around the corners at the solstice bash.”

Amihan sighed. “Well, you’re mistaken, because I never go to parties.”

“Then, I’ll be sure to specially invite you to the next one.” Habagat released a satisfying groan as he stretched out on the terra whale’s rubbery back. “It’s been months since we’ve seen each other, people are beginning to forget I have a twin.”

Amihan looked away from his brother. He couldn’t bring himself to correct him. In fact, it had been years since the twins had spoken. 

Ironically, they had been inseparable as children. They were named after the two monsoons that dictated the lifecycle of the Gintuan Islands. Throughout the years, the twins had watched as the intertwining winds of their namesakes danced around the islands. The southwest habagat swept thunderously through the fields, irrigating crops and filling inland wells. Then following the hot monsoon’s billowing skirts, the northeast amihan crept in between mountains and inside valleys, cooling the land and softening the sun’s heat. People had watched with amusement as the twins mimicked this pattern. Habagat, storming through the capital’s gardens and alleyways headfirst, and like a friendly shadow, Amihan followed quietly in his wake.

But something had changed when the twins’ batoks surfaced. They were tattoo-like markings that emerged on the skin during puberty. Chosen children were blessed with powers and trained at the Academy to use their skills to care for the flora and beasts in the islands. When the twins woke up one morning, a string of vines appeared curling across Amihan’s collarbones, and a sinewy rope-like pattern snaked down Habagat’s right arm. That was the day their paths diverged.

At school, Amihan, who had always been shy, only became more morose until he was nothing more than a gloomy shadow haunting the class. He withered and buried himself in the lab and library, to pore over botany texts from dusk to dawn. Habagat, however, shone like the sun that emblemed the Gintuan Island’s golden arches. He dazzled teachers and peers, and could be easily spotted in the middle of an adoring crowd. Because Habagat’s department specialized in mammals, he had grown tan and sculpted from wrangling carabao and hauling sulcata tortoises across the campus.

Presently, Habagat relaxed shirtless on the terra whale’s back. Amihan turned his nose up.

“Could you take this a little more seriously?” he muttered. “We’re trying to save the island for gods’ sakes.”

“Mmm?” Habagat murmured sleepily.

“Forget it.”

Continued in Augur Magazine Issue 6.2...