In 1976, the halls of De La Salle University
buzzed with whispers of the new spirit medium in
the anthropology department. His name was
Roderick Delgado, a quiet student from a small
barangay who could see the dead—but only if he
let them in. His gift had landed him in the
elite school, but not without cost. His father,
once a barangay leader, had vanished under
suspicious circumstances during the early years
of martial law, and Roderick had spent his
childhood chasing ghosts in the shadows of his
own home.
His rival was Esteban Reyes, a sharptongued son
of a wealthy businessman who saw Roderick as an
embarrassment to the university’s prestige.
Esteban had no use for folklore or superstition,
and he made it clear at every turn: Roderick’s
place in the class was only temporary. Their
clash reached a peak during the annual Pamana
Festival, where students presented research on
Philippine heritage. Roderick’s project focused
on the diwata spirits of Mount Banahaw, while
Esteban’s was about modernizing indigenous
beliefs through Western science.
The rules were clear: any research involving
supernatural elements had to be approved by the
faculty, and only one student could present on
such a topic. Esteban used his influence to
block Roderick, forcing him to choose between
abandoning his work or risking expulsion. But
the spirits had other plans. That night, as
Roderick walked alone through the university
library, a cold wind swept through the building.
The lights flickered, and the air grew thick
with the scent of burning incense. A figure
appeared in the window—a woman in a tattered
haba dress, her face halfeaten by time. She was
his mother, long presumed dead, and she pointed
toward the archives.
Roderick knew the rules: touching the forbidden
texts would awaken something that should stay
buried. But he also knew the truth—his father
had been silenced for uncovering a ritual that
bound the spirits of the land to the ruling
elite. The same ritual Esteban’s family had
helped enact.
He broke the rule. He opened the book.
The spirits rose, and the university trembled.
Esteban, who had mocked Roderick all semester,
found himself trapped in a vision of his
ancestors’ sins. The spirits did not kill him,
but they made him remember—what his family had
done, what his father had hidden. As the
festival began, Roderick stood before the crowd,
not as a student, but as the bridge between the
living and the dead. He spoke of sacrifice, not
as a loss, but as a way to heal.
Esteban, humbled and broken, stepped forward and
offered his research notes to Roderick. The
rivalry ended not with a fight, but with a
shared understanding. And though the spirits had
left, their presence lingered in the stories
told after that night—stories of a man who chose
to see the truth, even when it burned him.
