Chapter 7: When Hearts Shift
Isle of Immortals Book One · Filipino Mythology Romantasy
by Ayin Quijano
Five days nursing a stranger back to health.
That was all it took to unravel eighteen years of training.
Liya didn’t realize she was falling for the monster she was raised to kill.
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When the star fell, Liya’s world shifted.
She should have been furious. The Bakunawa—her life’s purpose, her greatest hunt—had vanished into the night. She should have been tearing through the Kagubatan, tracking broken branches and displaced stone. She should have been consumed with finding it.
But she wasn’t.
For five days, she’d barely left the room.
Liya sat on the edge of the sleeping mat, wringing out a cloth in a basin of cool water. Moonlight filtered through the woven bamboo walls of the healing hut, casting silver patterns across Lakan’s sleeping form.
For five days, he’d done little more than drift in and out of fever dreams.
She laid the damp cloth across his forehead, her fingers lingering a moment too long against his skin. Still warm, but cooler than yesterday. The fever was breaking.
“Drink,” she murmured, lifting his head and pressing a cup to his lips.
He swallowed reflexively, eyes still closed, then sank back into sleep.
Liya set the cup aside and sat back, studying him in the dim light.
This was madness.
She was the First Daughter of the Moon—trained to hunt immortals, to protect humanity, and to never falter. And yet here she was, sitting vigil over a stranger while the greatest prize of her life slipped through her fingers.
What’s wrong with me?
“You’re still here.”
Amaya’s voice drifted from the doorway.
Liya didn’t turn. “He needs care.”
“We have healers for that.”
“They’re busy.”
“Liya.” Amaya stepped inside and sat beside her. “You haven’t trained in three days. You barely eat. And you definitely haven’t slept.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re staring at him like Sora looks at her favorite rice cakes before training,” Amaya said lightly. “Like she really wants to eat the whole basket but knows Inang Tala would skin her alive.”
Liya jerked, scowling. “I am not staring.”
Amaya grinned. “Oh, I’m telling everyone. Our fearless leader—felled not by a dragon but by a half-dead man.”
Liya flicked water at her.
Amaya dodged, laughing quietly, then sobered. “You like him.”
Heat crept up Liya’s neck. “I don’t—”
“You do,” Amaya said gently. “And it’s okay. He’s… well.” Her gaze flicked to the mat. “Look at him.”
Liya did.
Even unconscious, even injured, there was something about him that radiated strength. He was tall—taller than most men she’d known. Broad-shouldered, bronze skin etched with tribal tattoos that mirrored her own. His face, relaxed in sleep, was striking—sharp jaw, high cheekbones, lips softer than they had any right to be on a man built like a warrior.
“I don’t understand this,” Liya said quietly.
“What?”
“This,” she gestured vaguely. “I’ve faced warriors my entire life. Trained with the best. Fought the worst. And I’ve never—”
She swallowed. “Is this what you feel? When you talk about wanting a husband? A family?”
Amaya’s expression softened. “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t felt it yet.” She bumped Liya’s shoulder. “But I think you might be.”
“Might be what?”
“Falling.”
The word struck like an arrow.
Falling.
Liya opened her mouth to deny it—then closed it.
How else could she explain the way her heart raced when he was near? The territorial edge she felt when Hana suggested someone else take over his care? The excuses she made to touch him—checking his temperature, adjusting blankets, brushing hair from his face?
“I don’t even know him,” Liya whispered.
“Not yet,” Amaya said, squeezing her hand. “But you want to.”
Yes.
Goddess help her—she did.
The following morning, Lakan woke fully.
Not the half-lidded, fever-drowned stirring of the past days, but true awareness. His breath hitched, then steadied. His fingers twitched, then curled.
He cracked one eye open.
Wooden beams overhead. Woven walls. The scent of herbs and moonflowers. Morning light streaming through bamboo slats.
Where—
Memory slammed back. The arrow. The fall. The fireflies.
Liya.
He pushed himself upright. His body protested but obeyed. Better than before.
“You’re awake.”
Her voice.
Lakan turned. Liya knelt beside him, holding a bowl that smelled of ginger and honey.
She looked exhausted. Beautiful, but exhausted. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her braid was coming loose, strands escaping to frame her face.
Had she been here the whole time?
Something warm stirred in his chest.
He crushed it.
“How long?” His voice was rough.
“This is the sixth day since we found you.”
Six days.
Ali. He’d promised three.
“You should eat.” She offered the bowl.
Lakan wanted to refuse. Wanted to keep his distance and remember who she was.
But he was starving.
And she was looking at him with something soft in her eyes—something that made his traitorous heart stumble.
He took the bowl with a scowl.
Her lips twitched.
The soup was perfect. Warm. Savory. He drained it quickly and handed the bowl back, perhaps with more force than necessary.
“More?”
“No.”
“You’ve barely eaten.”
“I said no.”
She didn’t argue. Just set the bowl aside with maddening patience.
Stop being an ass, he told himself. She saved your life.
That was the problem.
She made it too easy to forget she was a Daughter of the Moon—trained to kill his kind. And yet she sat close, smelling of herbs and steel, looking at him with concern instead of calculation.
She was… kind.
“I need to speak with your babaylan,” Lakan said abruptly. “Inang Tala.”
“She’s gone. Three moon cycles. Until the next Halad.”
Time. He needed time.
“I’d like to stay,” he said carefully. “If your tribe allows it. I’m a scholar. I study curses, histories—immortals. Your people have knowledge no one else does.”
True enough.
Liya studied him. “You’ll have to earn your keep.”
“I can fight.”
“Not yet.” Her gaze swept him. “You can barely stand.”
As if summoned, his legs gave out when he tried to rise. He caught himself against the wall, breathing sharp with frustration.
Liya was there instantly. Hands on his arms. “Stubborn man.”
Her touch burned.
Not with fever—with something far more dangerous.
They froze. Too close. Her breath caught when she realized it.
Her eyes dipped—to his mouth—then snapped back up. She stepped away first.
“Rest,” she said. “When you’re stronger, you can help train.”
She fled.
Lakan sank back onto the mat, dragging a hand down his face.
This was a disaster.
He was supposed to retrieve his heart scale and leave.
She’s not ours, he told his dragon. She would kill us if she knew.
The dragon didn’t care.
It had already recognized its mate. There was no going back.
Two days later, Lakan could walk.
Mount Mayari clung to the mountainside—platforms and huts linked by rope bridges and carved stone. From the highest point, the sea glimmered beyond the peaks. Training grounds dominated the center.
And currently, it was filled with women trying to kill each other.
“Again!” Liya’s voice rang out. “Yumi, your footwork is sloppy. Hana, stop telegraphing your strikes.”
Lakan watched from the shade.
The Daughters trained with brutal efficiency. Younger acolytes practiced nearby, stealing glances at him and giggling.
He ignored them.
Liya moved like water—fluid, lethal, impossible to predict. She demonstrated a disarm, corrected a grip, and smiled when a sister executed the move cleanly. She adjusted her braids again and again, a nervous habit she likely didn’t notice.
Not that he was staring.
He absolutely was.
“Your stance is wrong.” The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Every woman turned.
Liya’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Lakan pushed off the wall. “That move you just showed Yumi? Against a Bakunawa, it wouldn’t work.”
Silence fell, thick and dangerous.
“And you would know this how?” Luningning demanded.
“I’m a scholar,” he said smoothly. “I’ve studied them. It’s not force—it’s timing. Dragons can sense incoming attacks through vibrations in the air. You’d need them distracted.”
“Distract them how?”
By you.
“By anything,” he said instead. “Dragons are arrogant. Proud. Use that against them.”
Liya studied him, then said, “Show us.”
For the next hour, Lakan found himself correcting myths, suggesting formations, and explaining legends behind their weapons. How a Bakunawa’s scales are layered differently from other dragons’. Why silver worked better than iron. Where the true weak points were—and weren’t.
He should just kick himself, Lakan thought darkly. Why was he even teaching them how to kill him?
Because you want to impress her, the dragon purred.
The Daughters listened, skeptical at first, then increasingly engaged, asking questions, and testing theories.
He tried not to notice how Liya’s eyes brightened when he explained something new. And when she smiled—goddess help him—he wanted to earn it again.
He tried not to feel proud when Liya immediately put his lessons into practice. When she sparred, covered in dust, sweat darkening her skin, muscles flexing beneath bronze flesh, something primal coiled in his gut. Especially when blood streaked her cheek from a careless strike—anger flared first, sharp and protective. Then pride. Satisfaction.
It made the dragon beneath his skin ache with want.
And worse—
He wanted her.
Not just by mate bond or his dragon’s instincts, either.
Lakan, the man, wanted her. Wanted her laugh, her strength, her fierce protectiveness, and hidden gentleness. Wanted to know what made her smile, what kept her awake at night, what dreams she carried in that warrior’s heart.
And it terrified him.
Because it meant risking everything. His mission. His family’s honor. His carefully constructed lies.
It meant becoming like his father—consumed by love for someone he could never truly have.
The realization hit hard.
And then came the anger.
She’d made him feel things he’d never known—a desire so keen it sliced at the heart of him, a need that bound him like chains when he’d never been bound by anything or anyone.
She’d made him want when wanting was the most dangerous thing he could do.
That evening, Liya found him looking at the sky.
“You’ve been avoiding me all afternoon,” she said, settling beside him without invitation.
“I’ve been tired.”
“Liar.”
He shot her a look. She met it calmly, unbothered.
They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of the compound winding down for the night around them.
“Thank you,” Liya said finally. “For today. The training.” She paused, a smile tugging at her lips. “Even though, according to you, all our moves are practically useless against the Bakunawa.”
Lakan snorted. “Not useless. Just… optimistic.”
“Well, good thing we have the dragon scale.” Liya shrugged. “We can just kill it with Puksa once the weapon is forged.”
Lakan’s attention sharpened. “A Bakunawa scale? Impressive.” He kept his voice casual. “I haven’t seen one. You actually have it? You were able to get one?”
“Yes,” Liya answered, chin lifting with unmistakable pride. “I retrieved it myself. From the dragon’s cave.”
My cave. My heart scale.
“Where is it?” Lakan asked, trying to sound merely curious. “I’ve never touched a dragon scale.”
“Inang Tala has it. She took it with her when she left.”
The babaylan took it. And she was gone for three full moons.
Mayari’s words echoed in his mind: Things are unfolding. The time has come.
The goddess had been right. It had started.
“Soon,” Liya continued, her gaze drifting to the horizon, “we’ll complete our mission and I can finally…”
She turned to look at him then, and something in her expression made Lakan’s breath catch. Longing. Hope. A future she was imagining.
“Be free,” she finished softly.
Free.
The word hung between them, weighted with meaning. Free from duty. Free to choose. Free to…
Lakan broke away from her gaze first, chest tight, unable to bear the hope in her eyes when he was so conflicted.
Movement caught his attention. There—in the distance, near the tree line. Fireflies. Flickering in a pattern too precise to be natural.
Ali.
“I should rest,” Lakan said, standing. “I pushed myself too hard today.”
Liya rose too, concern flickering across her face. “Of course. You did help a lot. Get some sleep.”
He nodded, not trusting his voice, and headed toward his hut.
But he didn’t go inside.
Lakan waited until the compound settled and heard Liya’s footsteps fade toward her own quarters. Then he slipped into the shadows and made his way to the tree line.
Ali stood in human form, arms crossed. “You said three nights.”
Barely visible in the shadows was Alab, a knowing smirk on his face. “I told you he wouldn’t leave. He’s obsessed with wildfire.”
“I’m not obsessed—”
“You’re teaching them how to kill dragons,” Ali interrupted. “Specifically, how to kill you. That’s not obsession, that’s insanity.”
Lakan scowled. “I’m gathering information. Building trust. It’s strategic.”
“It’s stupid,” Ali said flatly. “And it ends now. The sea dragon court is summoning you.”
“I need more time—”
“This isn’t a request, Your Highness.” Ali’s wings flickered with agitation. “Your uncle Bakos sent me with a message: If you don’t return to the underwater kingdom within three days, he will personally cross onto land to retrieve you. And you know what that means.”
Bleeding moons.
Lakan’s jaw tightened. Uncle Bakos hadn’t surfaced in centuries. For him to threaten to come to land meant—
“This is serious, Lakan,” Ali continued, his voice losing some of its edge. “Something is happening. Something big is coming. They need you. The court needs you. Your family needs you.”
Lakan dragged a hand through his hair, frustration and dread warring in his chest. He couldn’t avoid this forever. He’d known that. But three days—
His gaze drifted back toward the compound. Toward where Liya slept.
Three days.
It wasn’t enough time. Wasn’t nearly enough.
But it would have to be.
“Fine,” Lakan said quietly. “Three days. I’ll be there.”
Ali nodded. The fireflies dispersed into the night, and Alab melted back into the shadows, leaving Lakan alone in the darkness.
From her window, Liya watched.
She had meant to sleep, but rest would not come.
And there he was.
Lakan stood at the tree line, surrounded by fireflies—again. Hundreds of them, drifting and weaving, their light painting his tall form in molten gold. They moved with strange precision, gathering around him as if drawn by something ancient and undeniable.
Her pulse quickened.
Why were the fireflies drawn to him?
He had to be more than he seemed.
Was he moon-blessed, like her? Did he know magic? Was that why her anting-anting reacted so strangely around him—warming, then fading, as if confused?
The questions came fast, relentless.
But beneath them was something simpler.
Curiosity.
She wanted to know him. Wanted to understand the secrets he carried, the contradictions that shaped him—scholar and warrior, gentle and fierce, careful with his words yet bold in his actions.
She wanted him.
The realization did not startle her. It settled—quiet, undeniable—like truth finding its place.
She was falling for Lakan.
No.
She had already fallen.
And unlike him—unlike the way he held himself apart, guarded and resisting—Liya did not fight it.
Human life was too fleeting for hesitation. Too short to deny what the heart recognized when it finally spoke.
Him.
So be it.
Just one more mission, she told herself. One last immortal hunt. After the Bakunawa fell, she would be free. Free from duty. Free to choose.
Free to pursue him.
Why wait for a Courting challenge when she could fight for him herself? She was a warrior, after all. She had spent her life earning what she wanted with strength and resolve.
The thought curved her lips into a small, fierce smile.
Liya had fought her entire life for others—for her sisters, for humanity, for the moon itself.
For once, she would fight for herself.
For what she wanted.
For him.
AUTHOR’S NOTE🌙
Hello, I’m Ayin — your storyteller.
Do you believe in destiny?
Not the vague, fortune-cookie kind. I mean the real, bone-deep question: do you believe that somewhere in this vast, chaotic world, there is someone who was made for you? Someone whose strengths cover your weaknesses, whose presence makes the unbearable bearable, who can simply do life with you?
Because if you do — welcome. You are going to love this trope.
Fated mates is one of the most beloved concepts in romantasy, and honestly? It’s not hard to understand why. There’s something deeply reassuring about it. The idea that you are not wandering alone. That the universe, in all its indifference, took a moment to look at you specifically and say: there is someone for this one.
If you’ve read the ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas, you know the pull. If you’ve met King Rot (yes, King Rot— definitely one of my favorite male leads, simply unforgettable) in The Plated Prisoner series by Raven Kennedy… you know what it feels like when a fated bond is written with real weight behind it. And if you’ve been through Fourth Wing, you know the dragons had it figured out even when the humans were still arguing about it.
Fated mates runs deep in wolf series, fae books, dragon books. It endures because it taps into something we all quietly carry: the hope that we are not alone. That belonging to someone — and having someone belong to you — is not weakness. It’s the whole point.
But here’s where I land personally.
I believe in destiny and I believe in choice. And I don’t think those two things are in conflict.
Do we control what life brings us? Rarely. The crises, the catastrophes, the opportunities that arrive without warning, the people who walk in and rearrange everything — we don’t summon those. They simply happen. That part? That’s destiny.
But what we do with those circumstances — how we respond, what we reach for, what we run from — that is entirely ours.
And that is exactly how I framed Liya and Lakan.
They are fated mates. The bond is real. The heart scale doesn’t lie. But did you notice how differently they’re responding to it?
Lakan is fighting it. Running from it. His entire mission in this chapter is to retrieve his stolen heart scale so he doesn’t have to accept what it means. He is terrified — not of Liya, but of what loving her could make him. He has watched love destroy his father. He refuses to let it destroy him.
Liya acknowledges she’s falling — and instead of retreating, she decides to fight for it. Her final lines in this chapter say everything:
“For once, she would fight for herself. For what she wanted. For him.”
Same fate. Two completely different choices.
Both of them valid. Both of them very human — even when one of them is technically a dragon.
The question is: whose choice will hold? And what will it cost them?
That’s what the next chapters are for. And I promise you — the shifts are just beginning.
Your Free Character Guide + Inang Tala Deep Dive
As the world of Bakunawa’s Curse expands, knowing who’s who becomes genuinely essential — not just for enjoyment, but for survival in the Isle of Immortals.
Get your free Character Guide and keep it as your companion as you journey through the story. Meet Liya and Lakan, the Bakunawa Clan, the Daughters of the Moon, Mayari, and the immortal allies and chaos-bringers who make this world alive.
And if you want to go deeper — the free Character Deep Dive on Inang Tala is waiting for you. Link is also in the show notes. Uncover the secrets of one of the most mysterious and powerful women in this story — and the more you understand her now, the harder the story will hit when the time comes.
⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This deep dive reveals truths that unfold later in the story. Download only if you’re ready.
Both the Character Guide and Inang Tala Deep Dive are completely FREE.
Up Next — Chapter 8: The Sea Remembers
Eighteen years away, and the ocean still remembered him.
So did his family — with a crown, an ultimatum, and a bride already chosen.
Lakan had one problem: all he could think about was her.
If you’d rather not wait, Chapter 8 is already up on my Ko-fi page — that’s where advance chapters live for readers who want to stay ahead.
If you’d like to experience the story in a different way, Bakunawa’s Curse is also streaming at Ayinisms Story Podcast on Spotify, and you can watch it at the Ayinisms Story Channel on YouTube.
Till the next story. 🌙
❤️Ayin
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🤔 The Big Question: Do you believe in fated mates / destiny in love?
💯 Yes — I believe there’s someone made for everyone
🤝 Maybe — but choice still matters more
🧠 No — love is entirely what you build
🤔 I didn’t before reading this chapter…
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🌙 Thank you for reading. The moon is watching.
© Ayin Quijano. All rights reserved.
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