Disclaimer: Of course, the Midnighters series and all its elements were created by the genius Scott Westerfeld, not lowly me.

Note: The story is set in a province in the Philippines, where superstition still exists. This occurs after the third book, of course.

Darkling

Shaded and dim, the store was just how Yumi liked it. Well, that is if all to be discussed was the level of light. Her other senses were not as pleased. She could have done without the smell of peanut butter, dust, coins, and sweat mixed into that one distinct scent of Valencia Mini Mart. Something more substantial than a dying electric fan would be a comfort in the humid Philippine afternoon. She would have complained about her chair, too, except she made it herself from extra pieces of wood left over by her father when their house was being built. The thing rocked back and forth from its unevenly sawed legs. On a normal day, she would entertain herself with it, slowly shifting her weight back and forth in a futile attempt to balance herself on two legs. However, seven days ago, her world ceased to be normal...

Yumi began to lock down the store as soon as the clock marked 6:00 PM. The profits were counted in a mere seconds, an act which a week ago would have been impossible, but now so easily done. She locked down the front of the store, then the door connecting outside. Another door, in the corner of the room, was her exit out the room and the entrance into her kitchen.

The opening of the door brought an unexpected shower of light. Yumi squinted and turned her head away. She was still not used to the change. She felt blindly for a hat from a nearby chair and put it on her head to block the sting of the light. She still needed to squint at times, but the hat made indoor light tolerable.

A warm, familiar voice interrupted her from her discomfort. "How was the day?"

The teenage girl replied softly, "Good, Ma. One-hundred and fifty-two pesos."

The middle-aged lady smiled in reply though some sadness was hidden in her gaze. Her lips parted, as if to say something, but she stayed silent only returning her gaze to her cooking.

"Ma, I'll be in my room. Just call me when dinner's ready."

Yumi left the kitchen; her mother's concerned eyes trailing behind her daughter until the girl turned the corner to where the bedrooms were placed. The first door was to her parents' room, and she put the purse there, in the same table she did everyday. She left the room reluctantly, wishing for the first time in her life that she was the little girl who used to sleep in her parents' bed.

The darkness of her room brought a quick relief. She threw her hat upon the bed before crashing onto it, to the mattress's squeaky complaint, and stared at the empty ceiling. Her mind was exhausted. Last week, she would have been chatting with her friends, but they had all but left her now. It was her fault, really. When she woke up last Friday, her mood met the change in the worst way possible. She complained of her photophobia constantly, but her teacher wouldn't have it. So, she moved on, covering her eyes with one hand and writing with another. Her classmates looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Yumi had never complained before, certainly not about the sun.

Then, math came with its dreaded quiz. Yet, in spite the fact that young Filipina absolutely hated math, was absolutely horrid in math, and was absolutely sure the quiz would break her brain...it didn't. In fact, the quiz was ridiculously easy. As her luck would have it, the blessing managed to turn immediately to a curse. She aced the quiz but was immediately confronted by the teacher who simply wouldn't believe she could have done as well as she did. Yumi quickly denied the accusation that she cheated—cheating was for cowards. Then, after that, was the principal's office. Then, a parent meeting. By that time, her whole class knew, and, confused by the whole situation and completely frustrated, she avoided everyone and met every initiation of a conversation with a harsh response.

She grumbled and closed her eyes. She pushed the memory away, grabbing a pillow and burying her head into its cool, soft surface. She would not cry. No, tears would not explain anything to her. She lifted her head to breathe some needed air before gently placing her head back in the pillow. Her eyes closed again, as she searched her memories for what she had done before all these bizarre things happened. Did she point or step on a fairy mound? Did she spit on the ground without apologizing to the spirits? Did she offend a witch? Questions poured in, but no answers came. Her only visitors were confusion, exhaustion, and eventually, sleep.

. . .

She grumbled and opened her eyes. She sat up suddenly, having lost all sense of time and place in her sleep. Her gaze searched the room for answers, and it was when her gaze landed on her clock, declaring exactly midnight, that details began to pour in, the day, the week, every trouble and worry coming back as fast as they were forgotten.

She shook her head and grabbed the hat, which by then had fallen on the floor. She was about to leave the room when she took note of a foreign object in her room, a plate of food with rice and kitchen, with utensils placed neatly on a napkin beside the now cold dinner. She approached the plate of food, first with a smile, then with an expression which morphed into confusion. The rice was blue. So were the dishes, and the fork and spoon.

Her head shot up, and her eyes looked immediately around. Everything was so blue: her curtains, her bed, the trees outside all contained that singular hue, creating a most eerie atmosphere. Looking outside, something even more disturbing caught her attention—the fact that nothing moved. Night breezes should have brought soft sways to the branches, the roosters' breasts should have been gently moving in the peace of their sleep. Yet, it was as if time had frozen everything but her.

Yumi ran out the room to her parent's room, first knocking, then opening the door in a rush of fear. Her arms reached to shake her mother's shoulders, but before she had placed them there, the sight of their faces sent her stumbling back. The cold tinge of blue had also covered their tanned faces, painting a look of death on her mother and father. She shook away the images of corpses in their coffins and gathered up her courage, shaking her mother's shoulders gently. She would not wake. She tried again and again, until her eyes threatened to spill tears. She stopped before they could and ran from the room, leaving the door wide open as she left.

She did not check the rest of the house, but unbolted the doors and rushed out to the nearby woods. It had to be forest spirits. They were playing tricks on her. Well, she would not let them. She had too horrible a weak to play along with the methods of appeasement preferred by the townspeople. She would demand they return everything as it was.

"Where are you?" she shouted. "Come out! I've had enough! What did I do? You never told me. Just meddled with my life and even my parents. Come out!"

Only silence answered.

"Come out!"

More silence.

"Have mercy, come out!"

Yet, the only things which came out were her tears, stinging her eyes and blurring her vision. She wiped them away quickly, repeating calls to deaf creatures of the forest. If there really were spirits there, they had been frozen, just like the rest of her world.

Then...something broke the silence. Something above ground. Wings.

Yumi looked up, in relief of another living being and in fear of what it was. The latter emotion served her more correctly, as what came into view was not a bird, not a bat (though it had wings like one), but an aswang. A monster. A darkling.

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