LOGINIt was the early morning of Saturday, and Teacher Maria felt that she missed her parents already. She missed her mother's cooked dishes and her father's serenade using his harmonica for her and her mother. Usually, if it's the weekend, they spend quality time together. They also used to go to their vegetable and fruit farm and she helped her parents harvest some tomatoes, eggplants, pechay, and fruits like bananas and coconut.
Her parents were both hardworking. Harvesting and selling their stocks at the wet market in the town of Rosario is their source of income. They were living a simple life yet they were wealthy of the love and happiness within their family.
She immediately packed all her used laundry and planned to wash those in their home. She was so excited and hadn't advised her parents of her arrival. She wanted to surprise them. It was one whole week of being separated from them and she longed for them already.
"I knew that Mom and Dad will be surprised at my arrival," she was so excited by wrapping her gifts for them. She just bought a dress for her mother and a polo shirt for her father. "She smiled while wrapping them with a touch of her love to them.
After she took her bath and wore her comfortable jeans and white T-shirt, she headed to the bus station already.
As she was waiting for a bus, there was a splash of wet mud suddenly spotted on her front white shirt and some on her face, making her eyesight got blurred as her thick eyeglasses were full of mud as wet. She was so annoyed while wiping off the mud from her eyeglasses and looking for the culprit.
All of a sudden a red Ferrari Portofino slowly stopped after her and slowly put his car window down. A handsome man wearing Barton Perriera Fear of God sunglasses was shown and told her," I'm sorry Miss, but you seemed to be inattentive while standing there," he said sarcastically.
Teacher Maria is just furious at this man's rudeness.
"Excuse me. I thought you are apologizing for what you did, but it seemed you are being so rude upon saying you were sorry. Look what have you done?" she said while pointing at her tainted shirt and her mudded face. She wanted to teach this guy a lesson so she immediately got more mud and started to brush it on his car's windshield.
The guy was pissed off and immediately went out of his car," Hey! Stop it!" he took Maria's arms roughly.
Maria felt his hard grip over her hands and she felt like crying already. She was the embarrassed one and now she will be the one to get hurt.
The handsome guy is Mr. Jericho del Fuego. When he looked at Maria, he recalled that she was the same one he bumped into last time here at the same place, at a bus station.
"Hey. it's you," his dark aura now shifted to be bright. He felt guilty then upon seeing the redness he brought unto her arms with his roughness. When he saw that she was about to cry, he felt that he wanted to comfort her.
"Look I'm sorry. I was just annoyed when I saw you tainting my car," he apologize to her and took his white handkerchief to wipe off the mud on her face.
Maria felt electrified when this handsome guy touches her face with his handkerchief. She immediately took his hankies and started to wipe off the dirt on her face all by herself." I can do it," she said.
"I'm sorry too for messing with your car, it's just that I became furious with your harsh words," she said. "I'll just wash these hankies of you then I will return it to you some other time," she said while she continued cleaning up her shirt with it.
"My apology again, by the way, I am Echo. Jericho del Fuego," he offered his hand for a handshake, but Maria refused to accept it since her hand was so dirty.
"I... I can't just accept your handshake, my hand was so dirty," she said while keeping her hands on her back. She knew that the guy in front of her is not an ordinary one, and she doesn't want to offend him again. It's quite so hard to offend someone with a rich and famous aura like him.
Echo stretched his hand and reached her hand. "I am so glad to meet you. What's your name?" he won't miss this opportunity to ask her name this time. He felt that she is something and he is quite being a challenge with her. Among the women he met, they used to introduce themselves right away to him, but the one in front of him was not like them.
She looked so innocent and naive.
On the other hand, Maria was so frightened of the way Mr. del Fuego is approaching her now. He was so rude and almost hurt her a while ago and now he is staring at her as if she was not wearing anything in front of him. Maria is quite paranoid about having this thought. She had no experience with any men being so near like him except for his father. She was not aware that her facial expression is now betraying her.
Mr. del Fuego saw how she reacted to him. She was becoming so frightened of him and he doesn't want her to feel that way.
"Look, I apologize for yelling and hurting your arms a while ago. I didn't intend to harm you. I am a good man okay," he wanted to comfort her but after seeing her reaction, he decide not to put his hands on her anymore.
Maria nodded. "Okay. My apology too," she said when she saw that the bus is coming already. "I have to go," she said.
"Where are you going?" he asked her.
"I'll go home," she said timidly.
"Where?" he asked.
"At Baybayin, Rosario," she said to make him stop asking any more questions. She was about to walk when he held her hand and said," What a coincidence? I am about to go there as well. I need to pick up some fruits I've ordered there. You can come along with me. I'll drop you in your place," he offered a ride to her.
"Are you inviting me to ride in your expensive car? I might mess your seat," she said hesitantly.
"It's okay. No need to worry. Come on. Just think about it's my way of paying off for messing with you. By the way, do you want to change your shirt?" he asked upon looking at her front shirt. He find her sexy in her simple attire even if it was dirty.
"No need. I come with you," she decided to hitch in his car as she was ashamed to ride in a bus anymore with this messy shirt she wore.
She was so ashamed while sitting beside Mr. del Fuego when he suddenly came near her face and was almost out of her breath. She almost smelled his masculine and sensual scent. She closed her eyes when she heard him say," I'll fix your seatbelt," he was smiling at her when she opened her eyes.
How shameless she is having that thought.
She just nodded her head. "Thank you."
Mr. del Fugo smiled while having this thought, "I knew how she thinks hehe. Soon ."
He started his car engine and drive already. During the journey, they were not talking to each other. Maria fell asleep during their journey.
Mr. del Fuego once in a while stared at her. When he saw that she slept already, he just fixed her head and recline her seat for her to lay and sleep comfortably. It's still almost one hour before they reach Baybayin.
One of his agents referred him to Mr. Ricafranca, an owner of Ricafranca's fruit and vegetable farm. He orders some coconut already and he will pick it up. His mother was making a special buco salad and she wanted it fresh.
Since she was asleep, he just let her sleep first and picks up the coconut fruits from Mr. Ricafranca then. He will wake her up after he loaded the coconuts in his car's compartment.
Maria was awakened by the sound of loading coconut inside the car's compartment. She removed the seatbelt upon seeing that they were already here in her parent's ancestral house. "Does he know where I live?" she asked herself and started to come out of his car.
"You're awake already? I'll drop by at your place after this," Mr. del Fuego said.
Mr. Ricafranca asked her while looking at her and Mr. del Fuego alternately, "Maria, you knew Mr. del Fuego?"
"I met him at the bus station a while ago Dad," she said and her father is now looking at her tainted shirt.
Mr. del Fuego asked," Wow. Great. So Maria is your daughter Mr. Ricafranca?" he asked Maria's father with amazement.
"Yes, she's our one and only daughter," he replied while giving Mr. del Fuegofresh Buco juice.
"Thank you, Tito," he addressed Tito already and explained how he met her. "I met her at the bus station a while ago when I accidentally splashed mud on her as I was driving, my apology Tito."
Maria then said," Thank you Mr. del Fuego. I'll go inside already," she walked inside their house already.
Mr. del Fuego waited for her to come out when he was about to leave but she never did. He already got some information from her father. "So she was a preschool teacher," he told himself.
Maria decided not to come out anymore since there will be no more things to talk about with him. She already thanked him
Mr. del Fuego left and headed to Batangas City already. He smiled while driving his car. "Maria! Maria!" he murmurs.
The Coalition of Flames had been born in triumph, but coalitions are tested not in moments of celebration, but in storms. The Phoenix Pact had spread across continents, igniting voices in Jakarta, Nairobi, Toronto, São Paulo, and Geneva. Each flame burned differently, but together they glowed with promise. Yet promise attracts pressure. And fire attracts wind.The first signs of crisis came from Manila itself. A coalition partner from Europe published a story in the Archive of Fire—an essay about migration, displacement, and systemic neglect. It was powerful, raw, and unflinching. But it is named institutions. It named governments. It is named failures. Within days, the essay was picked up by international media. Headlines blared. Politicians bristled. Critics accused the coalition of “globalizing dissent.” Supporters praised it as “truth without borders.” The firestorm began.Maria sat in the vineyard library, her journal open, her pen hovering. She had always believed in the power o
The vineyard had always been the heart of the Del Fuego legacy, but now its fire was reaching farther than Maria or Celeste had ever imagined. What began as a pact in Mindoro had become a movement across the Philippines, then a flame across continents. Yet the fire was not uniform. It burned differently in Jakarta, in Nairobi, in Toronto, in São Paulo. It danced in crosswinds, shaped by culture, history, and context. And now, it was time to gather those flames into something larger—something that could endure.Celeste was the first to propose it. She stood in the library of the estate, her notes spread across the table, her voice steady. “We need a coalition,” she said. “Not just partnerships. Not just alliances. A coalition of flames.”Maria looked up from her journal, her eyes weary but alive. “A coalition?”Celeste nodded. “A network of movements. Each with its own fire. Each with its own truth. But united under the Phoenix Pact.”Leah sat nearby, her notebook open, her pen poised.
The Phoenix Pact had crossed oceans, but fire does not burn the same way everywhere. What had begun as a movement rooted in the soil of the Philippines now flickered in languages Maria could not speak, in traditions Celeste could not fully understand, in contexts Leah had never imagined. The flame was alive, but the winds were shifting. And with new winds came crosscurrents—clashes, misunderstandings, complications.The first clash came in Jakarta. The foundation had partnered with a local school to host workshops, but the facilitators quickly discovered that the concept of “truth-telling” carried a different weight. Some students were eager to write about their families, their struggles, and their dreams. Others hesitated, fearing dishonor, fearing shame. A teacher pulled Celeste aside, his voice firm.“You must understand,” he said. “Here, family is sacred. To speak against it is dangerous.”Celeste listened, her mind racing. She had built the Phoenix Pact on transparency, on courag
The vineyard had always been the heart of the Del Fuego legacy, but now its flame was reaching farther than Maria or Celeste had ever imagined. Letters arrived daily from across the seas—requests from educators in Indonesia, activists in Kenya, poets in Brazil, librarians in Canada. They had heard of the Phoenix Pact, of the Archive of Fire, of Leah Santiago’s books. They wanted to join. They wanted to learn. They wanted to rise.Maria sat at her desk, reading a letter from a women’s collective in Nairobi. They had started a storytelling circle inspired by Leah’s Classroom Without Walls. They called it Voices of the River. They wanted to partner with the foundation to share stories across continents. Maria felt her chest tighten with awe. The fire was spreading.Celeste entered, carrying a stack of proposals. “We’ve been invited to Geneva,” she said. “A global summit on education and empowerment. They want us to present the Phoenix Pact.”Maria blinked. “Geneva?”Celeste nodded. “It’s
The vineyard was quiet again, but the silence was not the same. It was not the silence of fear, nor the silence of fracture. It was the silence of waiting—like soil before rain, like embers before flame. Maria sat beneath the fig tree, her journal open, her pen hovering. She had written so many words these past months—words of defense, words of apology, words of resilience. But now, she wanted to write something else. Something new.Celeste joined her, carrying a folder thick with proposals. She set it down gently, as if it were fragile. “We need to rebuild,” she said. “Not just patch the cracks. Not just survive. We need to rise.”Maria looked at her. “Rise from what?”Celeste’s eyes were steady. “From fire. From fracture. From everything we’ve lost.”Maria closed her journal. “Then we need a pact.”Celeste tilted her head. “A pact?”Maria nodded. “Something that binds us. Something that reminds us why we began.”They called it The Phoenix Pact.It was not a program, nor a campaign.
The firestorm had not passed. It had only shifted, burning in new directions, consuming not just the public’s attention but the foundation’s unity. The Archive of Fire had become a symbol of courage, but also of controversy. And symbols, Maria realized, were fragile things. They could inspire. They could divide. They could be broken.The first fracture appeared in the Circle of Flame itself. The council had been created to review submissions, to balance truth with safety, but now its members were at odds. Some argued that the archive should publish everything, unredacted, unfiltered. Others insisted on stricter protocols, fearing lawsuits, retaliation, and harm to contributors. Meetings grew tense. Voices rose. Trust thinned.Maria sat at the head of the table, listening as two council members clashed.“We cannot censor survivors,” one said. “Their voices are sacred.”“We cannot endanger them,” another countered. “Their lives are sacred.”Maria closed her eyes. Both were right. Both w







