Tala Philippine Mythology

Selena Collins leads an unremarkable life or so she believes. As an overworked and underpaid secretary at Vermillion Cyberspace, she’s long accepted the monotony of her days and the brooding presence of her enigmatic boss, Theo van Gogh. But everything changes the moment she collapses from exhaustion and hits her head on his desk. Upon waking up in the hospital, she begins seeing things that shouldn’t exist... ghosts, demons, angels, and creatures that seem far too aware of her presence. Then comes the impossible. Theo visits her with a revelation that completely made her brain reboot. Theo isn’t just her boss now. He’s her familiar. And Selena—confused, concussed, and utterly unprepared—is the next chosen successor of a forgotten land god. Theo bows 90 degrees, coldly defiant. "I do not acknowledge you as my master. So if you die in the process of completing your missions, it would bring me joy." Now thrust into a world where mythology bleeds into modernity and ancient contracts awaken from dormancy, Selena must uncover why she was chosen and survive long enough to earn her own name in a realm that remembers everything.

In the coastal quiet of Baler, a studio is born—not of architecture, but of intention.* Founded by Yam, a poet whose words cradle pain gently, and Franc, an artist who paints tenderness into walls, the studio becomes a refuge for those learning to stay—with grief, love, longing, and themselves. As visitors arrive, they leave behind more than footprints: a sigh recorded in bamboo, a poem tucked into the “Found Letters” shelf, a mural painted in crooked lines. Through zines, tea, silence, and sketchbooks, the studio teaches softness as revolution. Ren creates the *Window of Soft Returns*, an installation of anonymous voice recordings—each whisper forming a community of echoes. Drew builds the *Staircase With No Wrong Turns*, inviting people to walk through emotions without shame. Franc offers brushstrokes as brave work, and Yam curates writing circles that map healing in half sentences. Together, they host festivals that feel like hugs, and they begin traveling their archive, letting softness cross oceans. Even those who once left—like Miguel—return, discovering that some doors never truly close. Others, like Tala, capture the studio’s sound and turn it into a podcast of breath and becoming. Over seventy chapters, the studio transforms into something larger than itself: a mural of memory, a sanctuary for second chances, a place where return is sacred and voice is proof of survival. In the final bloom, the studio stands not as a monument—but as a reminder: > *“Staying isn’t easy. > But chosen together, > it becomes home.”*