Determined to end it, Samuel returned to the old village alone.
The house still stood - rotting, overgrown, and silent. The banana trees behind it were twisted, like frozen limbs reaching for the sky. And the old balete tree… it had grown massive, its roots breaking through the soil like veins.
Night fell fast.
Samuel lit a candle, placed the old mirror from his childhood at his feet, and began chanting a protection prayer from his great-grandfather's diary.
The air grew cold.
Then came the sound.
"Tik… tik… tik…"
She descended from the trees - taller than before, her wings like torn leather, her eyes glowing with hunger and rage.
"You should have been mine," she hissed, voice like dry leaves in the wind. "You were promised."
Samuel stood firm, holding the mirror toward her. Her reflection twisted in agony, her form warping, revealing a shriveled woman with sharp fangs and hollow eyes.
The battle was not physical - it was spiritual. The Tiktik tried to reach into his soul, to awaken the mark she left in him. But Samuel's blood was not just cursed - it was protected.
With a final cry, he shattered the mirror at her feet. The reflection broke, and so did her hold on him.
She let out one final scream before disintegrating into ash, carried away by the wind.