Epilogue

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"Have you heard of Mabaya?" Emilio Aguinaldo asks his secretary. The man just came back from the infirmary, tallying their surviving numbers. The secretary shook his head, "No. She was not in the healing wing." Aguinaldo raised an eyebrow, "She's dead then." Again, the secretary shook his head, looking unsure. "No one could find her body." The secretary brings up something on his side, a little heavy than he expected. He shows it to Aguinaldo before saying, "They found this instead."

A fan made of narra, its wood steeled by small, thin, metal rods. The tips of the fan were sharp as a small dagger, and one could even see the rust of leftover blood staining the item.

Aguinaldo takes the fan, momentarily dropping his hand with the sudden weight of it. He stares before asking the secretary again, "Tanashiri and Lady Estrella, are they here?" The secretary replies, "People have seen Tanashiri stabbed by a guardia civil, but Lady Estrella apparently shot the men dead. After that, we never saw them again."

Aguinaldo places the war fan on his table, knocking on the wood while in thought. He inhales before saying, "Mabaya, Tanashiri and Lady Estrella are considered dead. Note that Mabaya was shot in battle."

'You served well, Amelia. Now rest, wherever you may be.'

~*~

The war was over and history was written by its victors.

They never spoke of the hired gun disguised as a maid.

They never spoke of La Loba Negra.

They never spoke of Mabaya.

They never spoke of one Amelia of Malolos, Bulacan.

But she was there, in the ashes and rubble. Behind and above all figures in history books, was hers in humble manner. On one hand, the victory of her people and on the other, the loss of a mother.

Amelia truly didn't know which one weighed heavier.

Sonless Mother of the RevolutionNơi câu chuyện tồn tại. Hãy khám phá bây giờ