JOVEL ALVAREZ TAJANLANGIT
I never thought the name Jovel Alvarez Tajanlangit would mean anything beyond a whispered joke in the hallways—a mouthful, strange, unforgettable. But names carry weight, and mine is heavy with secrets. My father vanished when I was seven, leaving behind only a journal filled with coded entries and a warning: *Trust no one with the truth.* Now, at seventeen, I’ve cracked the first code. It points to a hidden room beneath our old house, sealed shut, covered in symbols I don’t understand. The night I open it, everything changes. A woman appears—burned, bleeding, calling me by a different name. She says I died three years ago. That I’m not Jovel anymore. That I’m something else. Something they’ve been hunting. Every choice since has been a lie or a trap. Do I run and vanish into the shadows like my father? Do I confront the people who erased my memories and demand the truth, even if it kills me? Or do I embrace whatever I became after death and become the thing they fear? The door is open. The past is alive. And the real Jovel might not want to be found.
