He shows us a breathtaking sight: a balete tree at the center of the next cavern we enter, even more immense than the one they burnt. There is no face carved into its center this time, but the massiveness of the tree dwarfs everyone within its vicinity. The ceiling it dangles from is hundreds of feet higher than the others, and a constellation of branches dips down toward us, as thick as a hedge maze.

And seeds. This is the only balete on the island that has foliage on it; I can see the thick green above us, large and wide like banana leaves. Dense nestles of rope-like plants cling to the ceiling and wrap themselves around the healthier-looking branches like strange ivy, proof something is capable of flowering and thriving in this place.

Two of Hemslock’s men are setting up explosives around this giant balete.

“Pretty, right?” Hemslock gestures at the massive tree. “We’re going to need a hell of a lot of flamethrowers to take this down. As it is, knives and bullets bounce off it like they’re nothing, but I’ve still got a lot of dynamite on hand.”

“You need to leave immediately,” I say. “If you value your life, you will abandon this attempt to kill the Diwata and go. A helicopter has arrived, and they’re taking crew members off the island. By the time you return, there’ll be more rescue teams waiting.”

Hemslock looks unconvinced. His bodyguards glance at each other, more nervous than before.

“Kid has a point,” one of them says. “Would be easier if we could call for backup, return to the island when we’ve got more support. We’re struggling, what with Kyle and Bren gone and—”

Hemslock rounds on the man, furious. “That ain’t an option.”

“But—”

“I said that ain’t a fucking option! As soon as word gets out about this place, every asshole is going to come to take whatever treasures they can find, and then we’re fucked. Don’t you get it?”

Hemslock points at Leo. “He’s what it wants. Galant was the sixth to lure. Rosmussen is the seventh to consume. He’ll be the eighth to wake. Grief made a shell of you, Gries. You ain’t been a father to your son, and you’ve been shit at work. Thought this show was your chance to pull yourself together, help you find closure with your dead wife. But that’s not working, is it? At this point, it’s an act of kindness to put you out of your misery so you can be with her.” Hemslock’s eyes gleam in the darkness. “You still don’t get it, Gries. About Cortes.”

“Cortes?” Leo asks hoarsely.

“He was set up. Aunt Elle sent me copies of the last few pages of Cortes’s journal. I can recite his last entry word for word: I have learned all from Lapulapu’s men, enticed some with strings of bead and the salvation of the one true God, instead of this demon lurking within the cave. The god of the Godseye is pledged to honor any who sacrifices to him. That was how Cilapulapu gained his powers. No longer. Tomorrow I strike, offer him up as a sacrificial lamb myself. I will take his heart and plunge it into one of the trees that grow upside down within the Godseye, and then I will claim this land for my own, triumph with what has long been denied to me by Magellan. And then everyone shall bow to me. I will be a god.”