Twelve passengers are seated in a Batangas bound jeepney. Everyone is minding their own business. Except for the driver, who kept looking at his rear mirror. He’s murmuring something. The drive was a smooth one. Minimal traffic, cool November air splashing in their faces, and the landscape is a sight for a soared-eye. Still, the driver is uneasy. Kept murmuring something. Almost in a trance like pattern. One passenger noticed this and told it to her friend. “Look at the driver; he kept looking at all of us! Isn’t it creepy? Look, he’s smiling! I think he’s saying something?” “Don’t mind him”, her friend replied. Half on their destination, the blue sky turned gray. Dark clouds started to form and accumulated around the jeepney. The driver immediately made a full stop. This stirred up a big commotion inside the vehicle. The driver, still smiling and murmuring gibberish, went out and positioned himself in front of the jeepney. He raised both of his hands towards the dark clouds, and shouted “This is my offering! Take this bounty which I harvested from my fields! I am Irkvan, Guardian of the Grave, Warrior of Might! Accept my offering!” One by one, the passengers turned into dry pulp. All was left were their ashes.