The streets were a kaleidoscope of colors, with Maria and Luz eagerly joining the fiesta. They moved from house to house, savoring the roasted lechon and sweet kalamay, their laughter mingling with the festive music. "Isn't it wonderful how everyone opens their doors today?" Maria remarked as they entered yet another home.

Days after the fiesta, Luz noticed Maria's peculiar routine. She slept during the day and ventured out only under the cover of night. "Why is she acting so strange?" Luz wondered, her mind drifting to the town's whispered legends of the Aswang.

Whispers of the Aswang grew louder when neighbors saw Maria pacing outside a pregnant woman's home. Tita Rosa, a local with a penchant for gossip, added fuel to the fire. "I've seen her wounds, just like the stories," she confided to others, her voice tinged with fear and intrigue.

Despite the mounting suspicion, Aling Nena, a wise elder, urged calmness. "Legends are not always truths," she insisted, but her words did little to quell the growing unease. The town was trapped in a web of doubt, each resident fearing the unknown lurking in the shadows.

The earth roared, and the ground trembled as a devastating earthquake struck the town. In the aftermath, the barbershop on the hill lay buried under a landslide. Among the victims were Maria and her young grandson, leaving a void of unanswered questions and silenced fears.

With Maria's passing, the stories of the Aswang ceased. The villagers gathered, reflecting on their fears. Luz spoke softly, "Perhaps we judged too quickly, letting our fears guide us." The town, though still haunted by memories, found solace in the truth that some mysteries are best left unexplored.