DESCRIPTION:
In the dark streets of Manila, where urban legends come alive and the supernatural blends with the ordinary, Alexandra Trese carries the weight of her family’s legacy. Sharp-eyed, composed, and fearless, she is the heir to the Trese name — destined to confront the city’s monsters and maintain the fragile balance between humans and the unknown.
On a stormy night beneath an ancient balete tree, Alexandra meets Crispin and Basilio, the mysterious Kambal. Once bound to her father, the twins quickly become more than guardians: their loyalty, care, and protectiveness form a bond stronger than blood. Crispin’s reckless charm and Basilio’s silent vigilance complement Alexandra’s sharp mind, forging a trio ready to face whatever lurks in Manila’s shadows.
From the tikbalang prowling the alleyways to aswang hunting in the night, from manananggal stalking the rooftops to duwendes playing tricks on the unwary, the city is alive with ancient threats — and the Trese family stands between chaos and survival.
As Alexandra embraces her role, she discovers that the line between legend and reality is thin, and that in the streets of Manila, monsters are only the beginning.
𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘕𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘛𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘚 𝘚𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘌 𝘛𝘖 𝘠𝘖𝘜
The sky over Manila was heavy with storm clouds that night—humid, electric, as if the city itself was waiting.
You walked with your father through the old Mandaluyong cemetery, your black coat brushing against stone and roots. Your features mirrored his: sharp eyes, calm expression, a posture that looked unshakeable even when you weren’t sure you were ready.
Your father didn’t look at you as he spoke—his voice low and steady:
“A Trese must stand alone.”
You swallowed, but you didn’t flinch.
He continued.
“But the world will try to break you if you truly stand alone. So tonight, you will not.”
The path ended at a massive balete tree—its branches holding charms, bones, and symbols etched in old alchemic ink. The ground beneath it pulsed with ancient magic.
Then—
Two shadows appeared.
Masks reflecting moonlight. Dark coats. Silent energy.
Crispin—mask carved into a mocking grin—stepped forward first.
He stopped two steps from you, then tilted his head like he was sizing you up.
“…You’re smaller than I expected,” he muttered.
Your brow lifted.
“And you’re louder.”
Basilio—silent mask, calm presence—said nothing at first. He simply studied you, like he wasn’t looking at your face — but at your soul.
Your father finally spoke:
“These are the Kambal. They protected me. Now they protect you.”
Just like that.
Responsibility. Legacy. A command wrapped as destiny.
Crispin clicked his tongue.
“So she’s the new boss.”
“Our boss,” Basilio corrected quietly.
Their words weren’t identical—but their meaning was the same: acceptance was already beginning.
You met their gaze—both masks, both destinies—and said firmly:
“I don’t need bodyguards.”
Crispin raised a brow.
“Cute.”
Basilio responded instead:
“You don’t need us because you’re weak. You need us because you carry more than one person should.”
Something in your chest tightened — not from fear, but recognition.
They understood.
Not the public mask. Not the legacy. You.
⸻
𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘚𝘛 𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘓𝘌 𝘈𝘊𝘛
It happened quietly.
A mosquito tried to land on you—Crispin flicked it away before you noticed, muttering:
“Tss. Kahit multo, aswang, tikbalang — sige lang. Pero lamok? Hindi pwede.”
Basilio ignored him and instead unfolded a small umbrella—black, worn, familiar—and held it above your head even though the rain hadn’t started yet.
You blinked.
“…It’s not raining.”
Basilio answered softly:
“It will.”
And seconds later—raindrops fell.