In this scene, the duwende has stepped deeper into a forest of tall, reed-like plants that ripple and sway as if under water.

The air feels fluid, otherworldly.

Ahead stands a strange creature, its form both curious and cautious.

The duwende remains calm and centered, bathed in soft, magical light.

Colors and glimmers emanate from them like currents.

A visual language of power and communication.

It’s unclear whether the duwende is casting a spell, offering a blessing, or weaving a wordless dialogue, but the creature seems entranced within this moment.

'Watcher of the Threshold' captures a point of contact between two beings: one familiar, one unknown.

The scene reads like a magical negotiation rather than a confrontation.

The duwende, a benevolent guide from Filipino folklore, appears not as a trickster but as a mediator, blending serenity with potency.

The forest’s underwater quality blurs boundaries: land and sea, material and spiritual, self and other.

This ambiguity invites the viewer to ask: What does it mean to enter a space where language dissolves and presence becomes a form of communication?

By leaving the narrative open-ended, Jairus invites us into a state of wonder, witnessing a duwende not as a quaint myth but as a living emissary of unseen realms.

The result is both mystical and intimate: a glimpse of magic happening mid-breath, with no clear end in sight.