The Philippine jungle was humid and loud. In a clearing, the Manananggal prepared to hunt. She anointed her body with oil and began the ritual. Waist-Sever. with a wet tear, her upper torso separated from her hips. Sprouting bat-like wings, she took flight, leaving her legs hidden in the bushes.
She drifted silently over the canopy, her long, tubular tongue—the Proboscis Heart-Siphon—coiled and ready. She spotted a ruin, an old stone temple reclaimed by vines. A lone woman sat there, head bowed.
"Easy prey," the vampire thought.
The Hardest Landing
The Manananggal descended, silent as smoke. She hovered ten feet above the woman, extending her proboscis to pierce the victim's back.
The woman sensed the movement. She didn't scream. She turned. Her hair hissed.
Medusa opened her eyes. Petrifying Gaze.
The beam of cursed starlight hit the Manananggal mid-air. The vampire saw the eyes, and in that split second, biology ended and geology began. The grey slate spread instantly from her eyes to her wings. Her leathery skin hardened to granite. Her proboscis became a brittle limestone stalactite.
Gravity, suddenly realizing it was holding up a rock and not a bird, took over. The stone torso plummeted, shattering into a hundred pieces on the temple floor. Medusa sighed, kicking a piece of rubble away. "Another gargoyle," she muttered.