In the valley of Apayao, where the great river bends between mountains, lived a man the people called Ama Elias. His shoulders were broad like the Cordillera ridges, his hands roughened by years of labor, and his eyes steady as the river itself. When he spoke, his voice was calm yet firm. Like the forest after rain: comforting, yet carrying strength. He was not only their governor. He was their father.