Hulio stood at the edge of the stone altar, staring into a darkness that wasn't truly dark. Underground, light didn't come from the sky but from glowing stones, as if they held the memory of forgotten flames.
Since Diah and Rendra arrived, something inside him had changed. Before that, he was merely a shadow of himself. A restless soul, trapped between life and death. But the voices he recognized—real, tangible people he could see and touch—had slowly revived his mind. He felt… alive.
Diah moved through the cave with quiet determination. Without her advanced equipment, everything had to be done manually—paper, pencils, and instinct. But that wasn't what disturbed her. It was the cave itself. The living layers of rock, the unknown carvings, and the strange geomagnetic field that flowed like bloodstreams—it left her awestruck in a way words couldn't capture.
Meanwhile, Rendra could only grumble at Hulio's physical transformation. His body had become solid, muscles firm, and his skin shimmered faintly like living metal. Hulio's eyes had changed too—they looked like they could see through the dark.
Out of curiosity (and a hint of jealousy), Rendra tasted the cave's food: water dripping from purple stalactites, glowing mushrooms, and a fruit resembling a black pomegranate. The taste was odd, bitter, and made his tongue tingle… but he ate it anyway.
A few hours later, Rendra's body suddenly lifted into the air—two meters backward, untouched. He fell like a leaf caught in the wind, startled, confused, then bitterly laughing.
Diah helped him up, half-laughing, half-worried. "You're changing, Ndra."
"I'm never eating that mushroom again," he groaned.
But the effects weren't just physical. Rendra began to hear sounds. Vibrations. Rhythms that pulsed directly from the stone.
And when everything fell silent, Hulio spoke softly, "We only have three days here."
"Three days?" Diah spun around. "Who told you that?"
"I heard it… a whisper. A dream. A warning, maybe."
"Three days by whose time? There's no sun here."
Hulio looked at his cracked watch. Their phones were broken, and they had no way to measure time. But he could feel it—like a heartbeat… speeding up.
The air grew thicker as they went deeper. Stone walls revealed symbols: spirals, suns, claws, and—most prominently—a vertical eye flanked by waves.
Diah touched one large symbol. "This isn't Sasak script, not Old Javanese. It's not from any known linguistic family."
Rendra stared in silence. "This…" he whispered. "I've seen it at my grandmother's house in Bima. She used to say it was the 'third eye.' The guardian's eye."
"Dewi Anjani?" Diah held her breath.
Rendra nodded slowly.
A passage behind the wall opened into a great stone hall. Tall pillars reached up, some crumbled. In the center stood a circular altar marked with the third eye symbol, and at its heart—an imprint of a hand glowing faintly.
The vibration returned, crawling from their feet to their spines.
Time lost meaning. No morning. No night. Only the earth's pulse and the slow shift of blue light.
Hulio sat cross-legged on the altar. His breath was calm. He was speaking… not with words, but through his awareness.
Suddenly, mist rose. Not from air—but from stone. The altar cracked open.
A red glow seeped from the fissure, carrying the scent of burnt wood, dried flowers, and aged metal. A heavy voice echoed:
"Child of the upper world… you have knocked on a door sealed for thousands of years."
Diah froze. Rendra stepped back. From the mist emerged an old man—draped in a tattered black robe stitched with blood-red thread. His hair was tied high. On his back, a keris carved with fire and earth spirals.
His face was hard, like stone. But his eyes… glowed with ember-gray. A dying flame—not dead yet.
Hulio bowed, hands pressed to his chest, then knelt.
"Master," he whispered. "The one who woke me from the void."
"I am Empu Raksa Jagat," the figure replied. "Guardian of heritage, sculptor of memory, last voice of a knowledge humanity abandoned."
Diah trembled. "You… met him?"
Hulio nodded. "In whispers. In dreams. When I was dying, it was he who restored my breath."
Empu turned to Diah and Rendra.
"Two from a world that no longer believes. One seeks answers with tools. One arrived when logic failed."
"You were not summoned. Yet you came. So listen."
He raised his hand. The third-eye symbol lit up all around them.
"The first eye sees the light.
The second—sees the shadow.
But the third eye… sees what does not wish to be seen."
"And now… that eye is open."
The voice seeped into their minds—without passing through ears.
"You have three days. But not by the sun's time. Here, time is counted by vibration. If you do not leave when it ends… your bodies will remain. Only your spirits will return above."
Diah tried to ask something, but her mouth was sealed. Rendra dropped to his knees. Hulio remained calm.
"What must we do?" Hulio asked.
Empu approached. He touched Hulio's chest with one finger. A spiral symbol glowed from his skin.
"Train your body. Empty your mind. Listen to water and stone. If you wish to return… become lighter than your own shadow."
The mist swallowed Empu's figure. But his words remained—in the air, the stones, their chests.
Blue light pulsed through the cave ceiling like veins. Diah woke with a stiff back but fresh lungs. As if the cave itself was a living being… testing them.
"I dreamed I was a stone that could hear," Rendra groaned as he woke up.
Hulio gave a thin smile. "That wasn't a dream, Ndra. That was the beginning."
They gathered around the altar. The third eye symbol still glowed faintly.
Hulio started moving. His body curved, hands flowing like mist. The motion wasn't martial arts, nor yoga. But it held a rhythm—ancient and deep. Diah observed, then tried to follow. Her body was stiff, but somehow… it remembered.
"This movement has no name," Hulio said. "Only a principle: become the earth, flow like water, be as light as intent."
Rendra watched while munching fruit. "You're dancing with the air. I'll just guard the perimeter in case a mist-creature wants a duel."
But as he bit into his third fruit, his body jolted. He jumped without knowing, landed perfectly.
"What the—?!"
"Your body's learning," Diah said.
"Or remembering," Hulio whispered.
Suddenly, a sound echoed from the far end of the cave: thousands of tiny wings flapping. Mist thickened. A massive, faceless figure emerged behind a pillar.
But… it didn't attack.
It mimicked Hulio's movements. Curving hands. Controlled breath. Gentle steps.
"It's… training with us?" Diah asked.
No voice answered. But their hearts received the message:
"We are watching. Not enemies. Guardians of the trial."
The third day brought a different energy. The cave walls shifted from blue to violet. As if something unspeakable wanted to speak.
Diah felt a restlessness that wasn't hers. She touched the altar stone.
"The ground is shifting… something is approaching."
Rendra observed. "Maybe it's a sign our time is running out."
Hulio closed his eyes. Reaching for a whisper. But none came. Silence.
"The signal… is gone," he murmured. "Like someone turned their face away from us."
"Maybe we misstepped. Or we're too late. Or… not ready yet."
The eastern wall trembled. Not an earthquake—but a heartbeat.
Diah collapsed. Rendra leaned on a pillar. Hulio stood firm, sweat lining his temples.
"Someone is trying to enter," he said. "Not a cave-being. From above."
"Mateo?" Diah asked.
Hulio nodded. "He sent more men. But this cave won't let them in… without consequence."
Rendra rose. "If they force their way in, the cave could… collapse."
"Or retaliate," Hulio whispered.
From the dark corridor came a scream—long, choking, tormented.
"We have to leave now!" Diah shouted.
But the altar did not glow. The pillars didn't move. The tunnel remained shut.
"We are locked in," Hulio said. "Not yet cleansed… or not yet finished."
The walls closed in. Mist fell heavier.
And the Empu…
Remained silent.
Three days.
Three eyes.
Three souls.
And time… no longer belongs to humans.