The wind shifted that night, icy with the tang of salt and heavy musk of damp soil. Sawerigading led Jantaka beneath the tangled roots of an ancient banyan, its crown devouring moonlight in thick, veiled shadows. They had spoken of Walakina for hours, Sawerigading's tone layered with reverence and unease, Jantaka's curiosity burning restless and bright.
"Walakina is nothing like ordinary women," Sawerigading murmured, his eyes reflecting devotion chased by dread. "She's the river that runs against its own current, the hush that can swallow noise. I saw her name once, written not on paper, but in the foam that rides Waliala's waves."
Jantaka listened, mind looping back to legends of far-off lands. He recalled a tale from the east: souls bound by an invisible string, red as sunset, impervious to time. Perhaps Walakina and Sawerigading were woven together by such a thread, fate's knot hidden beneath the surface, refusing to let go even as the world fell apart.
They ventured deeper into Waliala, jungle shadows shifting into faces and secrets. Sawerigading carried the tales of Lagaligo's legacy like armor. He spoke of the storm that almost destroyed his fleet, the watery border between the mortal and divine. His ship braved waves as tall as mountain spirits, and the gods pressed against him, relentless. But every trial blurred in memory before the undying name of Walakina.
Now, generations later, Sawerigading and Jantaka walked into a new trial, shadows lengthening with each step.
The path broke open into a cavern, its walls pulsing faint, rhythmic light. The air felt heavy with iron. Water dripped in slow, steady beats, collecting into a pool dark as void. Sawerigading stopped in his tracks.
"This place…" he said. "This is the mouth of Walakina's silence."
Jantaka approached, chest constricting, unsettled by something beneath the surface. He brushed the water, ripples raced outward before folding back, converging until faces shaped in the mirror-dark. A woman's face, clear and solemn, emerged. Her lips parted as if on the verge of speech.
Jantaka's heart pounded. Was he seeing the one lost between worlds? Sawerigading's hands trembled with hope and fear, lips moving in silent prayer.
But as quickly as the face formed, it split along invisible lines, cracks blossoming like frost on glass. The pool boiled and the cavern shook, echoing laughter that was hollow and cruel. A wild, cruel mirth filled the hollow spaces.
"She's not here," Jantaka gasped, stumbling backward.
"This gate leads nowhere," Sawerigading replied, voice fierce. "The spirits play at riddles. Waliala keeps testing me."
Suddenly, the cavern floor split wide, revealing no ground, only a vortex of swirling light and perpetual shadow. Stone and memory collapsed inward, as if reality itself was spinning into oblivion. Jantaka grabbed desperately at a root, trying to anchor himself, but his grip failed, and he tumbled downward, the echo of Walakina's name reverberating in his ears and chest.
In a final flash, he saw Sawerigading leap toward him, undeterred by the fall, refusing to leave him alone in the spiraling void.
As they plunged, the void whispered:
"One of you is bound. The other… is free."
Everything dissolved into blackness and silence. The echo lingered, hinting at mysteries yet revealed, as the world held its breath for what would come next.