The Jakarta sky was painted in hues of orange and gray as Satya Dirgantara stared at his reflection in the window of his room. He was seventeen, yet his reflection looked older—dimmed, weary. Beyond that ordinary pane of glass, the city moved fast, alive and bright, but Satya felt like a shadow—unseen, insignificant, and estranged.
His fascination with Indonesian mythology, especially the ancient tales steeped in magic and spirit, was his only escape. That night, he held a small replica carving of the Bima Glass Gate, an artifact he had touched at the museum a week earlier. A mythical mirror said to be "a doorway between two worlds"—just a legend, he thought.
"I just want something real," he whispered to himself, frustration and loneliness peaking in his chest. "Something more than just a shadow."
Suddenly, the small carving radiated a cold, deep violet light. The shadows in his room no longer sat still; they pulsed, moved, as if drawn by the breath of some unseen giant. Fear rooted Satya to the ground, yet the isolation and emptiness that had consumed him all these years became fuel. A power he never knew existed—born from complete emptiness—resonated perfectly with the Bima Gate.
For a brief moment, he saw the world shatter: the walls of his room melted into darkness, and the city's noise was replaced by ancient howls that pierced his soul. His body was pulled, torn apart, then filled again with a foreign, icy breath.
Satya crashed onto hard soil. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of moss, wet earth, and sulfur. The balance between life and death felt twisted here.
Crawling to his knees, Satya looked at his hands. Instead of moonlight, his palms glowed with a dark violet hue—and his shadow, no longer flat on the ground, now stood beside him, solid and sinister.
"Nusantara," he murmured, the word of legend forming on his lips.
In the distance, a giant tree crashed down with a thunderous roar, followed by a hideous laughter that made the earth tremble. The laughter was deep, coarse, and hungry—
a sound that could belong to only one being:
Buto Ijo.